Make the news - don't break them. That was the mantra our publicist, Eric, had drilled into us from the moment we had landed this job. I remember nodding dutifully, all the while thinking it wouldn't be a problem for us. Safe to say, that was easier said than done.
He swung at me, and I just managed to dodge his fist by ducking. In retaliation, kicked my leg out, aiming to trip him. A satisfied smile spread across his lips as he jumped and neatly avoided my attack.
"Getting tired already, baby?"
Grunting in annoyance and rolling back a few steps, my sore ribs stinging as my back hit the mat.
"Yeah! Tired from boredom! That all you got?"
My snide remark wiped the stupid grin off his face, replacing it with something sharper in his eyes. I gulped but scrambled up as quickly as my poor old bones allowed. Really should have taken combat training more seriously.
But I hadn't and I didn't know it then, but in about ten minutes, that one damned tardiness of mine would end our eight-year friendship.
Nine years prior – Los Angeles
The heat was getting to me. All day long, I'd been struggling to keep up. Mara, my colleague and friend who had gotten me the job as a barista in the famous Melrose district, had saved me not once but three times already. So much for the stress-free last day I'd promised her.
"Hey, we're out of ice," Mara sighed, and I stopped portioning the cookie dough.
"You are kidding! Again? I'm on it!"
To be completely honest, I was only half mad about the ice — it gave me the perfect excuse to cool down in the back. I let out a sigh of relief as the cold air settled on my flushed cheeks. Little curls had sprung free from the two French braids I'd tried to contain them in this morning, the humidity turning them into stubborn wisps. I didn't even bother slicking them back anymore.
"Fucking American customer service…" My cheeks ached from the constant smile plastered across my face. The little coffee shop was warm and inviting, with soft chairs and big desks that begged people to linger — and yet most of our customers ordered to-go. Why we had to beam like over caffeinated Disney cast members when no one bothered to look at us was beyond me.
Back home, coffee was something you took your sweet time with. Time itself felt different here. Quicker. Fleeting. A race that could never be won.
"One chocolate mocha and a chocolate fudge cookie, coming right up!" Mara repeated an order as I stepped back to the front. I blinked against the sudden sunlight blazing through the windows and went to check the cookies in the oven.
"You know," a male voice said, "my fortune cookie predicted I'd meet someone special today."
My reflection in the oven door rolled its eyes. What a line.
"Well, in that case, I'm glad we already know each other, Dan," Mara replied.
I smirked. She was a pro at fending off overly flirty beach boys.
"Ahhh, you hurt me, dear Mara!" he laughed, light and easy.
"I haven't seen you around since May. What happened?" Mara asked while making his order. I was a little surprised — Mara never chatted with surfer guys. "Waste of air, trust me," she'd told me. "Usually stoned or broke and tip like shit!"
And yet, this one seemed to be on her good side.
Carefully, I pulled the tray from the oven, letting the sweet waft of cinnamon and chocolate chip carry me to paradise.
Behind me, flirty Dan sighed, this time more sincerely. "Yeah, well… classic showbiz situation. We're back to square one."
"Oh, shit. Sorry — you were so sure this time they'd like her!"
Who liked whom? And who were they? My nosiness was about to bite me in the ass when I realized I'd forgotten the coasters for the tray. My hand grew hotter by the second. Great. I couldn't afford burned fingers in this country.
"Ahhh, Mara?" I called.
"Yeah?"
"Never mind — just move!"
With a loud bang, I dropped the hot tray onto the counter, narrowly missing Mara and Dan.
"Well, that gives 'death by chocolate' a whole new meaning!"
Shit. I almost hit him. I dropped my gaze in embarrassment and apologized quickly, half-expecting him to be furious.
"I am so sorry! I—" I began, but stumbled over my words when I looked up. Of course, he was good-looking. Light brown eyes, warm and playful, caught me off guard.
Lucky for me, Dan waved a hand, cutting me off so my silence went unnoticed.
"Don't sweat it! Well… if that's even possible. It's hellishly hot today, and I fear it's not only you two ladies raising the temperature."
The flirtatious tone was back, and any momentary infatuation flew right out the window.
Mara chuckled. "Give it up, Dan. No flirting will get you the recipe. It's a company secret!"
"Oh, I'll wear you down one day. You'll see!"
"That's too bad," Mara said with a grin. "This is my last shift. After today, you'll have to deal with her." She nodded toward me. My cheeks weren't red from the oven anymore.
His eyes shifted to me, his smile widening into full mischief.
"Oh well," he grinned, "I loooove getting to know new people."
The corners of my mouth tightened into a polite curve.
Well, fuck, I thought. Here comes trouble.
Present – Los Angeles, Training Centre
Trouble, Dan was indeed. Not in the way I'd thought back then — I certainly didn't expect to be sparring with him one day — but still trouble. Daniel White might not have turned out to be the surfer fuckboy he sometimes liked to pretend to be, but he was trouble in every other way for me. There was just something about that knucklehead I couldn't say no to. So I'd said yes to his job offer, and to this crazy world we lived in now.
Most days, I was happy about that decision. Other days — like today — not so much.
The training centre smelled faintly of rubber mats, metal from the weight racks, and stale coffee drifting from the corner table where a forgotten paper cup sat. Overhead lights cast a harsh glare that bounced off the mirrored walls, making the heatwave outside feel like it had seeped indoors.
"Oh, I'll show you, don't worry!" Dan called, barely missing my side with a kick that still made my thigh sting.
Where had he pulled that energy from? When he'd arrived - late - he'd looked half-dead, shuffling in with a Coke bottle in one hand, phone in the other, dressed like a hobo.
"Honestly, your train system is more punctual than you are! So much for German punctuality…" I'd said when he strolled in.
He'd chuckled, tossing his gym bag aside. "Well, good afternoon to you too, Carly-cat! And for the record, I'm only half German. My mom kept the punctuality genes for herself."
I'd snorted, unimpressed by both the nickname and the excuse. He'd pulled me up off the mat without a word, and we got to work, or tried to. The heat made even walking feel like an endurance sport, let alone fight choreography.
Still, Dan moved through the scene with surprising sharpness, his cocky grin appearing right on cue. I didn't have to act annoyed when his character called mine "baby."
Then I saw them, the dark circles under his eyes. The smile was a show; the exhaustion was real.
"Oh, I'm not, I - uh… FUCK!" My curse echoed off the walls as I launched a high kick, lost my balance, and went down hard.
Dan tried to catch me but missed, wincing at the thud my hip made against the mat.
"Jeez, you okay down there?" he asked, crouching as I sat up, rubbing my side.
"Yeah, yeah. Just another bruise."
"And to think you ever thought you had too much fat there," he said with a sympathetic chuckle, hauling me up again. "We could all use more cushioning."
I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. His joking about it always made the past feel… lighter.
"You only say that to get free access to chocolate chip cookies and burgers," I said, nudging his side.
He winked, and I shook my head, crouching into position again.
"Okay," I said, "ready?"
Dan clapped his hands together. "Yeah. Let's take it from the top."