Around her, the coffee shop hummed with its usual evening crowd: mostly students, mostly in groups. They’d dragged tables together, and the low murmur of voices was cut by the occasional sharp, quickly-shushed bubble of laughter.
She glanced up in automatic reaction when the door opened, surprised to see Carter there, back again for the second time that day. His bruises looked even worse.
“Hey,” she said, and he glanced over, a little startled. “Hey. You’re here again.”
“So are you,” he countered. He hesitated a moment, looking at the chair across from her. When she pushed it out with her toe, he pulled it back the rest of the way and sat. “Homework?” he asked, nodding toward her laptop with a bare scrap of a smile to show he was teasing.
“Job hunting,” she said, making a face. “Job not-getting, actually.”
He winced in sympathy.
“I think I’m gonna have to take Maggie up on her offer to help me find something.”
“She’ll love that. Getting people to do what she wants is kind of her specialty.”
“It’s a superpower.” She closed the lid of her laptop, and saw that Carter had his hands on the tabletop, picking at a scrap of loose cuticle. His knuckles were bruised and scuffed in a way they hadn’t been in high school. Roughed up from garage work? Or had he been throwing some punches, and not just taking them? “So, what’s up?” she asked. “Why are you here?”
“I like coffee,” he said, a touch defensive.
She gave him a narrow look. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
He chewed at the inside of his cheek a moment and glanced toward the window. “Technically, I’m working.”
“Lots of bikes in here that need fixing.”
He rolled his eyes. “Club work.”
“You shaking my parents down for some money?” she asked with a laugh. Then sobered. “Oh, shit, you’re not, are you?”
“No,” he huffed, offended. “This is a stakeout.”
“Ooh. What are we staking?”
He lifted his brows.
“Humor me. I’m bored and I’m jobless.”
He snorted, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Okay. So. Top secret.”
“Of course. I did grow up best friends with Ava, you know.”
He nodded, conceding. “Okay, so, you’ve seen the graffiti on the plywood down the block?”
“Yeah. Y’all ain’t as popular as you think you are.”
“Pretty sure Aidan is the only one who ever thought we were popular.”
She snorted.
“We’re trying to figure out who’s doing it. But without scaring the shit out of anyone.”
“You’re fairly non-threatening.”
“I feel like that isn’t a compliment.”
She shrugged, biting back a grin.
“You’re not wrong, though,” he said, frowning. “I’m on lookout. But we’ve got guys stationed on the second floor at Bell Bar.”
