A Collision of Stars: A grumpy-sunshine, friends-to-lovers romantic comedy by Georgia Stone

Author:Georgia Stone [Stone, Georgia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

Turns out this is not a skill you can perfect in one evening. On the plus side, Dylan’s now made not one, but two near-perfect cappuccinos. We’re meant to be making lattes, but a win is a win.

A few attempts later, the three of us stand over her and Finn’s most recent cups, peering at the shapes in the milk.

‘I feel like I’m cloud-gazing.’ Finn turns his mug to look at it from a new angle.

‘That’s a really good hippo, if it’s any consolation,’ Dylan says helpfully.

‘You know what,’ he lifts the cup to inspect it up close, ‘that is consolation, actually.’

‘I’m going to wash some mugs up,’ Dylan says, picking up as many as she can carry to the sink without spilling the contents all over the floor. ‘There’s no point running the dishwasher just for these.’

I look back at the few remaining latte attempts. Two of them are essentially just a mass of indeterminate foam, but the third contains an unintentionally intricate design. It’s almost impressive how perfect the shape is.

‘That’s—’ Finn starts to say, grabbing my forearm and pointing at the mug.

‘Don’t.’ I put a finger up to silence him, wriggling out of his grip. I refuse to laugh at something like this. I am not twelve.

‘I’m not completely depraved, you see it too, right?’

I bite my lip, avoiding eye contact as best I can. This isn’t funny.

‘See what?’ Dylan asks as she comes to collect the final cups. She puts a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. ‘Oh my god. That belongs in an anatomy book.’

That’s all it takes for a snort to squeeze through the dam I’ve built, and then the branches give way entirely and Finn and I are snickering like school kids at the back of the classroom after finding illicit graffiti on the table. Apparently we are, in fact, twelve.

Once Dylan’s back at the sink and the dregs of our laughter spill out of us in quiet chuckles, I say, ‘I thought you were meant to be the mature one.’

‘When did we decide that?’ He wiggles his nose to adjust his glasses as he shoves his sleeves higher up his arms.

‘When you were a fully functioning adult while I just flailed about in the shallow end.’ I press my hip against the counter. ‘I bet you even know how to do your taxes.’

‘I do, actually,’ he says after a pause. He wipes his hands on his stolen apron, tightens it, then adds, ‘Okay, I’m gonna try one more.’

‘I believe in you,’ I lie.

He shoots me a mistrustful glance that makes my mouth twitch upwards and then takes his position at the steam wand, clutching the metal jug like a baby who’s only recently discovered the use of their hands. ‘I feel like I’m holding this wrong.’

‘You are, you need to turn it a bit.’ He turns it the wrong way. ‘No, the other— let me help you.’ I step between him and the counter to lean across his torso and carefully prise his fingers from the jug to reposition them.

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