Golden Grinds.
Muscle memory. It’s funny how the body moves before the brain catches up. I stare at the familiar storefront, the chatter of early morning customers spilling out the open door. Maybe I should skip it today. Office coffee might taste like warm dishwater, but it comes without running into Matt, and a reminder of why I was really in Jaxon’s bed.
I’m about to put the car in reverse when my phone pings.
I grab it, heart skipping, hoping it’s Jaxon. It’s not. Just a message from work. Something about rescheduled meetings and reports due yesterday. I sigh, toss the phone back into my purse, and reach for the gearshift when…
A shadow darkens my window.
I glance over.
Matt.
He’s standing there with a coffee in one hand, sunlight flaring behind him. He motions for me to roll down the window, and I do, forcing a polite smile.
“Hey,” he says. “You were sitting here a while, and it was getting busy inside, so I grabbed you a coffee. Thought I’d save you the wait.”
“Oh.” I blink, caught off guard. “That’s really nice of you.”
I reach for my wallet. “Here, let me pay you back.”
He waves me off. “Nah. You can get the next one.”
He holds out a small paper bag, and curiosity gets the best of me. Inside, I find sugar packets and a few creamers.
“Wasn’t sure how you took it,” he says with a shrug.
My throat tightens, not from the gesture, but from what it reminds me of—Jaxon last night, learning exactly how I like things, paying attention in a way no one else ever has. Heat curls through me at the memory, and I force myself to focus on Matt’s kind, open expression.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I manage, clearing my throat. “It’s just… unexpectedly warm this morning.”
He nods toward the park. “Want to go for a walk? Just a quick one?”
“I can’t.” The lie slips out easily. “Got a text from work this morning. Need to get in early.”
His brows pull together. “Yeah, you did look like you were leaving.”
“Yeah,” I fumble.
The silence between us stretches, just long enough to make me wish I could rewind to a week ago, back to when I might’ve said yes.
Matt takes a small step back, smile polite but a little tight. “Well, I should let you get to it, then.”
“I really do appreciate the coffee,” I tell him, lifting the cup in thanks. “Tomorrow’s on me.”
He nods once, gives a faint smile, and walks away. I watch him go, then look down at the coffee in my hand. I pull the plastic lid off and inhale before adding cream. It smells good. Familiar. But when I take a sip, it tastes a little like guilt. Guilt for using crazy tactics to get Matt to finally see me. And guilt because these so-called lessons Jaxon’s giving me... Ugh. They might not be about Matt anymore. Not really.
I roll up my window, let the hum of the engine drown out my thoughts, and drive to work.
When I get there, I shuffle from one meeting that could’ve been an email to another round of calls that go absolutely nowhere. By the third—let me check with my supervisor and get back to you—I’m gripping my pen so tight my knuckles ache.
You like your job. You like your job.
I chant it silently, working hard to convince myself. I answer a few more emails, my replies blurring together until the words lose meaning. By noon, my stomach growls, reminding me that ambition doesn’t fill you up the way a sandwich can.
I didn’t have time to pack lunch, and normally I’d grab more than coffee at Golden Grinds. But yeah—no surprise there—I was too chicken-shit to go inside.