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“Wait,” I call out to his retreating back. “How do you takeyourcoffee?”

“Black.”

“Got it,” I say, slamming my hotel door and bracing myself against it for a few seconds before I burst into motion. I use the first four of my twenty minutes in the shower and accidentally wet my hair when I drop my rag.

“SHIT!”

Bringing my soapy hands up to see how much of it got wet, a splatter of soap lands directly in my eyes. Eyes burning, I curse as I jump around in pain before finally immersing my whole head under the spray.

Once I’m out, I manage a quick towel off before I frantically dig through my amenities bag, praying I have enough product to tame the inevitable curls I inherited from my mother. While Dad gave me the color, my mom graced me with the just electrocuted ringlets sure to appear as soon as the air starts to dry it. I spent the rest of my ticking time blow drying and crunching it as my unused flat irons stared back at me in judgment.

Without a single second to spare, I slide on clean panties, jeans, and my Van high-tops before pulling back on my Seahawks hoodie. With less than five minutes to spare, I haul ass to the coffee shop in the lobby and stand in line, shooting off a text to Easton.

How do you like your coffee?

EC: On time.

Then stop wasting mine. What will you have?

EC: I’ll take a triple shot espresso with lots of sugar and cream and a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg.

What the hell are we doing that constitutes that kind of caffeine buzz? Or are you in need of a substitute for testosterone due to that need for a cinnamon and nutmeg dash?

EC: I know you’re adjusting to the time change, Austin, but your Seattle time ran out two minutes ago.

Ten agonizing minutes later, I walk out of the hotel without a single trace of makeup, looking like a freshly laundered poodle with pink eye. Balancing the beverage tray with Joel’s man coffee and Easton’s girly drink, I tighten my small backpack on my shoulder as I spot the celebrity-typical idling SUV with blacked-out windows.

Joel pops out as I near and opens the back door for me as I pluck out and extend his coffee his way. He thanks me as I slide in, keeping my gaze averted, embarrassment already coating my neck. Aware we’re all our own harshest critics, I still need a few confidence-boosting steps to feel comfortable, especially when attempting to go all-natural. I had no time for any of those.

“You really expect me to take you seriously as a reporter?” Easton chides as I thrust his apology espresso towards him.

“We’re off record today, remember?”

He refuses the piping hot offering in my hand, and I look over to him to see his gaze fixed on my hair just as he reaches up and rubs one of my curls between his fingers. “I like it like this.”

“Clean?”

“Natural,” he says, taking his coffee as a tinge of exhilaration shoots up my spine.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Well, thanks, but that makesoneof us. I guess I’m glad you’re not embarrassed to be seen with a human poodle since all-natural seems to be the running theme of this trip because I can’t seem to get acclimated to a simple two-hour fucking time difference.”

He smirks before sipping his liquid crack as I take a tug on my own.

“I’m sorry, Easton. I forgot to set my alarm after you texted and fell asleep reading.”

“Is that why your eyes are so red?”

“No, they’re red because I’ve been crying over your mistreatment of me,” I quip.

A loud chuckle escapes Joel from where he sits in the driver’s seat. I catch his eyes in the rearview, flashing him a smile before turning back to Easton, who’s not quite as amused. “Okay, so what’s with the butt crack of dawn wakeup call?”

“How we doing on time, Joel?” Easton asks, ignoring my question.

“You’ll only have about an hour once we get there,” Joel replies.

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