Page 6 of Run Home

You’re buying though, big shot. I’m a poor student.

ME

I’ll buy as long as you do most of the work on whatever big idea you’re putting us up to.

SAM

As long as you promise to agree with everything I suggest.

ME

Done.

I’ll make a reservation.

SAM

Let me know whatever outrageous fake name it’s under.

ME

You know that’s not how I roll.

SAM

Sushi pun intended? Adrian’s got dad jokes.

ME

Do you want free sushi or not?

SAM

I retract my teasing in the interest of spicy tuna.

Text me which restaurant, and I’ll meet you there.

I’m smiling as I grab a snack from the fridge.

The house feels a little less empty tonight.

Chapter three

Sam

“Yes, I wanted to get more details about the air-conditioned tent options,” I tell the representative. She asks for my specific needs, so I give her a rough idea of the size and style I’m envisioning.

Tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, I shuffle my bag and water bottle and open the door to the cosmetology school. Waving silent greetings to Lynsey and Mollie as I walk to the back, I listen as the representative talks through various style options.

“Could you send all this to me in an email, along with the financial quote?” I ask. I spell out my email address for her, then hang up to put my stuff away in my locker. After tying an apron over my black shirt and pants, I bend to retie the laces of my black Converse high tops.

On the way to ready my workspace for the first client of the day, I check the text I received from Adrian. He sent the address to a sushi restaurant I’ve never heard of—which is saying something. I google the name to make sure this isn’t one of those train places with inferior sushi riding around on conveyor belts. I wouldn’t put it past Adrian to choose that for the fun experience over quality fish.

The restaurant looks small but legit, so I text him back with genuine enthusiasm and agree to meet him there. Pocketing my phone, I greet my first client with a warm smile.

When the phone map indicates I’ve arrived at the address, I realize why this place has previously escaped my notice. It’s small and unassuming in a strip mall, and only a sign in the window mentions anything about sushi. Inside, a few people sit at the sushi bar to the left. Glass encases an artful display of the fresh fish on ice—all vibrant colors that indicate high-quality flavor.

My mouth waters. I could kiss Adrian for potentially finding me a new favorite sushi place.