The fluorescent lights buzzed above as you scanned another box of cereal, your patience thinning like the last few hours of your shift. The woman across the counter glared at you, holding up a crumpled receipt like it was a sacred scroll.

“I’m telling you,” she snapped, “this was on sale yesterday, and I want the discount.”

You forced a smile. “Ma’am, the sale ended last night. I can’t change the price because of an expired deal.”

“Well, maybe someone with authority could—”

“I am the authority today.” You finally snapped, voice cool but firm. “And I’m asking you to leave now. Please.”

With an exaggerated huff and dramatic eye roll, she stormed out, muttering something about “never coming back.” Good.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand down your face, just as the bell above the door jingled again.

And then he walked in.

Tall. Lean. Jawline carved like trouble. His dark hoodie hung just right, and when he smiled at you, it wasn’t that fake politeness you’d gotten used to—it was real.

“Rough shift?” he asked, stepping up to your register with a lazy grin.

You blinked. “…You could say that...”