"Hailey's POV"
My alarm hadn't even gone off when I woke up groggily, pawing around the bed for my phone. When I finally found it and squinted at the screen, my stomach dropped.
5:23 a.m.
5:23. A. M.
My shift started at six.
I shot out of bed like it had burst into flames. On my way to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe on the bag of groceries I hadn't unpacked from yesterday. Perfect. No time for that now. A rushed shower, damp hair plastered to my neck, whatever clothes I could grab, bag slung over my shoulder, door locked behind me-go.
It was five minutes to the bus station, but even with the fastest bus on earth, I'd still be late. A cab would still get me there late... just less late. Cab it was. Unexpected expenses there. I sighed.
By the time I arrived at Love & Love Café, it was 6:15. My lungs burned, my hair frizzed, and my mood was one Sam-comment away from snapping.
"You're late," Sam said flatly as I rushed past her.
"Good morning to you too," I muttered under my breath, tugging on my apron. She gave me a look that promised this conversation wasn't over. I gave her a smile that promised I didn't care.
And then I saw him.
The guy from yesterday.
He was sitting right there, directly facing the counter like he'd chosen the seat for maximum visibility. I sighed inwardly. Dressed sharper, too-crisp shirt, watch catching the light, like this was a business meeting instead of a coffee run. Because of me? I doubted it. At least, I tried to.
I slipped into my rhythm, taking orders, punching them into the register, glancing his way without meaning to. He wasn't ordering. Just sitting there. Distracted. Almost... anxious? Weird.
"Miss, I said iced latte?" a customer reminded me.
"Right, right. Sorry. One sec." I smiled, keyed it in, handed it off.
Another quick glance. He was still sitting. Ten minutes now.
Then it clicked. He thought this was the section where servers came to you. Oh no.
A laugh almost slipped out before I bit it back. His confidence must've taken a serious hit just sitting there, waiting like a king for his servant. Poor him.
And of course, that was when he looked up and caught me almost smiling. Our eyes nearly met. I ducked my head fast, pretending I hadn't noticed.
When he finally stood and made his way toward the counter, I pasted on my professional face, the one that said 'I don't know you, you're just customer number fifty-three today.'
"Morning," I said smoothly, fingers tapping the screen. "What can I get you?"
"Depends," he leaned against the counter, eyes heavy on me. "What do you recommend?"
Of course. He had to make it complicated.
"Coffee's good. Pastries too. Do you want a latte, maybe?"
"You don't strike me as the latte type." Smirk. Always the smirk. "What's your favourite? I'll take that."
I almost laughed in his face. He couldn't even pick his own coffee. Typical. My first instinct was to serve him the cheapest thing on the menu. My second was to go for the most overpriced, overrated drink we had. Guess which one won.
I tapped it in, printed the receipt, slid it toward him. Conversation over. Or so I thought.
"You've got a name, right? Or do you prefer keeping secrets?" His voice had that cocky tilt again.
I didn't even blink. "It's on the receipt."
I shifted my apron so the name tag was hidden, turned to the next customer, and dismissed him from my world.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him smirk as he walked away. Like he thought he'd won something. Please. He probably believed the slip in his hand had my name on it. He really didn't buy his own coffee often, did he?
I let myself grin once his back was turned. He was in for a rude awakening when he saw it said Cashier #3. Round one to me.
The rest of my shift blurred together. I worked straight through, no breaks, and no covering of extra shifts. By the time I clocked out, my mind was already racing through everything I'd left undone at home-groceries to unpack, food to cook, dishes, laundry, reading, the works.
I changed quickly, stepped out into the sunlit street, and breathed easier. Daytime was freedom; nighttime was fear. I hoped I wouldn't see him waiting outside- that guy, I mean. I swore he'd mentioned his name earlier but of course i couldn't remember. My eyes flicked around just in case. Nothing.
Good. Relief washed through me... though, if I was honest, a strange sliver of disappointment came with it too. Not that I'd admit that out loud.
My stomach growled loud enough to snap me back. Food. Home. Schedule. Focus.
I turned onto my street, rehearsing my evening plan in my head, until something stopped me cold.
A black sedan. Parked near my building.
Black sedan. Gray Hudson.
My boyfriend.