Ink & Lust

Chapter 4

"Can I ask you something?" Keaton asked before turning off the light, casting The Drip in darkness.

The five words halted Amila's stride to the door. She'd just finished a five-hour shift of steaming, brewing, and stirring; all the various milk alternatives were still running through her mind like breaking news on a ticker tape. A yawn formed at the base of her throat and a numb pain radiated in her calves. She wanted to promptly say no but that would only be uncomfortable since he was doing her a favor. She hated awkward silences and sharing a car ride with someone was the awkwardest of situations that even music couldn't rehab.

"I guess." She shrugged, the movement graduated to roll once the muscle in her neck made its tightness known.

He took measured steps away from the light switch behind the counter to where she stood near the door. "How mad is Deja? Is she just annoyed or is she full-blown furious? I don't know. And she won't talk to be me other than handing out slick comments; which I'm used to but usually they're delivered with a cute smirk and I'm—"

He stopped and so did the gesticulations of his hands as the bright headlights of a turning vehicle drenched the corner coffee shop and showed him the confusion on her face.

"I'm rambling. I'm sorry." He glued his palms together beaming in sheer remorse. "She just drives me crazy."

"Don't feel bad." Amila quietly chortled. "She has that effect on a lot of people."

"You mean she's dating someone."

Amila shrugged, her eyebrows drawn together. "Ah...Deja's dating habits are shared with me because we're friends and it's not my place to—"

"Oh, no." He shook his head abruptly. "I don't want to intrude on the sacred code of friendship. I just wanted to know how mad she was so I'd know how big of an apology to give."

Amila hooked her thumbs on the strap of her bag that went across her body growing more curious by the second. She didn't know anything about anything that went on between the two. All she knew was the three of them had a great working relationship and even the other two dudes who worked the early morning shifts were cool that they would sometimes text mostly about work issues but sometimes about customers that aggravated or entertained them. They were a tight unit. A team. So, when Deja gave him the cold shoulder the other day she knew something was amiss.

"Look." She started. "I don't know what you did but—"

He jumped in, "I told her she smelled like coffee in the middle of—" He stopped as if he said too much and scratched at a phantom itch on the back of his neck. "Uh...I thought it was sweet. Coffee smells good."

"Deja hates coffee. She drinks tea." Amila informed trying to hide her smile. She found his worry and dishevelment kind of adorable. "But I think a simple apology would do and add a bouquet of chrysanthemums, they're her favorite and ya'll should be just fine. And back to doing whatever it is that ya'll be doing."

A smile crept up his face as he nodded to her words and seemed as if he was making a mental note of her advice.

"Thanks." He started to give her a hug then stopped, contained his eagerness, and pulled his keys out of his pocket instead. "It's Sunday. I should get you home before—"

"The flower shop closes." She finished for him as he pushed the door open.

The light laugh he emitted as he held the door open as she strode outside to let her know she was one hundred percent accurate. He was going to go on a hunt for chrysanthemums once he dropped her off at the loft.

She didn't pay any mind to the black-suited man opening the door of a sleek foreign sedan but once a familiar person exited from the backseat her footfalls down the sidewalk ceased and her hand froze halfway finished pulling the hair tie off her ponytail.