Still, I don’t want to stop. Don’t want to ruin the one thing that feels good. I’m already in too fucking deep.
Me:Reckless. That’s how syrup ends up everywhere and I end up late.
RedRiot:Worth it.
I’m still grinning when Colt sidles up to the counter to grab half of the order, and we walk out the door.
When we roll into the bay, we head back to the dayroom to unload the groceries.
Beck opens the fridge. “Every damn time with the oat milk.”
Evan doesn’t look up. “No one wants to enable your hipster milk addiction.”
“It’s not a hipster thing.”
“You have a man bun,” Colt gestures to his roughly knotted hair. “It’s definitely a hipster thing.”
“I’m lactose intolerant, you idiots. I hate oat milk.”
“You drink gas station coffee, Beck.”
“Exactly.”
I’m halfway to pouring another coffee and checking my messages when someone clears their throat behind me.
“You gonna stare at your phone all day, or should we just glue it to your hand?” Evan asks, nodding at the phone still in my palm.
I shrug. “It’s quiet. You want me to start a grease fire for fun?”
“Nah,” Colt chimes in. “He’s been all smiley since Flora’s. You see that? Dude’sglowing.”
Beck snorts. “Pretty sure I heard him last week near the end of night shift. Thought he was praying or losing his mind. And then…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “I heard moaning through the wall.”
The room explodes.
“Bro.”
“Shut up.”
“Nooo.”
“Isthatwhy you offered to stay late and clean the rig?”
“Wait,which rigdo we mean?”
I hold up a hand as they all cackle. “Okay,first of all—”
“You’ve been weird for weeks,” says Colt, pointing at me with a granola bar. “Who is she?”
I hesitate just long enough for them to pounce.
“Oh no,” Evan says. “It’s bad. He’s thinking about it, that’s how youknowit’s bad.”
“It’s not bad,” I say. “It’s just… it’s a casual thing. With a girl from an app.”
“What app?”
“Banter. That new one.”
