Page 8 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

Five a.m. came way too soon. Dry shampoo was my friend this morning.

I spritzed my roots and threw my hair in a messy knot on the top of my head, pulling a few strands to frame my face. I grabbed my tinted moisturizer and toothbrush out of my suitcase, not having the energy to unpack yet.

Last night, I only managed to change into my Sublime t-shirt, shuck my leggings off, and pass out.

I needed to be at Elijah’s by six, so I quickly washed my body, dressed, and packed my gym clothes in a duffel bag.

Cassie and I planned to work out after my shift was over and before I started my second job at Boomer’s.

I studied my reflection. The days spent in Phoenix—away from the countless hours and struggle to make ends meet—were a much-needed reprieve. My skin looked clearer, my eyes were less puffy, and my nerves were less shot from the constant rush from one job to another.

I didn’t realize how much stress had been piling up until I left it all behind. I’d gotten so good at dancing around the piles, I hadn’t realized how high they were stacked.

As I faced yet another double shift in a long week of them, I felt everything start to teeter.

With a sigh, I stepped back from the mirror, giving myself a quick once-over—black slacks, a black polo with “Elijah’s” embroidered on the lapel, and tennis shoes.

Yep. I was the epitome of glamor .

I rolled my eyes at my reflection, trying to shake off the feeling that I was settling into a routine that didn’t quite match the life I’d envisioned for myself.

But I wasn’t here for visions—just for the money.

I had bills to pay after all.

I grabbed my bag, tucked the book I’d picked up at the airport under my arm, and strolled out the door.

My first stop was Grounded, my friend Lana’s coffee shop. It was a couple of blocks away from my apartment and a daily morning stop for me. Coffee shops in Phoenix were lovely, but none of them could compare to Lana’s.

My apartment was a little pricey, but living in the bustling downtown area of Misty Springs had its perks. I was within walking distance of Grounded, Elijah’s, a small grocery store owned by Devyn’s family, and many other boutiques and local shops.

Which was a must since a vehicle was another luxury I walked away from months ago. Landon had held the RAV4 he’d bought me over my head for a while—first using it as leverage to force me to stay with him, then threatening to sell it, then threatening to trash it.

I hadn’t saved up enough for a down payment for my own car yet—I was barely covering my rent and general living expenses as it was.

I opened the black glass door to full tables and a line of people waiting to place orders. Grounded was busy, and the sight of it warmed my heart. Lana opened it a couple of years ago, and watching it thrive felt like watching her dream unfold before me.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit me as soon as I walked in—rich, earthy, with a hint of sweetness from the pastries Lana had been perfecting.

The espresso machine hissed and steamed in the background, its sound merging with the melodious chatter of the patrons inside.

Lana, always effortlessly chic with her long dark hair perfectly in place and crisp black apron, was behind the counter, a face of calm during the rush. She was pouring a latte for one customer while gesturing with a free hand to another table.

I made my way into the crowded shop and stood in line. Lana noticed me, giving me an enthusiastic wave .

I waved back, right as my purse vibrated on my hip. I pulled out my cell while my eyes watched an adorable little girl in front of me—her face pressed eagerly against the glass display of cake pops, cinnamon rolls, and all kinds of sweet treats.

Her mom had just finished ordering when the girl threw her hands up in delight, spotting a butterfly-shaped cookie.

In her excitement, the little girl knocked my hand, sending my phone soaring into the air.

Panic surged as I scrambled to catch it, praying it wouldn’t shatter when it hit the ground. I didn’t see the woman walking by, holding two large cups of coffee, until it was too late.

My hand shot out instinctively, right into her path, and before I knew it, her drinks flew—one of them landing with a splash in the same instant my phone hit the floor with a wet, sloppy thud.

The woman looked at me, stunned, through her neon orange glasses. Her bright purple jumpsuit was miraculously dry, save for a little spot on her left shoulder where the coffee had splashed. The rest of her outfit—vibrant as ever—seemed untouched by the disaster.

She blinked a few times, processing the situation, before letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Well, that was… unfortunate," she said, her voice full of playful disbelief.

“I am so sorry,” I blurted, my words stumbling over each other. “I didn’t see you, and I tried to catch my phone, and—I just… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She waved dismissively. “I think I’m in better shape than your phone, though.”

“Please, let me get you a replacement drink. It’s my turn to order. What did you get?”

“Don’t worry, Soph, I saw the whole thing. I’ve got you ladies covered!” Lana called from behind the steaming espresso machine.

One of Lana’s employees acted without question, grabbing a mop and heading straight for the mess. I winced a little, embarrassed by the scene I had caused and the extra work I put on Lana’s shop during their hectic morning rush.

I bent to retrieve my phone from the puddle and sighed as I dabbed the black screen with a napkin by the pickup area, watching the coffee spread in messy, blotchy streaks across the screen. A new cell phone was not on the list of expenses I could cover this month.

“I’m Andi, by the way,” the girl in the vivid clothes stated as she stood beside me, waiting for her replacement drinks.

I studied her briefly. Although she looked young, her voice carried the steady confidence of someone much older.

“Sophia,” I replied. “And sorry again, I’m just glad it didn’t get you too bad.”

“No worries.” She smiled, her gleaming white teeth contrasting against her dark skin. Then she glanced at the book still tucked under my arm. “Whatcha reading?”

“Oh.” I pulled the book out from under my arm and turned it over in my hand. “It’s called Stirred Martini by Monica McKenzie. She’s one of my favorite authors.”

“You’re a fan of hers?”

I nodded.

I could talk about books forever, but I was sure this stranger didn’t want to hear me ramble on and on.

“What do you like about her work?” she pressed, leaning in a little, eyes bright with interest.

Or maybe she did want to hear me ramble.

“Well… I like how she develops the side characters, almost as if they feel like friends of mine too. She gives her main characters real depth—flaws, edges, things that resonate with you, and make them feel alive. Everyone’s layered in a way that keeps you gleefully pulling back each layer chapter by chapter. ”

“Anything else?”

I shrugged. “I love how, in the end, you aren’t just rooting for the main characters to get together.

You’re left feeling like destiny was a word invented because of those two.

You recall every shared experience they had as a way to believe in clandestine events, like fate.

And if the two of them don’t end up together, you’re ready to put on war paint and go into battle to fight for their love. ”

A wistful smile spread across my face as I recounted the numerous beautifully written stories I read and how each made me feel butterflies and believe that love is real—even if it didn’t feel very real to me right now .

“Plus, she knows how to write a hell of a steamy sex scene. More than just coming up with words for vagina or penis in different, clever ways.”

Andi gave me a wicked-looking smile.

“Oh gosh.” I smacked my forehead. “I just said vagina and penis in front of a minor, didn’t I?”

Andi was full-on laughing at me. “I’m 21, you’re safe.”

Her laugh was so wild and untamed, it pulled one from my lungs as well.

I wondered if she was visiting Misty Springs or just passing through. Maybe she was new here?

Andi reached into her starburst-orange purse and handed me a business card as Lana set our new drinks in front of us with a wink.

“We could use someone like you around the office. Call me if you’re interested.” She reached for her two drinks, then turned and walked out.

I watched her leave, and my eyes jumped to the large clock that hung above the door, giving me a mini heart attack. I was going to be late. I tucked the card hastily in my bag, and while Lana’s back was turned, I dropped a five-dollar bill in the tip jar and bolted out the door.

“Thanks, Lana!” I yelled over my shoulder on my way out.

Yep, vacation was over, and reality had come crashing back with a vengeance. The serene rhythm of sunlit days had been swapped for the frenzied chaos of my everyday life—constant shuffling, jumping from place to place, and a pace that left little room to breathe.

And whether I liked it or not, this was the life I’d somehow created for myself—forever dancing around piles of stress, hoping I wouldn’t slip, and it would all come crashing down.