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I groaned at the idea of elbowing through the crowd just to spend the next twenty minutes standing, and swaying, and trying not to fall—especially on top of somebody.

But if I didn’t catch this one, I’d be late for my shift.

After tapping my metro card, I hopped onto the lowered platform, the automated swish of the door causing me to leap into the person in front of me. Spotting an inch of free upper railing, I grabbed it and hung on for dear life as we barreled down Soquel Drive.

The molting eucalyptus trees struck the roof like a summer storm, leaves collecting in puddles near the gutters that departing passengers jumped to avoid. As the steady traffic merged to go around us, twinges of jealousy curled my toes with every roof-racked surfboard that went by.

Closer to the city center, the hints of nature thinned out, replaced by streetlamps plastered in stickers reminding people to “Keep Santa Cruz Weird.” Art murals covered sidewalk power boxes with whales, starfish, and seals. A man strolled beneath the shade of his pink umbrella, outfitted with matching pants and a feather boa.

A gaggle of tourists huddled at the crosswalk, squealing in excitement as they waited for the electronic signal to flash their cue. A figure stood apart—still as a shadow, their face shielded by a hoodie layered beneath their leather jacket, indifferent to the animated gestures of the crowd around them, even after getting bumped into multiple times. I was in a t-shirt that barely covered my shoulders, and I was sweating. They must have been hot as hell.

My stomach lurched. Not with the bus, but at the thought of those forest green eyes that’d swept over every inch of me like a tide the other night.

I craned my neck as the bus bounded forward, hoping to catch a glimpse, until my upper body leaned so far into the aisle the lady across from me gave a very scornful ahem. As I shifted back into place, the stranger flipped off their hood and an audible breath escaped me, like both of my lungs had been torn from my body.

Just another guy, wearing all black, walking around downtown.

The air stung my throat when I finally remembered to inhale. I’d met Ryder once; there was no way I’d just start seeing him all over town. In fact, I’d probably never run into him again. And I didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. I turned the volume higher on my alt rock playlist to drown out the restless beat of my heart—which worked so well I almost missed my stop. I paused the song long enough to catch the final call, and with jelly knees hopped off just in time.

Keeping a low profile, I whisked through the entrance of Kona Koffee. Espresso grinders, business conversations, and feverish typing adding a soundtrack outside my headphones.

Someone unrecognizable measured coffee grounds, poorly, spilling the grainy residue all over the granite counter. Even though her back was to me, something about her ear gauges and the checkered ruby flannel tied around her waist seemed familiar.

She flipped a stained rag over her shoulder, ran a hand over the slick hair that crowned her bronde undercut, and spun to face the register.

“Ah, River. Meet your new co-worker, Shanley.” The store manager, Tom, emerged from out of nowhere. He had a habit of lurking in the background and sneaking up on his employees, trying to catch them in fireable offenses. Great use of time. “You’ll be training her today.”

The rubber mat I stood on became a glue trap, freezing me in front the Order Here sign, as I stared at the girl who happened to have witnessed my humiliating courtyard performance—starring one. Icy blue eyes swept me up and down, a flash of recognition, and pity, lighting up her heart-shaped face. I wanted to die or hide in a hole.

But I was at work, so I could do neither.

Chapter 9

I channeled cool, calm, collected, but instead of being any, blurted out, “You work here?”

Shanley’s ringed lips spread in a smile across a dramatic jawline. “I could ask the same.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” I cringed after I said it, not actually meaning to apologize.

“No need to be sorry. Nice to meet you.” Her palm, dry as sandpaper, shook mine. She gripped lightly, handling me like I was a porcelain doll, but she was capable of breaking me in one squeeze if she wanted.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” As we let go, I noticed a faint set of scars notched on her knuckles.

“Well, isn’t this sweet. I don’t think our customers were anticipating coffee and a show.” Tom harrumphed and tapped his foot, obviously annoyed at not being the dominant force in the room. Which was a joke next to Shanley’s easy confidence and the canines she flashed in a grin—he practically shriveled in her presence. Still, he bit out, “Perhaps you can move this lovefest behind the counter so we can address the line out the door?”

I turned to him, already expecting the infamous lip quiver. About a five on the scale of combustion. Not life-threatening for me yet.

Frickin’ Tom. His unhappiness roiled inside him until it permanently set like the yolk of a hard-boiled egg. Fitting, considering the shape of his head. I had to say, I enjoyed poking cracks in his shell.

Nevertheless, I jumped into the line of duty even though Tom was exaggerating and there were only two people waiting. Shanley joined me in greeting customers, repeating the script with a forced smile: welcome, what can we get you, what can we get you, what can we get you.

When our faces and voices no longer contradicted our lack of enthusiasm—about one hundred drinks later, it felt like, I muttered, “It gets old pretty fast.” I handed her a portafilter full of compacted grounds. “Do you want to brew the espresso? I’ll steam the soy milk.”

With a gleam of amusement, she twisted the spoon-looking device into the machine and pressed the double shot button as I held the bottom of the stainless-steel pitcher under the steam wand.

Right. “It’s not rocket science, huh? Ow!” It wasn’t the best moment for me to nearly burn the skin off my fingers. They screamed in red-hot pain.

“Are you okay!?” Shanley’s smirk turned to concern, and she turned the dial on the steam wand to off.