One Date on a Bet

Chapter One

From: Ellie Wellie

You're the opener this morning. Pretend like you know what you’re doing. ;)

???? ━━━━??? · ???━━━━ ????

Jace zipped his jacket all the way to the collar and shoved his hands back into his pockets as he stepped onto the cracked sidewalk.

The morning air had that sharp, clean edge to it.

The kind that made him pull his jacket tight around his neck even though it barely helped.

Although it was mid August, the mornings still carried a certain chill in Washington State.

Steam rose in little ghostly wisps from the street grates to curl in the cold, and the world felt like it was holding its breath before the city fully woke.

He liked this time of day before the crowd and the noise swallowed everything.

His boots scuffed against the wet pavement in a rhythm only he noticed, the sound muted under the rumble of early traffic.

The record store wouldn’t open for another half hour, but he liked starting his day here.

It was predictable and comforting. A little quiet ritual that made the hours ahead feel manageable.

Good Times Coffee Co. came into view as he was turning onto main.

The stand was small, wooden and made of glass with a little overhang for what felt like a constant drizzle.

It was basically a shack. There were two sides with drive up windows where two cars could be served at the same time.

A hand-painted sign with the stands name hung crookedly.

A few parking spaces clung to the corner of the lot, squeezed in around the building.

It wasn’t much, but it was perfect for Jace.

Steam hissed from the espresso machine as Jace approached the stand, the sharp sound cutting through the early morning quiet. The air smelled like roasted beans and caramel syrup, warm and sweet against the lingering chill outside.

A short line of cars idled at the window, engines humming low while drivers leaned out to grab their drinks. Cups clinked against metal trays, the soft murmur of conversation drifting through the open service window.

Three bright signs were plastered along the side of the stand. The most dominating one reading: NO WALK UPS.

Like, aggressively clear.

Maggie, the owner, had put them up herself. Sweet girl, sure, but absolutely the kind of person who would march outside and point at the sign like he’d personally offended her by existing near it.

Luckily, Maggie only worked nights. Mornings belonged to Samyah. Or, as she’d corrected him the first time they talked, Myah.

She’d been the one to lean out the window, grin a little conspiratorially, and tell him he could come by on foot if it was early enough.

“Just not when Maggie’s here,” she’d added.

Jace hated driving anyway, so it worked out pretty damn well. He stepped up to the window like he’d been invited, because, technically, he had.

“Good morning, Mr. Predictable!”

Jace froze but covered it quickly with a smile.

His dark curls, tied back messily, brushed the back of his neck as he tilted his head to look.

Myah was balancing three orders at once.

She was tall to where he had to crane his neck a bit to look her in the eye.

Her hair was insanely long, straight, and so impossibly pink that it was radiant against the gray morning light.

Her hair paired well with her eyes, which were a blueish almost purple color.

Not that Jace was usually looking, or rather staring at her or anything.

She just had a really striking vibe about her.

That was all. Okay. She was pretty, sue him.

Literally so pretty. Her hair was so cool.

He watched as she scanned the chaos around her with sharp amusement, two tiny moles under her left eye and a glint of silver from the nose ring catching the sunlight. Somehow, even in the middle of juggling steaming drinks, she looked entirely in control.

He swallowed and moved closer, hands still shoved in the pockets of his jacket. The faint buzz of the street faded into the background as he focused on her.

“Morning,” he said quietly, almost hoping she didn’t hear.

Jace wasn't necessarily a shy guy. He just got nervous around pretty girls, and Myah was probably the prettiest of them all.

She was kind of scary too.

…which he didn’t mind.

Her smirk widened, one (pink!) brow raised in perfect mischief. “Let me guess…” She leaned slightly toward him, her eyes sparkling. “…black coffee, one sugar?”

Jace felt heat creep up his neck. He hadn’t even said anything yet, not really. “Uh…yeah. Black,” he admitted, his fingers tightening around the phone in his pocket.

“Wow,” she said, mock-gasping, covering her mouth with one hand. “So boring. You know, most people put–” she glanced at the next driver and waved them along impatiently. “…never mind. You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

Jace tried not to smile. Tried very, very hard.

Her teasing wasn’t cruel or harsh. It was a spark, a flicker that made his chest lift just a little.

He liked when she teased. He kept his expression easy, amused, the kind of face that defaulted to friendliness even when his chest was racing.

He tried hard to be as chalant as possible.

Always remember to keep it cool!

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.