Page 68 of A Collision of Stars

Ihaveto be on top of things when he doesn’t help, but that’s neither here nor there.

‘Well, this has been a lovely afternoon. It was good to meet you both,’ Nadia says.

A few minutes after Carl sees Nadia out, he packs up his stuff and comes to the till to say, ‘Sorry, I need to run. You’ll be fine closing up, won’t you?’

‘We’ll be fine,’ I reply. As the door slams shut behind him I hear Nadia’s words in my head.It’s important to us that everyone is working to their strengths, whether that’s front of house or elsewhere. Your perfect role might not be behind this counter.Something spreads through my chest. It takes me a long time to realise it might be hope.

When I open the dishwasher I’m accostedby a blast of heat straight from the underworld itself. As I turn my head to avoid it, I give a halfhearted wave goodbye to the final two customers in the shop as they leave. Well, final two apart from Finn, who’s at the table closest to the till, having recently taken it upon himself to be the last customer to leave the shop every single day.

‘Honestly, you should go home,’ I suggest. ‘You’ll just be watching me painstakingly turn forty-four mugs around until all the logos face the same way.’

‘Don’t threaten me with a good time,’ he says without looking up. He’s squinting at his laptop, too close to the screen as usual. ‘But are you free this evening for a bucket list activity?’

I’m in dire need of a physical and mental distraction, which is why I spent yesterday evening scrolling through Hinge matches and acquiring a new target. ‘Nope, sorry. I have plans. A date.’

I pick up a spoon and immediately drop it back on the dishwasher tray when the metal scalds me. I go for the mugs instead, collecting a couple in my apron like it’s a kangaroo pouch.

‘A date, huh?’ Finn’s tapping increases in fervour and it makes me wonder how many keyboards he’s burnt through. I somehow manage to transport the mugs to the counter without further calamity. ‘What’s he like?’

‘He,’ I gingerly stack the clean mugs in their home above the coffee machine, ‘is six foot four.’

He’s still only half paying attention, brow furrowed as he squints at his laptop. ‘Happy for you. Any particular personality traits of note?’

‘When you’re six foot four, thatisyour personality trait.’ I finish stacking my mugs before adding, ‘But then, you wouldn’t know anything about that, as a short king.’

The frenzied tapping of fingers on keys stops abruptly as I turn to the dishwasher to hide my smirk. I take my time collecting moremugs in my pouch, and by the time I turn back around, Finn’s hauled his face from his screen and is eyeing me incredulously. ‘Did you just call me a “short king”?’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry. People love that now. You don’t need to be insecure about it.’

‘I’m not insecure, I’mconfused.I’m literally— no. I’m not telling you how tall I am.’

I recoil at the noise as I drop the next batch of mugs onto the counter. ‘Adorable that you think I don’t know how tall you are.’

His eyes narrow and he folds his arms across his chest. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Tall women have a preternatural perception of height, so I can say with absolute certainty that you are five-eleven and a half. Although,’ I place the mugs one by one on top of the machine, ‘I think you usually round down to five-eleven, because you’d rather pleasantly surprise someone than disappoint them. And you know what? I respect that. It’s nice when short men embrace their height.’

‘You’re unhinged.’

‘And you’re not six foot,’ I say, my stacking complete. ‘Every inch matters.’

‘So I’ve been told.’ His eyes flash dangerously, so fast I almost miss it, and then he’s back to normal, stretching his legs under the table with a yawn, a rumpled prince bored on his throne. ‘No brickwork predilection?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘Ava?’ I spin around to find Dylan in the doorway to the stockroom, where she’s been tidying the shelves for the past forty-five minutes. If I’m honest, she’s so quietly productive I’d kind of forgotten she was still here. ‘Are we still doing the training?’

I glance at the time. I’m not meeting Aiden until later, so I’m struck by an idea. ‘Today’s your lucky day, Finn. Didn’t you tell me ages ago you wanted to learn how to do latte art?’

He sits up straight. ‘Now? You’re not kicking me out?’

It’s a few minutes before closing time, but fuck it. I stalk to the door and flip the sign to “closed”. ‘I’m showing Dylan anyway, so you can try too.’

‘Do I get an apron and a badge?’

‘No. And you’re not technically allowed back here, so if you break anything I will tell Carl you forced your way behind the counter and intentionally caused mayhem, and Dylan and I were simply two damsels in distress too distraught to resist.’

She shrugs, tucking that loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘That sounds fair.’

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