Chapter Three
From: Jace’s iPhone
No new messages.
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Jace had never thought of himself as someone who looked forward to mornings.
He tolerated them. He woke up when he needed to, followed routines that made the world feel manageable, and moved through the early hours with quiet efficiency. Mornings were something to get through, not something to anticipate.
When he was younger–and his family was still around–Jace used to spend his mornings cooking pancakes with his mom and watching his dad read the morning paper. Mornings used to be safe and mundane for him. It hadn't been like that in a long time.
When his alarm went off that Thursday, the feeling in his chest wasn’t dread or excitement, there was a lightness there.
A small, steady pull forward. He lay still for a moment staring at the ceiling while the faint gray of early morning filtered through the blinds.
Seattle was already buzzing with life outside his window.
sighed, sitting up and stretching. He told himself it was just another day.
Another shift. Another stop at the stand.
He went every morning. That wasn’t new. Still, he found himself getting ready with more attention than usual, smoothing his shirt twice instead of once, adjusting the strap of his bag so it sat just right against his shoulder.
He didn’t interrogate the impulse too closely. He just let himself move through it.
Outside, the air held that thin Washington chill that never quite committed to warmth. The sky was pale and undecided, the kind of overcast that felt soft instead of heavy. The stand came into view at the end of the block, string lights still faintly glowing against the early light.
The chalkboard sign out front made him stop.
TODAY’S MOOD:
Hot. Like your barista.
He read it once. Then again. A quiet huff of laughter escaped him before he could stop it.
‘Hot barista’ was an understatement. Jace was pretty sure everyone who worked there–man and woman alike–had to pass some kind of hotness test. Jace would never say that outloud, he wasn't trying to be creepy.
It just seemed like Maggie only hired the most attractive folks in Seattle.
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.
“Careful,” she said softly. “It’s hot.”
“I can handle it,” he replied.
Her eyebrow lifted slightly. “Can you?”
He took a slow sip, meeting her eyes over the rim of the cup. “It’s manageable.”
The corner of her mouth curved again, slower this time. “You’re on a roll today.”
“It’s a good Thursday.” He wasn't sure why he said that. He doubted it even made any sense.
She shook her head, smiling like she’d uncovered something she hadn’t expected.
A comfortable quiet settled between them, not awkward and not strained. Cars passed in the distance. Someone walked a dog down the sidewalk. The world moved around them, but neither of them rushed to end the moment.
“You work today?” she asked.
“Yeah. In about fifteen.”
“Issaky opening?” She cocked a brow.
He tried to hide the shock of her knowing Issaky on his face, “Probably. He likes pretending he’s disciplined.”
She laughed again, softer. “He’s pretty disciplined if you ask me.”
He paused at that, not because it startled him, but because she’d said it so plainly.
“Why do you think that?” he asked, curious.
She nodded, as if that confirmed something for her. “He used to come here every morning to get Ellis a spritzer before the poor guy finally agreed to go out with him. If that isn't discipline, I don't know what is.”
He wasn't sure how he felt about her knowing his close friends so intimately. Not that it would be a bad thing if she did, he just once again felt like he was on the outside of a friend group.
“I should go,” he said eventually.
“Yeah,” she replied, though she didn’t sound like she wanted him to.
As he stepped back, she called his name, making him turn around to look at her.
“Tomorrow,” she said casually, “I’m testing a new drink.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want you to try it,” She shouted over the car that pulled into the window spot.
He nodded once. “I’ll prepare accordingly.”
She smiled like that answer pleased her. The walk to the record store felt shorter than usual.
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The bell above the shop door chimed softly when he walked in. The familiar scent of vinyl and old paper wrapped around him, grounding him in the way it always had.
Ellis stood behind the counter, flipping through a stack of new arrivals. He looked up as the door closed and then he paused.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Well,” Ellis said slowly. “Look at you.”
Jace set his bag down. “What.”
“You look suspicious.”
“That’s vague, and isn't Issaky supposed to be working this morning?”
“He’s taking care of some bank business," Ellis waved his hand dismissively. “You look happy.” He took his headphones off and sat them on the wooden counter.
The word landed gently but firmly.
“I always look like this,” Jace replied.
“No,” Ellis said. “You don’t.”
Jace busied himself turning on the display lights, aware of Ellis watching him with open curiosity.
He loved the man–platonically of course–and he was Jace’s best friend.
In the last year and half that Jace had been working at High Tides, Ellis and him had grown really close.
This resulted in Saturday movie nights at Ellis and Issaky’s bougie ass apartment, every other weekend beach trips, and Ellis being all too comfortable inserting himself into Jace’s–nonexistant–love life.
“Are you finally seeing someone?” Ellis asked, tone light but pointed.
The question tightened something low in Jace’s stomach. “No,” he said, a little too quickly.
Ellis grinned. “That was fast.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“There’s nothing happening.”
“Sure.”
Jace turned to face him. “I went to the stand this morning.”
Ellis’ expression shifted immediately into exaggerated understanding. “Oh.”
“Don’t.”
“Oh,” Ellis repeated, clearly entertained.
“She’s just nice,” Jace said.
Ellis’ grin softened slightly. “Nice how?”
Jace hesitated, searching for the right word. “She jokes with me, and she listens,” he said finally.
Ellis didn’t make a joke about that. “Yeah?” he asked gently.
“Yeah.”
“And you like that.”
Jace shrugged, but it wasn’t dismissive. It was honest. “She laughs at my jokes,” he added.
Ellis’ eyebrows shot up. “You have jokes?”
“Apparently.”
Ellis laughed. “I love this development for you.”
“There is no development.”
“Mm,” Ellis hummed knowingly.
They fell into an easy silence, the kind that didn’t require filling. After a moment, Ellis straightened. “Issaky and I are going to Jay’s later for tacos. You want anything?”
Jace shook his head. “No, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Ellis studied him for a second longer, then nodded. “All right. Offer stands.”
As Ellis went back behind the counter, Jace adjusted a record that didn’t need adjusting and caught his reflection faintly in the shop window.
Maybe Ellis was right. He didn’t feel louder or brighter. He just felt… steadier. That morning at Good Times, he hadn’t felt like he was being examined. He hadn’t felt like he was performing. He had just been himself, and she had met him there.
The thought didn’t scare him and it surprisingly didn’t feel like stepping into a spotlight. It felt like standing beside someone who wasn’t trying to pull him forward or push him back–just standing with him.
Tomorrow he would test her “new” drink. He wasn’t sure what that meant. But for the first time in a while, he found himself looking forward to finding out.