Page 2 of Wanna Bet?

She was so cool.

Jace had the biggest crush on this barista who probably wouldn’t give him the time of day. Not that Jace had worked up the courage to ask her out yet. He didn’t want to be weird! He didn’t want to be pushy, he… just really liked Myah.

She laughed, sharp and clear, the sound slicing through the morning hum. It shook him out of his inner downward spiral. The sound was bright and chaotic and made him feel lighter somehow.

He watched as she moved around the stand preparing drinks before his attention moved to who he believed was a girl named…Kaylee? Maybe? She was a bubbly blonde who often flirted with Jace. She was sweet, but not his type. And potentially only doing it for tip money.

“How have you been?” Kaylee asked, wiping down a nearby counter.

“Same old. I open at High Tides this morning.” Jace smiled.

Instead of saying anything snarky like Myah would have, she simply smiled.

“Here you go!” Myah came from around the corner, arm extended and holding his black coffee.

He reached for it and, like the giant, blundering oaf he was, knocked over their sugar canister. White crystals spilled across the counter, trickling toward the edge in a careless cascade.

“Oh–shit,” she said, eyes widening. Her usual ease faltering for a heartbeat.

Instinctively, Jace leaned forward. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, grabbing napkins from the dispenser and starting to scoop sugar back into the container. His fingers brushed hers briefly, and he felt a tiny spark of connection in that small, mundane touch. Keep it cool, keep it cool.

She watched him, eyebrows arched in surprise, and then let out a laugh. This one louder, breathless, full of that pure delight that made his chest loosen. “It’s okay, quiet guy.”

Embarrassment hit first. He hadn’t meant to draw attention. He laughed a bit too. He hadn’t meant to touch her hand. Shit. He hadn’t meant to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the panic of the sugar spilling and his need to fix it had overridden everything else.

Then came surprise. He’d never expected her to laugh with him, not at him. He’d expected teasing, maybe eye-rolls, maybe the casual dismissal he’d grown used to from people in his orbit. But her laughter, it wrapped around him, gentle but impossible to ignore.

Finally, a quiet comfort settled in. He realized he liked this. Liked helping. Liked the way her eyes softened when she noticed it, the way she didn’t snap at him for being clumsy or slow like everyone else. He felt seen, not for his appearance, not for his tattoos or his easy, amused expression, but for his small, otherwise unnoticed gesture.

When he started using his sleeve to wipe away the rest, she bent to grab a rag, shaking her head, and muttered, “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Back away. You’re going overboard.”

Jace put both his hands up in surrender as she finished cleaning his mess. Finally, she handed him his coffee, slightly tilted but perfectly warm. “Here you go. One boring black coffee, saved by the panicked guy.”

He took it, fingers brushing hers again, and muttered a simple, “Thanks.” The word sounded small in his ears, though his chest hummed with the weight of it.

He fully stepped back, pretending to adjust his jacket. She returned immediately to the chaos of the stand, shouting at drivers, balancing drinks, laughing to herself. Jace watched her for a long moment, letting the world continue around him while he lingered in her orbit.

The warmth of the coffee spread through his hands and he found himself grinning as he walked down the block toward the record store. He thought about her hands, her voice, the way her hair fell into her eyes when she laughed. He thought about the sugar spilling, and the ridiculous moment of panic that somehow ended in laughter.

He would be back tomorrow.

Chapter Two

From: “Father” of the Year

Samyah, we will need to reschedule dinner.

A work thing came up. Text me back, please.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Maggie had left them with a warning and a set of keys.

“Bank run,” she said, already halfway out the door, purse slung over her shoulder, sunglasses perched on top of her red hair like a crown. “I’ll be gone maybe thirty minutes. Forty if the teller tries to flirt with me again. Kaylee, don’t break anything. Myah–”

Myah snapped a salute. “I make no promises.”

Maggie snorted, used to Myah’s sass, before she pointed at the sign posted in no fewer than three places around the stand. “Drive-up only. You see a city inspector, you didn’t see me.”