We had a fling like a thousand years ago that ended really badly & now you're trying to make casual conversation w/ me in the line at Starbucks, please stop, okay one date. Coffee doesn't count. Also I'm still not over it. Klaro-prompt please :))))
+ “Only if you're taking prompts! "I’ve been calling you by your online alias for so long that when you tell me your real name it doesn’t seem like it fits" (Human AU)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This one-shot takes place at a coffeehouse/cafe, not a Starbucks, and kind of took on a mind of its own? haha. I hope you like it. Happy Klaroline AU Week!
Also here: (FF.net)
xx Ashlee Bree
A Bloody Good Explanation
9 A.M. Saturday morning placed Caroline within close proximity of her favorite life-stimulant—coffee. After spending last night policing Rebekah and Katherine’s tequila-fueled welcome back swing dancing (which had resulted in broken heels, belligerent bickering, a blast from the past, and a few handsy assholes who they’d left ego-bruised and bloody on the clubroom floor), the scent of brewing hazelnut and caramel never smelled so intoxicating. Or essential.
Today, only an enormous french vanilla latte and a double shot of espresso would do the trick. Today, only mega-caffeine would obliterate the what-a-night yawn clouding her sunshiny smile.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.
Caroline, who rapped her fingers mindlessly while she waited for her order, turned to blanch at the manager behind the counter.
“Excuse me? I think you have me confused with—”
“—You said your name’s Caroline, right?” he interrupted. “Caroline Forbes?”
Handsome and charismatic, the man cocked his head to the side and offered her a friendly smile.
“Yeah, that’s me…” she appraised him suspiciously, “but how did you—”
“—Here you go,” he said as he slid a to-go bag into her hand. “No charge for the bewitching young lady. One of our new favorite faces,” he winked.
Sighing heavily, Caroline rolled her eyes. She was in no mood for this.
“That’s charming,” she said tartly, “really smooth. Only here’s the problem—” She paused, flicking her eyes to his name tag. “—Marcel, is it?”
He nodded.
“Here’s the thing Marcel—” she pushed forward onto her hands and narrowed her eyes at him “—I ordered coffee, not carbs,” she snapped.
“Now,” she clucked, flicking the bag back at him with an agitated smile,“how about you take back these unsolicited apple fritters and charge me for the beverages I actually wanted, hm? You know, before I misconstrue your flirting for sexual harassment,” she threatened sassily.
“Perky and poised,” he drawled, dropping onto his elbows, “but not afraid to put a man in his place, huh? A real sunshine pistol, you are, Caroline,” Marcel snickered. “We dig that around here.”
“I’m sure,” she sneered.
“That being said—” He nudged the bag toward her again. Tapped at a slip of paper attached to the top with his index finger. “—this is your order today. Take it or leave it, princess,” he smirked, “but I hope you come back to scold me again. And soon.”
Caroline scoffed under her breath. To be ogled by the likes of him? Fat chance, buddy!
“By the way,” he added, sticking a pen behind his ear, “I’m not hitting on you.” He moved away, glancing back at her over his shoulder, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes. “I’m just doing my job and passing along information. Boss’s orders,” he shrugged.
“Don’t be too hard on me, eh?” he added. “I have a feeling about you—I think we’ll be good pals one day.”
Caroline’s jaw hung open. The absolute nerve of this guy!
“Just be happy I have no coffee to throw back in your face right now, amigo,” she huffed.
One-handing the to-go bag, she stormed away.
Following orders, her foot! What kind of business establishment was this, anyway? Pastry-pushing, anti-caffeine tyranny was so not the way to entice coffee junkies such as herself to return. Seriously. And to think she’d been ecstatic at the prospect of a Bloody Good Café opening up mere steps from her college her apartment! In retrospect, the reality royally sucked!
Still fuming, Caroline meandered to the nearest trash dispenser, arm raised and ready to discard the unsanctioned food when her eyes perceived scribbled handwriting on her stapled receipt. Hesitating, she pulled the bag closer and ripped off the folded note. Blinking once. Twice.
The personal inscription mocked her in all of its black Sharpie glory:
Miss-B-Positive-Blondie,
After our little spat, I fancy a chat—
preferably stat.
But take your time,
I know how much
head vs. heart
likes to combat.
xxx
Whenever you’re ready,
just call my name
and I’ll be there to explain
why my request is not
quite so lame.
And how I made it not
in arse-like vain.
xxx
Because, love,
believe it or not,
I am not a complete
and intolerable pain.
xxx
Fondly,
—KingoftheAlphas
P.S. If my plea you please will heed; then, baby, I’ve got the caffeine you need.
Caroline snorted outright—ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous! Surely this was a set-up? A joke? One of Enzo’s stupid pranks gone awry…?
But it wasn’t. Caroline knew it wasn’t. Because she felt him. She felt them.
Eyes—dark blue, heady, patient—they watched from near the window behind her. Intensity x-rayed through the blonde hair covering the back of her skull, but he waited. Quiet. Focused. Parked in a chair. Dimples pronounced and complacent as one of his feet bopped along to the restaurant music. Elbow poised forward on the table’s edge in reaching…longing. Ears primed and sifting through trivial conversation, laughter, haunting the air for the one voice he hoped to hear.
No, Caroline didn’t need to see him; the man polluted her senses whenever he ventured near. (Much to her Mikaelson-loathing horror.) Without glancing in his direction, she barreled to the exit, pausing as her hand pushed against the metal handle,
“All right King Alfalfa,” she announced, chin-in-air, “meet me outside. Let’s hear what creative tales you have to relate today.”
She marched out into the warm spring day toward the umbrella tables, voice echoing behind her,
“Bring coffee. Or else kiss my generous tolerance goodbye,” she warned.
Caroline rued the day when she first connected with the not-so-anonymous asshole sitting across from her right now on Tumblr.
“Apple fritter?” Klaus offered coyly.
“Since this is nothing but your pathetic attempt at peace, which I don’t grant and you don’t deserve, I’d rather starve,” she spat back. After swatting his hand away, she collapsed back against her chair with crossed arms. Glaring, she added, “But thanks.”
Mutual love of art, writing, classic novels, and traveling aside, his tactless and deceitful treachery meant one thing: humiliation. And when it came to shaming an already-insecure girl like herself—well, let’s just say that the scar he left behind remained sensitive. It hadn’t healed.
It’s not that she disliked their online correspondence (in fact, quite the opposite), but that it began under false pretenses. He blatantly lied. Daily…repeatedly…for a freaking year!
For one year, he’d pretended to be some sweet, insightful, empathetic stranger tucked away behind a computer screen in England. He’d listened intently as Caroline unveiled her insecurities—her deepest, darkest, most personal feelings of inadequacy regarding school, writing, the future, love—hell— everything! Only, as it turned out, this “stranger” wasn’t so unknown. He never was.
Nope, he was Klaus Mikaelson—
—Pedigreed British intellectual. Disturbed impressionist painter. Poet laureate under the age of 30. Guest grad school lecturer. Co-owner of the Bourbon Brothers bar chain with siblings Finn, Elijah, and Kol.
—Pompous, cunning, charming, vindictive, prestigious hunk of male. Scruffy yet sexy. Serious yet sardonic. Savage yet sophisticated.
—Flagrant flirter, but well-documented love-philanderer (or perhaps love-wrecker was the right word?)
—Prone to pouting, tantrums, and mood swings.
—Older brother of best friend and roommate…not to mention ex-almost-but-not-quite BANE. OF. CAROLINE’S EXISTENCE!
Rebekah introduced them at a university production of The Importance of Being Earnest a year-and-a-half ago and BOOM. Sparks ignited! Swords drawn, there was nothing but bossy bickering-at-first-sight. Where he was dead wrong, wrong, wrong, she was clearly right; and captivated by her playful spite, he asked for her number at the end of the night.
“But I want you to be more than some magnificent Ungettable Get,” he groaned when she‘d declined, saying that he’d have to earn it first.
“Sorry, but you’re a little rough around the edges,” she quipped from the doorway of her apartment. “I need more convincing. I guess that just means you’ll have to chase me?” she shrugged, disappearing inside.
“With pleasure, sweetheart,” he smirked at her retreating back. “With pleasure.”
And chase her, he did. Popping up outside sociology lecture with coffee and croissants-in-hand. Volunteering at the Red Cross Blood Drive she organized. Sliding sketches and poems under her door, desirous of her honest opinion. Showing up to her apartment for Girls Night In to drunkenly serenade her window with a rendition of You and Tequila by Kenny Chesney.
Caroline resisted his playboy charms like a champ, but felt compelled to knick away at a softness he strove to hide. Call it curiosity. After much bantering, therefore, they went on a few friend-included outings, followed eventually (a few months later; the boy had to work, okay?) by a bunch of top-notch solo dates full of good food, good romance, and good fun. All went well. In fact, all signs pointed straight to exclusivity. That is, until the night of Caroline’s 21st birthday party…
Amid the celebratory festivities, some red-headed trollop named Aurora bounced into the bar and clamored kisses all over Klaus’ lips. In front of everyone…including the birthday girl herself.
“Surprise, baby! Your father’s dead!” Aurora broadcasted loudly, drawing astounded looks from everyone in the room. “No more daddy disapproval means no more long distance, isn’t that grand?”
Apparently, this high society chick (who hailed from Paris where he studied abroad a few years ago) was Klaus’ European girlfriend. And she had arrived in town to serve death notices in obnoxious, insensitive flair…and to stay long-term. Or so she declared.
“I’m so sorry, Caroline. I don’t know what—she’s not—I’m—” Klaus stammered. Unable to find the right words. Emotion gripping at his throat. “—I can’t talk right now,” he said.
“Yeah—no—” she blurted back, stunned and perplexed “—take care of things. I’m so sorry for your loss, Klaus.” Her words sounded hollow and trite, particularly when she knew he and Mikael never got along. “But your family—your family needs you.”
“It’s okay,” she nodded absently, “just go with them now. Go with her,” she waved at the supposed girlfriend. “It’s fine,” she said, “I understand. Really, just…go.”
Releasing a perturbed, helpless growl, he glowered at Aurora before turning back to Caroline and reaching for her hands. He pulled them into his chest and traced them with his thumbs. He peered hard into her face—anger softening, eyes widening into ovals swirling, swirling with intensity; fear dilating his pupils. Pain, inexpressible pain, twitching words against his lips,
“I’ll explain this later. I promise I’ll explain,” he maintained with a squeeze of her hand. “But not now. Right now, I—I have to go. I have to go, but I’ll come back.”
He paused. His teeth scraped against his bottom lip like a rake, digging at some emotion buried beneath dirt.
“I promise I’ll come back for you,” he proclaimed earnestly.
Caroline remained silent. Arms hugged against her belly, she stared at the floor.
“Wait for me?” he pleaded in a whisper. His voice sounded rough. Raw. “Please…wait for me.”
She nodded once, never speaking, then watched as Klaus, his siblings, and the redheaded viper disappeared into the night. His retreating back was the last thing she saw. It became the last memory she possessed of him to cherish. And to despise…
xxx
The Mikaelson siblings quickly left for their father’s funeral in London, deciding later to remain with their unstable, grieving mother until the following fall. Caroline remained in close contact with all but one during their absence.
She waited and waited, but Klaus never called. He never explained. He never said goodbye. He just…vanished.
And soon, so did Caroline. Corralling herself into the Salvatore’s college boarding house every day after classes with pick-me-uppers Enzo and Katherine, the three friends navigated through the loss of the Mikaelsons from their social circle the only way they knew how: with distraction. They studied, partied, laughed, and met new people. And new people included Stefan Salvatore.
“I’m a safe bet,” he said when he’d asked her out for the first time. “And isn’t predictable what you need right now?”
Thinking, not feeling, thrust Caroline straight into Stefan’s net of lackluster rebound love like a detonated cannonball, both of them desperate for someone to reassemble their broken pieces. He, after his ex, Elena; she, after Klaus. Despite their good intentions, however, the relationship crumbled after a drawn-out six months together, leaving her feeling more unfulfilled and alone than ever.
Caroline hated it, but a part of her still longed for another taste of extraordinary. But too proud to pry, to find out why, she asked the Mikaelsons no questions and reconciled herself to the unspoken truth: Klaus never truly wanted to come back for her.
“It was nothing but a manipulation by the Hybrid Heartbreaker himself. An elaborate love game,” she told herself. “He never cared about me. He simply never cared.”
“Why should I be surprised?” she scoffed.
And if all that wasn’t bad enough, guess what? Klaus not only infiltrated her public life, but wrecked her only remaining private refuge: Tumblr.
Her safe haven, largely because of its shroud of anonymity, Tumblr became the one place where she found stability and dependability amid life’s cruel nature these days. She poured her passions into fandoms forever there. Into discussions forever evolving. The blogging site became a freeing, comfortable portal where she could unzip and express. Connecting and confiding in others, strangers though they were, removed the pang of loneliness that hollowed out her chest; for they reminded Caroline that she wasn’t alone. In happiness or in suffering, they were all—each of them—human and experiencing life in their own ways…together.
Caroline just needed a secure place to be and to vent, and all she wished for was something or someone to listen. And when she found that something, that KingoftheAlphas someone, she clung like hell. But what is it they say?
…Be careful what you wish for.
“Level with me here—” Klaus started. Leaning forward, he broke off a piece of apple fritter and plopped it into his mouth, “—just how long are you going to persist in calling me King Alfalfa, when you well know that’s neither my name nor my URL?”
“Hmm,” she mused, “I guess that depends.”
“On?”
“On when you decide to stop acting like a He-Man Caroline stalker,” she replied saucily, offering him a haughty twitch of the lips.
“I beg your pardon?”
As he laughed, Caroline groaned under her breath and took another sip of coffee. He wouldn’t make this easy.
“Why the hell are you here, Klaus?” Her delivery was blunt. Pointed. “What do you want from me?”
“Well, for starters,” he dimpled, “this is all mine.”
He gestured behind him at the Bloody Good Café. The movement, though casual, emanated a rugged pride.
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I assure you I own the joint.”
“Of course you do,” Caroline half-laughed, half moaned. Her face collapsed into her hands on the table. “The one coffee place I actually like, you own. Because that’s my life,” she griped.
The pastry-pushing hard time she’d received earlier from Marcel made perfect sense now. Klaus’ “orders” translated directly into detain the girl.
“And here I thought this new business venture of mine would please you?” he continued wrily.
Cocking his head to the side, intensity overtook his features as their eyes locked.
“After all, was it not you who once suggested that booze and blues only remedied a bad night, but did nothing to improve a wretched morning? Hm?” he smirked mischievously.
His tone, though monotone, vibrated with sarcastic undertones. Slight mocking.
“You’re the inspiration behind all of this, Caroline.” He gestured at the café again. “You’re my muse for everything you see, for everything you taste and feel here. I’m sorry if that displeases you—”
Caroline glared. The devil never forgot how to bewitch, did he? How to pick at old scabs and make them bleed all over again?
“—but it’s the truth,” he sighed, dropping his gaze.
How dare he drudge up that online conversation now! After everything she’d uncovered! How dare he! Apparently the shock, embarrassment, and hostility she’d (rightfully) smacked across his face last night wasn’t sufficient; he’d come back for more.
While the silence proceeded to stretch between them, Caroline battling the anger and confusion within her mind, Klaus redirected the conversation.
“Moving on.” He cleared his throat, “Though I commend you for your creativity, why on earth would you nickname me after that little rascal, Alfalfa?” he tsked, shaking his head. “I’m appalled and aghast. How could you?”
“Seriously?” Caroline gaped.
He wanted to discuss nicknames? If anyone deserved to feel appalled right now, it was her…not him. The sneaky bastard spent the last year trolling her on Tumblr, for crying out loud! Anddd, she might add, he did so knowingly and without once trying to reveal himself!
That’s right—Klaus knew Caroline was the face behind Miss-B-Positive-Blondie from the beginning! He knew it before he clicked follow. Before he sent that first ask, tagged her in that first get-to-know-me post, pressed enter on that first instant message. He knew way, way before he plucked and probed for precious pieces of her soul. Just like he knew that she’d be the anxious woman expecting to meet KingoftheAlphas for the first time at that loud and crowded club last night.
He. Knew. It. Was. Her. He knew all along! Just—who freaking did that? Better yet—why? For what purpose? For a man who disappeared from her life without a single stinking word or an apology, it made no sense!
“We’re nothing alike, you see. Not only have I mastered the art of hair gel,” he argued, waving at his immaculately styled curls, “but I’m suave where Alfalfa is ungainly; I’m all attack dog where he’s all pet-my-belly. Besides—”
“Wrong!” Caroline interrupted with a huff. “Just like him, you’re nothing but a clueless, bumbling kid who’s too afraid to talk when it’s necessary and to shut UP when it’s not! Why are boys suck jerks? You all suck!”
Klaus repressed a chuckle as her fist pounded against the table.
“To paraphrase then—”
He hesitated. Scratching his chin, he leaned in and considered her for a moment, studying the crinkled curves of her cheeks and pinched forehead. Her compressed lips. Her furrowed brow.
“—the correct connotation to attach to the nickname you’ve ascribed would be, ‘Dear Klaus, I hate your stinking guts?’ ” he remarked sarcastically.
Growing restless, annoyed by all this pointless repartee and his stupid dimples, her mind dizzying with conflicting emotions, memories, and realities, Caroline swung her purse over her shoulder and jumped up.
“I’m leaving.”
Klaus’ eyes widened. Trading sarcasm for solemnity in an instant, he lurched forward.
“No. Don’t.” Stiffening, he reached out and encircled her wrist gently and whispered in a desperate plea, “Please, don’t.”
Tingles everywhere. The man’s touch infected her like poison, but tasted like wine. Caroline jerked away from him.
“Don’t you get it?” she exclaimed. “I can’t do this anymore! I’ve hit my limit, okay? I won’t pretend for one second longer that nothing’s happened between us. I—I can’t,” she admitted shamefully.
To keep her voice steady, to keep her mind sharp, she clenched her fists.
“You peaced out of my life with no reason. No goodbye. And that wasn’t fair—it wasn’t fair!”
“You left me here with nothing—nothing but an unfinished story and empty words. You never came back for me. Never,” she emphasized. “Then, later, you pop back up under the guise of an Internet stranger and I don’t understand why? Why lie? Why hide from me?” she prompted.
“You’re better than this! I know you’re better than this,” she maintained resolutely, piercing him with a look. “You made me feel things that I swore—”
Caroline stopped herself here, shaking her head. Choking back a memory. Reining in feelings.
“I may not deserve much, but I deserve to know why,” she said, her voice harsh.
Klaus blinked back at her all misery, misery, misery. Shock, shock, shock.
Caroline watched as the emotions splashed across his expression like blobs of gray paint. They drained animation from his eyes and sucked the dimples from the corners of his once-smiling lips. They stole breath from his lungs and strangled tonsils at the base of his throat. His jaw opened then closed, opened then closed, opened—then slammed shut. Snapping with the finality of a steel trap.
Ashen. Arid. Austere. Klaus’ face became a desert. Words whirled and whirled, but remained trapped in the sandstorm of his tongue.
“Wrong answer,” she breathed as she moved away.
Fishing out her keys, she swiped her coffee from the table and stomped away toward her car with agitation marking each stride against the pavement. Unbelievable! Un-freaking-believable!
“Caroline, stop.”
Shoulders tense and steps determined, purposeful, Klaus marched close behind.
“No.”
“Just give me a chance to—”
Caroline let out an incredulous sound. A chance for what? More mind games? More hollow excuses?
“—I said no,” she repeated.
“Don’t be this way, love.”
“Be like what?” Caroline barked in retort. “Your silence speaks volumes! I get it, okay? You obviously have nothing to say to me, so I’m going to say the one thing you can’t. Good—”
“—Stop,” Klaus growled, cutting off her attempt at goodbye.
Grabbing her by the elbow just as she reached the driver’s seat door, he twirled her around in one swift movement and steadied her against the car. As he cupped her face, hands trembling, thumbs stroking her cheeks, fingers tangling in her loose waves, he lowered his head and parted his lips to speak. His voice came out all cracked and raw,
“How could you possibly think that? How could you genuinely believe that I never came back for you?” he rasped in disbelief.
Caroline’s heart flinched as she stared back at him. So confounded, so pained, her response sputtered from her lips like the air from a deflating balloon, “Because you never did,” she squeaked.
“Yes,” he stressed, never breaking eye contact, “I did.”
Klaus leaned closer. His warm, anxious breath brushed against her face and tickled her skin as his eyes—fixed and focused—stormed into her with thundering fervency.
“But after your dad died—” she started. Her eyebrows wrinkled at him all confusion.
“—I couldn’t stay away,” he sighed, forcing a pathetic laugh.
“All bleary-eyed and jet lagged, I flew back here directly after the funeral determined to clear the air in person. To tell you at once that Aurora was nothing more than a vindictive ex-girlfriend of many months past who…when we broke up, promised to smile in the face of my sorrow and spit in the face of my happiness. News of Mikael’s demise gave her ammunition to do both. Particularly when she saw us together—when she saw how happy I was with you,” he explained.
Caroline studied him closely. Listening hard. Connecting dots.
“She came here out of spite, Caroline; not requite,” Klaus clarified.
Memories of Rebekah’s regaling tales of her brother’s psychotic witch of an ex-girlfriend suddenly floated back into consciousness, clearing out some of Caroline’s smudged skepticism. But that in no way let him off the hook. Not by a long-shot.
“Okay…” She took a moment to process this. “Let’s skip ahead to your epic magician’s act, then. I’m over you popping in and out of hats this year, you know?” she grumbled.
They moved over to the curb, Klaus surrendering his butt to the damp grass with a grunt.
“You’re not Bugs Bunny, so stop acting like it!” Arm-hugging her knees, she appraised him with warning flashing in her eyes. “This real life-to social media life-back to real life hurdling of yours has been disorienting as hell,” she complained. “Pick one and stick with it, would you?”
A hearty laugh rumbled in his chest at this, one that clearly boomed, God, have I missed this woman.
“I take it I’m still in the King Alfalfa dog house?” Klaus asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Caroline rolled her eyes.
“Just tell me what happened.”
“The explanation for that is simple, really.” Dragging a hand across his face, he wiped at tired eyes and scratched at his chin before looking at her. “Irony,” he exhaled at last.
“Irony?”
Smiling at her confounded expression, Klaus nodded, “Yes, love. Irony.”
“Misinterpreting Katherine’s Caroline doesn’t want to wait words when I overheard her on the phone at the door of your apartment sent me away, determined to let you go. To set you free like I believed you’d wanted,” he said.
“And my desperate, selfish, irrational need to be a part of your life again—” he laughed weakly, struggling to keep his tone light and restrained “—no matter in how limited a capacity, brought me back again. I hid my true face behind that URL, Caroline, but I packed my heart into each of those words I sent to you.”
He flicked his eyes to her face. Probing. Scorching, scorching with zeal no longer disguised behind the emotionless curtain of his face.
“And I’m not sorry for that,” he said. “I won’t apologize.”
“Is that so?” Caroline hummed.
As she spoke, she leaned in like a flower unbuttoning before the light of the moon—petalled lips pursed and almost puckered—halting just inches from his mouth to watch, to wait, to waver—breath catching and panting for the air she wanted him to steal, nerves screeching and tingling with desire to relish the coarse softness of him again—to take a bite from his forbidden fruit. To suck a kiss from the one man who siphoned heartache and heartbreak from her soul simultaneously. Remembering how delicious he tasted. How full and round and complete. How he damned her to this burning passion like a seed of pomegranate, chained her to it like queen of the Underworld. Forever awake, her heart purred. Forever alive, her heart hissed.
“Irony is cruel—” Klaus gulped timidly at their tethered proximity. Reeling, reeling. “—it played me like a fiddle,” he admitted.
“Or a fool,” Caroline countered, eyes twinkling.
Jumping up, she pounded two reassuring pats against his back before skipping over to her car and unlocking the driver’s seat door to throw her purse inside. Klaus approached her from behind, hands-in-pockets, and his head drooped low on his shoulders. A resigned sigh dawdled at the edge of his tongue as she placed her keys into the ignition.
“Would you care for some more coffee, love? I never did provide you with all the caffeine you need,” he offered gravely, anticipating her rejection.
“Nah, that’s okay,” she replied. Caroline couldn’t help but shake her head at this last feeble attempt to woo her, to keep her from leaving. “But since all this irony has left me craving carbs,” she mused, “if you get in, I’ll let you buy me brunch so we can discuss possibly starting over.”
The change was instantaneous—like a swipe of color splashed across a gray canvas, Klaus’ expression transitioned from brooding to beaming at her words.
“And later, if you’re lucky, King Alfalfa,” she finished with a smile, “you can make me some Bloody Good beignets for dessert.”
FUN FACT: In college, a guy once texted me “baby, I got the caffeine you need” after reading a Facebook post of mine whereby I expressed a desperate need for coffee. Reason #1 to watch what you say in the presence of a writer, eh? #Beware ;)
