“Stop playing with my stuff.” He reached across the console.
I elbowed him away and stuck the pick in the cup holder. “Bossy.”
“Brat.”
Whatever.After growing up together, we knew each other well enough to drop it there.
It was kind of unsettling when Zack parked by the front entrance. I was used to hiking from the employee parking lot, not waltzing right in. He strode ahead in such a way that if one more person was with us, he’d be the lead point of the V formation. He kept glancing back as I fiddled with my zipper and peered at shop windows.
I rubbed the fuzz of my hood on my cheeks. “Will you please stop looking at me?”
“Why are you fidgeting?” He held the door open. “Are you in trouble at work or something?”
“No, it’s nothing.” I rushed past him to get the next set of doors and held them for him.
“Then stop being so weird,” he said.
“Okay, stop being so annoying.”My stomach churned until the scent of cinnamon hit. We were here early.
And so was Harvey.
9
Early Bird
Zack stood sentinel at my side, reading the menu. I was transfixed by the wink of metal piercings and the tall magnificence of my barista. Not that he wasmine. Just my favorite. I flexed my hands, sweating from the crowd and steam from the machines.
Hopefully, my cousin and I wouldn’t ruin the semi-camaraderie Harvey and I had been building. After all, I needed caffeine. And we had fun in the brief time we spent in each other’s vicinity. Those breaks gave me something to look forward to on tougher days.
Harvey dashed behind the counter, grabbing muffins, drinks, and that fabled cinnamon bread. The crisp honey-brown edges and delicious aroma made me salivate. Today, I was getting some of that meltdown-worthy deliciousness.
After we placed our order, the cashier with the man-bun asked for our name.
“Sugarplum,” I said.
Zack gave me a weird look. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s an inside joke with some of the staff.” I swiped my card and punched in the tip.
Zack scratched his ear. “Like some high school prank?”
“No, it isn’t Seymour Butts,” I said, recalling the name he and his friends used to give substitute teachers a few years ago. “Sugarplum is my work name.”
His lip screwed up. “So, besides the outfits, they force you into a cutesy name?”
“You don’t have to say it with such disdain. I like being ‘Sugarplum.’ And the kids like me too.” I strolled over to the pickup counter, searching for Harvey amid the bursts of steam. Outside of my work persona, I wasn’t all mischief and joy. But Harvey was probably complicated, too. His piercings indicated a certain openness to alternative lifestyles. Maybe he’d like the real me even better than the work-friendly version. Most of the guys who enjoyed my temperament treated our potential relationships like self-insert fanfiction with a bubbly anime character. But they didn’t really care aboutme. They wanted the fantasy. If only my heart was satisfied by the occasional stuffed animal and spanking.
Maybe I was the problem. Too weird, offbeat. But the heart wants what it wants.
I stuffed my sweaty hands in my pockets and scrunched down in my jacket.
What kind of person would someone like Harvey need?
“Sh–” A sheen glowed off Havey’s skin as he licked his upper lip. He blinked at a receipt, then scanned the crowd.
Was he looking for me?
Nervous energy propelled me toward the counter. I gave him a half-wave. “H-hey.”
