A flat voice calls out your order by the time you reach the counter.
You blink. “I didn’t order yet.”
Rhonda doesn’t look up from the espresso machine. “You don’t need to.”
She slides the cup across the counter.
Your name is written on it.bBut underneath it— “Try sleeping.”
You scowl slightly. “Are you profiling me?”
“You look exhausted.”
“Practice.”
“Mm.” She hands you your card back.
Her fingers brush yours. You both feel it. She pulls her hand away first.
You hesitate before leaving. “You’re off tomorrow?” you ask.
She glances up. “Why?”
“No reason.”
She narrows her eyes slightly. “You’re very bad at pretending you don’t want something.”
“And you’re very bad at pretending you don’t care.”
That makes her pause.
You take a sip of your drink. Perfect. As always. “You spelled my name right today,” you add.
“I always spell it right.”
“No you don’t.”
She leans against the counter. “For the record, I spell it wrong on purpose.”
You blink. “…why?”
A faint smirk. “So you’ll correct me.”
Your stomach flips.
“You’re impossible.”
“Come back tomorrow,” she says casually.
“I thought you were off.”
“I am.” She shrugs slightly. “But I could stop by.”
You stare at her.
“Why?”
She holds your gaze this time.
No teasing. No sarcasm.
“Because you’d show up.”
Silence stretches between you.
Then— You smile.
And for once?
She doesn’t look away first.