Page 7 of Wanna Bet?

The window was already open and Myah was leaning out slightly, elbows on the counter as if she’d been waiting for something interesting to happen. When she saw him, her face lit up in a way that felt different.

“My favorite regular,” she called.

He walked up, adjusting his grip on his bag strap. “You say that to everyone.”

“I absolutely do not,” she said, placing a hand dramatically over her chest. “You think I’d cheapen this connection?”

“You declared yourself hot on a public sign.”

“That’s marketing, baby.” She smirked.

Jace felt his heart stutter at the petname, even if it wasn't intentional. “That’s ego,” he smiled back, hoping she would play along.

She blinked at him, caught off guard for half a second. Then her mouth curved slowly. “Was that a joke?”

“I was making an observation.” he lied, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Shit! It totally didn't land.

“No,” she said, pointing at him. “That was dry. That was intentional. You’ve been hiding that.”

He shrugged lightly, though he could feel something shifting in his chest at the way she was looking at him–not like he’d surprised her by speaking, but like she was genuinely delighted.

“I don’t hide,” he said. “I just… don’t announce.”

She laughed, and this time it wasn’t the bright, easy customer-service laugh he’d heard her use before. It was fuller and lower. Real enough that she leaned back slightly as it spilled out of her.

“Oh, you’re funny,” she said, wiping under one eye. "A little melodramatic, but funny.”

“Oh, I’m dramatic.” Jace’s nose scrunched in distaste. His father had called him that plenty growing up.

“You might be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Can I just get a–”

She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice. “Black coffee, one sugar?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, but felt a cringe at how terribly boring and predictable he must have seemed.

Myah noticed and smiled softly, “If you want, there's a new special,” she stepped away from the counter and folded her arms, “It’s basically your order but we add cream and a pump of vanilla.”

Jace thought for a moment, “Okay, I’ll try that.”

Myah smiled what could only be described as a victory grin, “Hell yeah! Not so Mr. Predictable anymore, huh?”

He couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up his throat, “We’ll see.” was all he said.

She stared at him for a beat before winking a periwinkle eye and turning to make his drink. Today her hair was pulled back in a long french braid that rested near her lower spine.

He felt it then–the subtle difference between being the center of attention and being part of a shared moment. She wasn’t spotlighting him, she wasn’t pushing him to be louder or sharper or more entertaining than he wanted to be. She was simply reacting to him. And that felt…good.

He watched as she moved around the small space with practiced ease. He noticed and took note of the small habits he hadn’t paid attention to before; the way she tapped the counter three times before grabbing the lid, the way she wiped the steam wand in the same rhythm every time, the way she hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening.

When she handed him the cup, her fingers brushed his. It was light and deliberate enough that it didn’t feel accidental. She looked up immediately, gauging his reaction.

God, her eyes are something else.

His breath caught, but not in panic. Just in awareness. To his surprise, he didn’t pull away or flinch. He just held her gaze for a moment longer than usual.