Page 15 of Wanna Bet?

If you’re late again I’m telling your favorite customers you're in prison or something equally embarrassing :)

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Jace knew he was running late before he even opened his eyes.

It was there in the quality of the light pressing through his curtains–too bright, too high, too awake for the hour he was supposed to be conscious. His brain registered it first, a slow dread rising through sleep fog, and then his body followed with a sharp jolt that had him sucking in a breath and rolling over to squint at his phone.

9:12.

His shift started at 9:30.

He swore, the word thick with sleep and disbelief, and shot upright so fast his blanket tangled around his legs. He nearly face-planted on the floor trying to stand. His alarm sat silent and innocent on his nightstand like it hadn’t betrayed him.

“Cool,” he muttered hoarsely, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Love that. Love this for me.”

Normally he left the apartment by 9:05. Normally he showered and stopped at the coffee stand. Normally he saw her.

The thought arrived before he could stop it, uninvited and painfully honest. He froze halfway through pulling a clean shirt over his head, cotton catching on his arm as realization settled in.

He wasn’t going to make it. Even if he brushed his teeth in record time. Even if he skipped breakfast. Even if every light turned green and the universe decided, for once, to be on his side. He still wouldn’t have time to stop.

A strange, hollow disappointment opened in his chest. It was ridiculous. It was a coffee stand. She was a barista. He was a customer. Missing one morning didn’t matter. There was no reason his stomach should dip like he’d just missed something important, something he’d been quietly looking forward to without fully admitting it.

Except he had been. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t started to look forward to his mornings with Myah. Not just the coffee, not even mostly the coffee. It was the way she leaned on the counter like she’d known him for years. The way her grin always looked like she was about to say something mischievous. The way she talked to him like they were already mid-conversation instead of strangers still orbiting introductions. Like she’d skipped the polite small-talk stage and landed directly in familiarity.

He liked that. He liked her.

He shoved his other arm through his sleeve and dragged the shirt down his torso with a frustrated huff, annoyed at himself for the admission even inside his own head.

“You do not like her,” he told his reflection as he stumbled into the bathroom. “You don’t even know her.”

His reflection looked unconvinced. His dark hair stuck up in uneven directions and he had a sad look to his face. He looked like someone who absolutely had a crush on a girl who worked at a drive-up coffee stand.

He brushed his teeth aggressively, as if that might erase the thought. Foam gathered at the corner of his mouth while he glared at himself. His eyes still looked soft, though. Sleepy. And, annoyingly, a little disappointed.

By the time he grabbed his keys and slipped on his shoes, he’d accepted the inevitable. No coffee stop. No Myah.

He tried to distract himself all the way down the stairs and into his car port. He didn't usually drive, but with how late he was running, he knew driving was for the best. Issaky was going to be pissed if he was over ten minutes late again.

He told himself it didn’t matter that he wasn't going to see her while he started his car. He told himself it didn’t matter while he pulled into traffic and automatically turned toward the road that would have led to the stand before catching himself and swerving into the correct lane.

Still, he couldn’t stop imagining her leaning out the window, scanning the line of cars, noticing he wasn’t there.

Which was stupid. She probably saw hundreds of customers a day. She probably didn’t even notice when one didn’t show.

Right?

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, jaw tightening faintly while some new pop song played low on his radio.

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He slid into the record store at 9:28, breath still a little uneven from the half-jog he’d done from the parking lot. The bell over the door gave a cheerful jingle that felt wildly inappropriate for how rushed he felt.

Behind the counter, Ellis looked up from sorting a stack of vinyl sleeves and broke into a grin.

“Well, well,” Ellis said. “Look who decided to grace us with his presence before noon.”

Jace pointed at him as he approached, still catching his breath. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I’m two minutes early.”