Page 37 of Unfix Me

“How’s it going in there?” I called.

“Fine.” There was a clatter and a muffled curse. I smiled and set my towel down on my way into the back.

“Hey, butterfingers. Save the fumble for the field.”

“Ha. Ha.” His face was scrunched while he picked up the utensils he’d dropped.

“You’re adorable when you’re angry, Sen. Regardless, stop scowling. You’ll get frown lines.”

He rolled his eyes. Turning away from me, he resumed his task. I grabbed the fresh pot of coffee and poured some for myself.

“Have some,” I suggested. “When this place opens, you’ll wish you’d juiced up.”

While I sipped on the hot liquid, I looked at the tense set to his shoulders. Had something set him off? Maybe he’d gone too deep into his head earlier, which made him drop the utensils. God, I wanted to pry, but I knew he’d be standoffish.

Open up, god damnit.

“Coffee, Seneca. I’m making it non-negotiable.”

He whirled around, narrowing his eyes at me. When he looked at my cup, his scowl deepened.

“Is that black?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a psychopath. That’s good to know.”

“Is that a sign of a psychopath or are you just addicted to sugar?”

As he poured himself a cup, he continued to shake his head. “No sugar. Just cream. Black coffee tastes like bath water.”

I inhaled some of the coffee and choked. “I shouldn’t ask how you made that comparison.”

“It’ll fuck up your teeth too.”

“I doubt it’s any worse than drinking it after adding milk.”

“Pretty sure it is.”

“Worried about my smile, Sen?”

I grinned at him to demonstrate how perfect my teeth were despite my heavy coffee consumption. If I could, I’d have a caramel macchiato every day of the week, but unlike West, I couldn’t eat whatever I wanted. Being light on my feet and fast as fuck required a certain kind of discipline. Drinking my calories was the easiest way to screw up my success. Hence, black coffee.

“This is actually good,” Sen noted.

“We don’t sell coffee here. This is just for employees, so the boss man gets us pretty decent stuff.”

“So, how long are we here today?”

“As long as we’re needed. If I have the time, I’ll stay until closing.”

“You can work that many hours?”

“Technically, I’m not supposed to work more than twenty hours a week. It’s a stipulation of my scholarship if I’m full-time at school. Jerry pays me cash here, so nobody has to know.”

“Oh. This is an under the table thing.”

I shrugged, letting a smirk settle into place. “Pays better and treats you better than minimum wage.”

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