RISK & REWARD ✔️

8 | 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦?

SHE doesn't show up for another four days. Business slows down; I wait for her to come in, but she never does. The ready-to-go orders I make end up coming home with me.

It's eleven twenty-six when I see the flash of white hair outside the door. The bell chimes, a tide of brisk wind blusters into the seating area, and riding at its crest is none other than —

"Slade!" I practically scramble back up front. "I was wondering when you'd show up again."

Happily, I set down the bag of food on the counter, slapping down the shake beside it. "I didn't know if something got wrong or if you — got hurt!"

There's a puckered white patch on the side of Slade's neck, peeking out from beneath the edge of her collar. She merely blinks at me.

"What?"

"Here." I gesture to my own neck. "Is that — new? Did something happen?"

I pause, and in a lower voice, I add, "with him?"

Her eyes flash. "No."

"Oh. It's...did something happen with someone else?"

"No. I'm fine."

Her tone borders on aggressive. It feels like we've taken five steps back in regards to our friendliness.

"You say that a lot," I joke, nudging her food toward her.

She doesn't laugh. "Because I am."

Yikes. I don't push it. I just nod, an awkward smile on my lips, and offer the bag to her.

Her eyes slide down. Then back up.

"I've been getting your order ready," I say, avoiding her eyes. "Since the last time you were here."

I hear a quiet breath as I step back. "What?" she asks, brow pinching.

"I just...figured you'd be coming in. So, I got it ready. I've just ended up eating it the past few nights."

"Mm." There's a rustle as she takes her bag, a soft scrape as she wraps her hand around the shake. "Sorry."

"Huh?" Now it's my turn to be confused. Slade's looking away now, taking a few steps toward the door.

"Sorry. For not coming." A short, tense pause. "I've been busy."

"It's not a problem," I hasten, pang of guilt slapping me across the face as I realize I might've just made her feel bad. "I just figured you'd be — are you leaving already?"

She is, indeed, leaving already. Or, going to. She's about three steps from the door when I ask, and she stops when I do.

"Yeah." Her body flinches as she looks back, brow pinched. "Why?"

Standing behind the counter, I shrug lamely, messing with my hands before I place them on the granite.

"If you...want to sit. You can." I wince at my voice. "You always run out of here. You don't have to rush to leave, you know. Unless you want to. It's not a problem or anything."

Slade blinks.

"You said you weren't scared."

Huh?

Oh. Pierce.

"I'm...not," I say, wary. "I just mean if you want to sit for awhile you can. We have," and I gesture to the booths, "a seating area for a reason."

Her eyes flick towards the seats. Back to me. "Don't you close once I go?"