Chapter Five
From: Mr. Boss Man
If you’re late again I’m telling your favorite customers you're in prison or something equally embarrassing :)
???? ━━━━??? · ???━━━━ ????
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.
???? ━━━━??? · ???━━━━ ????
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.”
Ellis tilted his head. “By the looks of your hair, I'd have guessed you were late.”
Jace ran a hand through it automatically, which only made it worse. Ellis snorted.
“Rough morning?” Ellis asked.
“Alarm didn’t go off.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“I hate you.” Jace scrunched his brows, tossing his bag to the ground behind the counter.
“You love me.”
Jace turned on the computer and clocked in. “Debatable.”
Ellis slid a stack of records toward him. “Sort these by artist, then alphabetize within the artist. Also you owe me snacks for last movie night because you ate literally all of my chips.”
“Look,” Jace said. “I asked if you wanted some. Not my fault you didn't respond.”
“I can't with you.” Ellis sighed, exasperated.
Jace started flipping through sleeves, grateful for the familiar rhythm. The store smelled like cardboard and old plastic and faint bread from the shop next door. It always grounded him a little, like stepping into a place where time moved slower.
Ellis leaned his elbows on the counter. “Speaking of hanging out,” he said, tone turning casual in a way that meant it wasn’t casual at all, “we should have a game night this month.”
Jace glanced up. “We always say that.”
“And this time we’ll actually do it.”
“You said that last time.”
“And the time before that,” Ellis admitted. “But this time I’m serious. I found this ridiculous co-op game where you have to run a haunted bakery together and it looks chaotic in a way that feels spiritually aligned with our friend group.”
Jace huffed a laugh. “A haunted bakery.”
“Yes.”
“Like ghosts baking?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You’ll be there.”
“I will absolutely be there,” Jace said immediately. “That sounds incredible.”
Ellis pointed at him. “See? I know you.”
Jace shrugged, trying to play it cool even though the idea genuinely sounded fun. “What day?”
“Late month. Gives people time to pretend they’re busy before admitting they’re not.” Ellis nudged a record sleeve toward him. “You bring drinks.”
“You bring snacks.” Jace grinned.
“Deal.”
They bumped fists over the counter, the gesture easy and automatic from almost two years of friendship.
Jace settled into sorting, letting the quiet hum of the store fill the space between them.
A soft instrumental track played through the speakers overhead.
Outside, sunlight slanted through the front windows, catching dust motes in the air.
It was peaceful. Normal. He almost forgot about the coffee stand. Almost.
The bell over the door jingled again and Jace didn’t look up immediately. Customers came and went all morning. Most browsed silently, some asked questions. Occasionally someone wanted recommendations. It was routine at this point.
Then Ellis said, “Well, hello,” in a tone that was not his customer service voice.
Jace glanced up and promptly forgot how breathing worked.
Myah stood just inside the doorway, sunlight behind her like she’d been cut out of it.
Her pink hair shone brighter like that, like a neon halo.
She held a cardboard drink carrier in one hand, the other tucked casually into the pocket of her hoodie.
Her cheeks were pink from the morning wind and her expression was easy, like showing up here was the most normal thing in the world.
Like she hadn’t just walked straight into the center of Jace’s nervous system.
Myah smiled at Ellis politely. “Hey, Ellis. I’m looking for–” she tilted her head toward the counter “him.” She pointed directly at Jace, forcing heat to shoot up his neck so fast it was almost audible.
Ellis’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “Oh,” he nearly whispered in a delighted tone.
Jace set the record sleeve down very carefully. “You–hi.”
Flawless. Incredible, Jace. No notes.
Myah stepped up to the counter and set the drink carrier down. “Hi.”
She said it like they’d seen each other five minutes ago instead of this being wildly unexpected and mildly catastrophic for his composure.
“I, uh,” he began intelligently. “You’re here.”
“I am,” she agreed.
Ellis leaned subtly sideways, clearly trying to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping while absolutely eavesdropping.
Myah slid one of the cups out of the carrier and held it out. “You didn’t come by this morning,” she said. “So I figured I’d bring it to you.”
Jace stared at the cup, then at her, then back at the cup. His brain short-circuited.
“You–” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugged, like delivering coffee across town was equivalent to passing someone a napkin. “I know.”
He took it carefully, fingers brushing hers for half a second. They were long and shaped into pointed ends with a silky looking pink color and silver stars. His stomach did something deeply unhelpful when he thought of how they’d feel against his back.
“Thanks,” he said, voice softer now. “Seriously.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ellis made a small choking noise that sounded suspiciously like someone trying not to laugh. Jace shot him a warning look. Ellis widened his eyes innocently and busied himself reorganizing a display that did not need reorganizing.
Myah rocked back on her heels. “So,” she said. “I was thinking.”
“That’s dangerous,” Jace said automatically, then froze. “I mean. Not that–not that your thinking is–”