All The Wild Ones | Wildfire Series

Don't Blow It

GRAYSON

Waiting for my drink order at the end of the counter, I saw her.

"Hey."

Nessa froze. She had on this cute apron, her hair tied up behind a bandana thing, a stack of cups in her hand. Slowly, she raised her head to look at me.

She blinked.

"Seriously, Grayson?" she hissed after overcoming a bit of surprise.

"Seriously, Adler?" I shot back. "This is where you work?"

Her expression shifted, and she dropped the cups on the counter.

"So this... isn't you stalking me?"

Skepticism weaved into the question.

I laughed despite myself. "No, this isn't me stalking you. This is me coming to get you a coffee for later when I try to bribe you to hang out with me instead of studying."

"Oh." She ducked her head, busying with organizing cups that didn't look like they needed organizing.

Leaning against the counter, I tried to catch her eye. "So you're telling me that I've been spending God knows how much money on caramel macchiatos when you could be getting them for free?"

Her head whipped up, and I flashed a smile to show her I was kidding. It was never about the money.

She gave me a shy grin in return. "Yeah?"

Standing, I nodded and shoved my hands in my pockets. "Manipulative, like your namesake. I dig it."

Nessa's mouth popped open in indignation, but I cut her off.

"You still get done at five?"

She nodded.

"Okay, I'll wait over there until you're done." I pointed to an open corner, which housed a comfy armchair flanked by two exposed-brick walls and a floor lamp.

There were only twenty minutes left of her shift; I might as well stay and walk her back to Ackley Hall. Grabbing my drink, I turned around before she could protest, finding my way to the corner.

I heard Nessa's huff behind me, so I wasn't surprised when four minutes into those twenty I had to wait, a text popped up on my phone. From her.

Nessa: Stop staring at me.

Me: I wasn't staring.

Alright, I might have been watching her a little bit. Her face was just so expressive when she talked to people, ringing up their orders. Customer service Nessa had a different look about her.

Nessa: I'm going to spill something if you keep doing it.

Me: Do I make you nervous?

Nessa: Of course not.

The blush on her face told a different story, but somehow she made it through the rest of the shift without spilling anything. I handed her the coffee on our way out the door, grateful that it'd stayed somewhat warm for the walk to Ackley Hall. She murmured a little thank you after taking a sip and then looked over at me.

"Do you work anywhere?"

I shook my head. "I work at a golf course over the summer to save up, but during the year, I can't because—"

I cut myself off, having nearly exposed shit I didn't want to expose.

Because stress. My moms didn't want me to have a job during the school year. Just like they didn't want me to play football. Just like they didn't want me to take too many classes. Just like they didn't want me to do anything.