"Jason's POV"
Sleep didn't come easy that night. I lay on my back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, and every time i shut them, her face burned brighter behind my eyelids.
She brushed me off like I was nothing.
I hated it.
I loved it.
The more I replayed it, the tighter my chest got, my blood simmering with something I couldn't name. Not anger exactly, not attraction exactly. Something stronger.
Mike's laughter kept echoing in my head. "You've finally met your match."
Match? No. She wasn't my match. She was just...different. Different enough to get under my skin and that was unacceptable. I wasn't about to let her slip away like she didn't just shake my entire world without even trying.
By dawn, I had made up my mind. She was going to see me, whether she wanted to or not.
○○○
The next morning, I dressed sharper than usual. Crisp shirt, watch that caught the light, a little extra cologne. By the time I slid behind the wheel and pulled up to Love & Love Café, I was running on zero sleep but fueled by adrenaline.
The sign above the place made me scoff. Love & Love? Whoever came up with that deserved to be fired. But if that's where she worked, then that's where I'd be.
As I stepped inside, the smell of pastries mixed with coffee hit me. Not my kind of place. My shoes clicked against the floor as I scanned for the perfect spot. I chose a table directly facing the counter, angled just right so I couldn't be missed.
I leaned back, stretching and arm lazily across the chair beside me, the picture of casual confidence. My eyes skimmed the little printout tucked behind the sugar jar, but I wasn't here for coffee. I was here for her.
Minutes passed. I shifted in my seat, glanced at the clock. Usually, someone was already hovering with a notepad. Instead, all I got was the steady hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine.
I frowned. Where the hell was she?
Two women at the table beside me stood up, walked to the counter, and returned with steaming mugs. Then a guy across from me did the same.
My fingers froze mid-tap on the table. I sat there, watching another couple head to the counter.
It clicked. This wasn't the section where you got served. It was self-service.
I blinked, heat crawling up the back of my neck. Of course, I always sat at the tip corner where they came to you. But, in my brilliant attempt at strategy, I'd picked the one spot where I had to go to them. To make matters worse, I'd been sitting there, waiting like a fool for at least ten to fifteen minutes- long enough that a few people might have noticed.
In fact, I caught one kid glancing at me, then whispering something to the girl with him. They both snickered into their cups.
Perfect. Just perfect.
I pushed back my chair with a little more force than necessary and stood, schooling my face into an easy smirk like this had been my plan all along. But the second I turned toward the corner, my eyes landed on the giant menu board hanging above it - bright, bold letters listing drinks and prices, impossible to miss.
Of course.
I'd sat there, waiting to be served, under the shadow of a neon-bright ORDER HERE sign like a complete idiot.
And when I glanced down again, Hailey was already there, tying her apron and prepping for work. I swore her eyes flicked right to me at that exact moment. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see the tiniest curl of amusement tugging at her mouth.
She knew.
Of course she knew.
I straightened my shoulders, shoved my hands in my pockets, and strolled over like I owned the place. No one needed to know I'd been caught off guard. Least of all her.
She was there behind the counter, apron tied neatly, hair pulled back, fingers tapping across the small touchscreen register as she rang up an order.
"Morning," She said, professional, calm, not even a twitch of recognition in her tone, her hand hovering over the screen. "What can I get you?"
I leaned against the counter, letting my eyes linger on her just a beat too long. "Depends. What do you recommend?"
Her fingers didn't slow as she typed. "Coffee's good. Pastries too. Do you want a latte, maybe?"
That was it. No blush, no falter. She treated me like I was any other guy in here. My lips curved into a smirk. "You don't strike me as the latte type. What's your favourite? I'll take that."
She gave me a flat look that almost made me laugh. "You want me to pick your order?"
"Exactly. I like a woman with taste."
She didn't flinch, just tapped a random button on the screen. The receipt printed, and she slid it toward me with the cup.
I caught her wrist lightly as she set it down. "You've got a name, right? Or do you prefer keeping secrets?"
Her eyes dropped to my hand, then lifted back to mine - sharp, unamused. "It's on the receipt." She slipped free and turned to the next customer without missing a beat.
I chuckled under my breath, sipping the coffee I hadn't really wanted. Bitter. Just like her.
But instead of putting me off it only made me lean back with a slow grin as I walked out.
Every brush off was fuel. She didn't know she was feeding the fire.
By the time I left Love & Love Café, I hadn't just learned her name. I'd learned something better - she refused to play. Which only made me want to keep showing up until she did.
Or so I thought.
When I finally glanced at the slip crumpled in my hadn't, the letters stared back at me: Cashier No.3. No name. Just a number.
My jaw tightened.
She played me again without even trying.
And now, she had no idea of what she'd started.