Page 68 of Blades Out
I snorted. "He asked four times."
"Four. Times." Ben shook his head, exaggerated disbelief painting his features. "And you kept apologizing like it was your fault he couldn't make up his mind."
"I was trying to be polite."
"You were too polite. Guy was a nightmare." He nudged my shoulder with his. "Next time, just tell him the foam costs extra. Watch how fast he decides."
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it—genuine, startled, lighter than anything I'd felt all morning. My shoulders dropped an inch. The cold knot in my chest loosened just enough to let me breathe easier.
Ben's grin widened. "There we go. I was starting to think you forgot how."
"Forgot what?"
"How to smile."
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't fight the warmth spreading through me. Normal. This felt normal. Like I was just a girl working a café job, bantering with a coworker, not someone checking over her shoulder every five minutes.
Ben leaned against the counter, close enough that our shoulders brushed. Casual. Easy. "So what're you doing after your shift?"
The question caught me off guard. I glanced up at him, searching his expression for something I couldn't name. Not pushy. Just… interested.
Heat crept up my neck. "I don't know. Probably go home. Sleep."
"Exciting." He tilted his head, brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "You ever take a day off and actually do something?"
"I do things."
"Like what?"
"Like…" I trailed off, realizing I didn't have an answer. My life had become work, sleep, survive. Repeat. Nothing else.
Ben's expression softened. "You should come grab food with me sometime. There's this taco place down the street that's criminally underrated."
"Tacos?" I raised an eyebrow, teasing before I realized I was doing it. "That's your big pitch?"
"Hey, don't knock it. Best al pastor in the city." He crossed his arms, mock-offended. "But if you're too good for tacos?—"
"I didn't say that." I nudged him with my elbow, surprising myself. "Maybe I like tacos."
"Maybe?"
"Okay, fine. I definitely like tacos."
His grin returned, bright and easy. "Good. Then it's settled."
I opened my mouth to respond, but the espresso machine hissed behind me—loud, sudden. I flinched and turned too fast, hand slipping on the counter edge.
Ben caught my arm before I stumbled. "Whoa, easy."
His hand was warm. Steady. I froze, hyper-aware of the contact, the closeness, the way my pulse kicked up for an entirely different reason than fear.
"Sorry," I muttered, pulling back. Heat flooded my cheeks. "I'm?—"
"Clumsy?" Ben offered, smirking.
"Tired." I swatted his arm lightly, trying to cover the fluster crawling up my spine. "And you're annoying."
"Part of my charm."
