Saturday is Diego's first day of work. His shift starts at 2:30 so he decides to spend the half hour before he has to clock in, at my workplace doing nothing in particular. I'm working the register and he's standing around, loitering if you want to be technical. "Why don't you buy a book or something?" I ask.

He scoffs as he looks at me. "Do I look like I read?" he asks.

"You look like you should," I mumble, earning an eye roll from him. "And get off the counter." He stands up before resting against it.

"Guess what I'd rather be doing right now?" he prompts me as he looks around the store.

"What?" I reply, unsure of what he's going to say.

"Anything..." he answers. "Literally anything."

"I can think of a few things you wouldn't want to be doing..." I mutter and he turns to look at me, narrowing his eyes.

"You're a little pervert, you know that?" he asks and I open my mouth in a small gape.

"I wasn't even talking about that," I respond. "I was thinking that you wouldn't want to be dangling from a branch off of a two thousand foot cliff."

"Actually, I'd rather do that than wait tables and serve coffee," he tells me with slightly narrowed eyes as he stares off into the distance.

"I thought you liked coffee," I rejoin and he nods.

"Drinking it, yes. Making it, sure. Serving it, no," he retorts as he gazes down at his hands.

"Well, it's money in your pocket," I say with a shrug.

"I work five days a week. Might as well quit school and work there full time," he murmurs.

"Like I said, money in your pocket," I reply.

"I even work on the weekends," he continues to complain.

"Yeah, me too," I return.

"At least you don't have to do much here," he grumbles. "I have to clean." He allows a series of swear words to flow from his mouth.

"How do you know?" I ask and he takes his phone from his pocket. At first, I think he's ignoring me until he slides it across the counter. I lift it and read the message from Sue. I let out a laugh when I see the job description. Cleaning...serving...preparing drinks... "Sounds like a fun time."

"No! It doesn't," he responds. "It sounds like hell."

"It's your first day. She's probably going to go easy on you. She most likely said all this to scare you," I reply, handing his phone back to him. He locks it and slides it back in his pocket.

"Hopefully. The last thing I need is a hard job," he complains.

"I can't help but agree with you," I acknowledge. "You should be focusing on your studies."

"I've been handing in most of my homework," he informs me. "I've been doing my classwork. I was only late three times this week. My studies are going fine. Get off my back, will you?"

"Do all of your homework and I'll get off your back," I snap. "What are your grades looking like?"

"The best they've been since my freshman year, I'll tell you that much," he answers.

"Can I see them?" I ask. When I see his reluctance, I poke out my lower lip and widen my eyes. He gives me a long look before sighing loudly. I grin as he reaches for his pocket again.

"They're nothing compared to yours, I'm sure," he warns me as he unlocks his device and slides it over the counter.

I scan his grades and am genuinely surprised. I expect a few D's and maybe an F or two but I'm pleasantly shocked to find that he's passing his study hall, which leads me to believe that attendance isn't counted. He has a B+ in American Lit, which amazes me more because she's a hard grader; a C- in Music Theory; a B in Global Studies; a C+ in Chemistry; C in Pre-Calculus, and a B in Computer Science. "These actually aren't that bad," I tell him, feeling pride well up in my chest.

"Are they up to your standards?" he asks sarcastically but I decide to answer him seriously.

"I'm sure they'd all go up a letter if you'd simply do your homework," I respond and he rolls his eyes at me, accepting his phone as I hand it back to him. "You know, you'd probably finish it if you went to study hall."

"Why go to study hall when I can do other things?" he asks. "You saw my grade; I'm passing."

"Yeah but you're not even taking advantage of time you have specifically for getting your work done. Think about it like this you're already forced to be in school-," he cuts me off, reminding me that he doesn't have to be, "well you're supposed to be. Either way, you're supposed to be there. It's a hour and a half long. You could get all of your homework done then and when you get home, you're free to do whatever you want!"

"Until I have to work," he reminds me.

"On the days you don't have to work," I clarify and he sighs.

"But then I won't have to do homework with you," he replies with a smirk.

"Shut up," I say, wanting to groan in frustration as a blush spreads to my cheeks.

I look at the clock and see that it's 2:28. "You should probably head over to the coffee shop."

He looks at his phone. "I have two minutes."

"Go," I urge him and he sighs. "I'll see you later."

+++

"Hey, J.D," Diana calls from her place beside me at the second register, adding in a sharp kick to my calf in case I didn't hear her. I look up from the customer I'm checking out to see J.D. enter the bookstore.

"Hey, Diana," he responds with a grin.

"Hey, J.D," I greet him with my usual smile.

"Hey, Ri, how goes it?" he inquires as he leans against the counter beside me. He's surprisingly tall, standing at about 6'4" but even leaning against the counter, he towers over me, which is an unfamiliar feeling. His hair is curly and brown, giving him a boyish appearance. He gives me a large grin, revealing his braces and enunciating the dimples on his cheeks. He's the definition of adorable, which is one reason why Diana's accusations of him having a crush on me is so unlikely.

"Good, I haven't seen you around for a few weeks," I tell him, noting the fact that his usually pale skin has a nice tan. He usually comes around the bookstore once or twice a week for no reason in particular, sometimes buying an odd book. As of the first month of this past summer, he's been what you'd call a regular customer. Diana claims that he only comes around because I'm here but I doubt it.

"Well, I was in Mexico the week before school started back up and since then, I've been swamped with work," he explains. He is a freshman in college, which is another reason why Diana's assumption is unrealistic. He's only 18 but it's odd; what college boy will like a high school girl?

"We've missed having you around the bookstore," I tell him with a smile.

"I've missed you," he replies and I blink a few times, unsure of how to respond. I feel Diana's gaze on me and I'm grateful that she keeps quiet.

"How was Mexico?" I ask after a moment of awkward silence in which he just stared at me with a smirk on his face.

"Beautiful," he says. "It reminded me of you."

"What?" I ask, taken aback. Diana coughs, perhaps to cover up a laugh. If it was, it was done well because I couldn't tell.

He smiles at me and shakes his head. "Nothing. So how is junior year?"

"So far?" I start before blowing out a breath. "Stressful." And I don't even mean the work.

"Ah, yes, junior year was stressful," he nods.

We talk for a little while more before he grabs a book, purchases it, and exits the shop. "I doubt he's going to read that," Diana mutters.

"What do you mean?" I ask, a bit drained from the conversation.

"He was obviously more interested in hitting on you than buying a book," she retorts. "He probably just wanted to make it look like he came here with a purpose so he didn't seem so rejected when you didn't flirt back."

I can't really deny the fact that he was flirting with me. It was much more noticeable now but for some reason, I couldn't grasp the idea that he actually likes me. "I don't know..." I mumble.

"Why don't you like him? He's nice, sweet, and he's so cute!" Diana urges.

I shrug as I slip from behind the counter, ready to take my break. I'm excited to see how Diego is holding up after an hour and a half of being on the job. He won't make me feel guilty for not liking boys that are apparently everything I'm looking for and more.

When I enter the coffee shop, I see him behind the register, taking a lady's order with a bored look on his face. After accepting her cash and putting it in the register, he begins attempting to make the drink, getting corrected by Sue as he goes. I'm not surprised to see that he's getting frustrated, but I am surprised that he hasn't walked out already.

"The usual, Orion?" Sue asks and Diego turns to look at me, shaking his head as if he wants to slam it against the hot coffee maker. I resist the urge to chuckle as I nod in response to Sue.

"Thank you," I reply. I hand her the money, listening as she teaches Diego how to make a hot cocoa. He's clenching his jaw in annoyance. The white apron covering his clothes is drizzled with small brown stains but he still manages to pull it off. I want to give a whistle at how good he looks but refrain from doing so for multiple reasons.

I walk to my usual table and sit down, staring at Diego rather than into the dreary, bleak plaza parking lot. It's hard not to notice how good looking he is. It's also hard to take the time to admire his good looks. He's always so observant and alert that you can barely glance at him without him noticing it, or worse, acknowledging it. Take this past week for example. I'd try to subtly glance at him when he'd sit down and do his homework with me, which became an every other day thing, varying in time lengths. Though, I'd look at him for a split second and he'd immediately look up and make eye contact or better yet, he'd ask what I wanted. It's like he has eyes all over his head because he always seems to know when I'm chancing a glance at him.

As if on cue, he turns away from the machines and makes eye contact with me. I half expect him to ask what I want from across the restaurant, so when he simply closes his eyes, sighs, and shakes his head, I let out a breathy laugh. A few seconds later, I see him filling up a cup and traveling from behind the counter towards me. He reaches me and places the cup down with a tired sigh. Rather than walking back towards his post, he sits down, and glances at Sue, who is too busy with something behind the counter to worry about his whereabouts.

"How's it going?" I ask him as I roll the cup between my hands.

"Horrible," he expresses. "I smell like coffee and donuts and I accidentally slammed my arm on the edge of the counter." Pulling up the black long sleeve of his shirt, he bares his arm to me. On his muscular and slightly veiny forearm, I see a purple bruise forming and I cringe.

"How'd you do that?" I ask, sipping the hot cocoa. It's not exactly hot. It is more of a cool drink, like a cold cocoa. Would it be considered chocolate milk then? Or chocolate water?

"The stupid," swear word, swear word, swear word, "coffee machine beeped and I turned to get the drink but I didn't realize how close I was to the counter." I wonder if he could express his anger without so many vulgar terms.

Before I can comment on his bruise, Sue ushers him over. "Thanks for the cold cocoa, by the way," I respond and he furrows his eyebrows.

"Cold?" he asks and I nod. He picks it up and sips it before swearing yet again. "I'll make you another one."

"No it's fine. I have to get going anyway," I tell him, wondering if he knows that what he just did is an indirect kiss. "It's like chocolate milk."

"And you like chocolate milk?" he asks, earning a nod in response.

"I love chocolate milk," I answer.

He offers me a smile small. "And you claim you're not innocent."

"Only innocent people are allowed to like chocolate milk?" I ask.

Rolling his eyes, he points at me. "I'll see you when my shift is over."

I nod before leaving the small coffee shop, waving at Sue as I go.

+++

Diego and I arrive home to find his dog, whose name I've yet to learn, out and about, jumping around with my brothers, who are laughing and having a good time. The big dog bounds towards me as I enter the house and I move to the side just in time. The dog ends up running into Diego, who reaches down and pets him, receiving licks all over his hands. "He tastes the coffee," Diego notes.

"Who let the dog out?" my mom asks curiously as she passes us, approaching the kitchen.

"He was crying at the door so we took him for a walk..." Nate trails before looking at Diego. "I hope you don't mind."

"I don't," he says as he scratches the dogs neck. "Thanks...he probably would've peed on the carpet had you not."

"Maybe you should let him walk around, you know?" Calum asks. "We don't mind."

"If it's okay with your parents..." Diego trails, looking to my mom, who shrugs carelessly.

"Just, you know, don't let him go into my room," I mutter.

"As long as he doesn't use the bathroom everywhere, I don't mind. Also, he's not allowed on the couch," my mom explains and my brothers look at each other. I could already tell that they'd broken the second rule.

The dog bounds towards me again, smelling me noisily. He suddenly jumps up so that his paws are on my stomach. I take a step back from having the air knocked out of me. How much does this dog weigh? I immediately put my hand out to avoid having his face in mine. I already feel a sneeze coming on. "Okay, doggy, get down now," I mumble as I tried to inch away. I sneeze, startling the dog. A few seconds later, he wraps his legs around my waist, moving his hips at a rapid pace. It takes me a minute to realize that he's humping me. My brothers laugh loudly as I shriek, wanting to push the dog off but not wanting to get bitten. He's suddenly pulled off of me and I take a few steps back.

"Diablo," Diego says in a firm voice, following it with a command I can't quite understand. The dog drops to it's bottom and stares up at Diego with a tilted head and drooping tongue.

I sneeze again as my youngest brother stares at the black dog. "You trained him in Spanish?" Benji asks.

"That's why he didn't reply when we told him to get off the couch; he speaks Spanish," Nate realizes. "Language barriers, man."

"Lucky for you guys, I took Spanish for two years," Calum says with a grin.

"You flunked out of Spanish, honey," my mother pipes from the kitchen, where she's preparing dinner.

"What's his name?" I ask as I fight off another sneeze.

"Are you allergic to dogs?" Diego asks as if my sneezing isn't giving it away. I itch my neck with both of my hands as I squint at him. Nodding, I let out another sneeze.

"His name..." I trail between sneezes and Diego nods as he runs his hand along the dog's back.

"Diablo," he answers and when he catches my blank stare, he grins cheekily and provides me with the translation. "Devil."

"Suits him well," I explain before pointing to the stairs. "I'm going to go shower and..." sneeze, "take an allergy pill."

"They're in the medicine cabinet, sweetie," my mom reminds me as I head towards the stairs.

+++

"You okay?" a voice asks from my opened door and I see that it's Diego, who has dog hair all over his shirt. When he sees me staring, he looks down and moves to brush it off before stopping. "I brushed him. He shouldn't shed too much until...well, tomorrow. I'll brush him often, though."

"Thanks," I mutter as I rub my eyes, which are still red and occasionally watery. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"I think he has a little crush on you," Diego laughs as he leans against my door frame.

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't go about his crushes like that," I mumble. If he were a person, he'd have a sexual assault charge on his plate.

Diego laughs again before shaking his head. "Sorry about that, though. He didn't scratch you right?" he asks and I shake my head. "I don't think he realizes that he weighs 80 pounds."

"Yeah well I did," I grumble.

"I'll make sure to keep him out of your room," Diego replies. As if on cue, the large dog jogs up behind him and Diego commands that the dog do yet another task in the language I don't quite understand. Diablo listens, staring at me as he plops on the carpet outside of my door.

"Uh, Diego?" I start, earning a noise in response. "Can you keep him in your room at night? I don't want anything to happen when I go to the bathroom..."

"Yeah," Diego responds, sounding amused. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

My face reddens a bit when I realize that he was the only one that could control the dog, thus being the only one that can keep me safe from him. "Thanks..." I mumble quietly as I look down at the binder in my lap.

"Are you blushing?" he asks in amusement. Of course he'd be the one to have to point it out.

"From embarrassment," I reply as I flip through the pages of my binder, urging for him to leave. I just feel my face getting warmer and warmer.

"Like I said before...you're a really bad liar," he responds as he grabs my doorknob, slowly moving to close the door. He suddenly stops. "Are you going to come to dinner?"

"If you put that dog away," I mumble and he laughs.

"I will," he tells me. "So you're going to eat with us?"

"Yeah," I reply with a sigh. "I guess."

Not even twenty minutes later, my mom calls for dinner from the bottom of the stairs and I know my dad is home. I look at my phone, reading that it's 9:38, which is a little late for dinner. When I go downstairs, I hear my brothers telling my dad all about the incident with the dog. My father is chuckling quietly at their dramatized commentary. Diego is typing away on his phone and I realize that he's probably making plans to sneak out later.

"Sit, sit," my mom insists and I pull out a chair. Benji sits on one side of me and Diego sits on the other. My parents and Nate sit opposite to us. Calum sits at the random fold-able chair we got from the garage upon learning about our new house guest.

After helping ourselves to the food put out on the table, my father starts a conversation. "So, I hear Diego's dog has taken a liking to you, Ri?" my father asks in a tone of amusement.

I let out a scoff as I move the food around on my plate. Mashed potatoes, steak, and green beans - all foods I don't like. However, they're all my father's and brother's favorites. I guess this is what happens when you opt out of eating with your family for a week; they stop making foods you like. "I guess..."

"I think he has a crush on her," Diego speaks and everyone at the table looks a bit surprised. I'm guessing he's never been vocal at the last few dinners.

"Shut up," I mumble in response as I eat a green bean. I don't have much of an appetite; all I want to do is finish my schoolwork. I only have five more questions on my AP Calculus homework sheet, a source analysis for a primary source in AP U.S. History, a packet for AP Stats, a worksheet on the periodic table for Chemistry, and a paper for psychology. I think I can complete all of my AP work tonight and do the rest of my homework tomorrow morning before work, and then I can read when I get home.

"How was work today, Diego?" my father asks the boy to my right.

"It was fine," he lies and it comes out smoothly, as if he rehearsed it, as if not only three and a half hours ago he'd not been ranting to me about how horrible of a job it was. For some reason, I feel special that he told me his honest opinions. But then I realize that it'd probably upset my parents for him to be so discontent with the job they encouraged him to get.

"Do you like it?" my mom asks curiously, furrowing her light eyebrows. Her blonde hair was obviously passed on to all of her children. My brothers, however, inherited my fathers curls while I was left with my lifeless, straight tresses. All of us, however, have brown eyes, all similar in size. My father is the only one with eyes that aren't saucer sized.

"Yeah, it's fun," he lies again and I want to ask him what happened in the last two hours before his shift ended that made it so much fun, but resist the urge to do so. We make eye contact for a split second before I  avert my gaze.

I let out a quiet sigh as I mentally assess Diego. According to Diana, he's what one would consider man candy. I wouldn't exactly call him a man because he's probably 16 or 17, 18 at the oldest. I haven't bothered to ask him his age. But I can't deny that he is what I'd consider to be candy. Not only is he attractive (Diana used the word 'hot'), but he's mysterious. He's the type of guy I read about in the fifty something romance novels stacked high on the bookshelf in my room. I suddenly wonder if he thinks I'm cute...at all. I mean, he kind of, sort of, complimented me that one time but maybe I was overthinking it. I tend to do that.

"Orion!" my father says and by the tone of his voice, I'm guessing he's repeated himself maybe once or twice. As I leave the sanctuary of my mind, I notice that everyone at the table has their gaze on me.

"Yes?" I ask, growing red in the face.

"What were you so lost in thought about?" Nate asks and I look at my plate, feeling embarrassment wash over me.

"Nothing, my schoolwork," I lie and I knew that had we not been at the table, Diego would've called me out on it. Instead, he nudges my foot with his and pretends to cough to cover up his laughter.

"How are your classes going?" my mom asks.

"Good, I'm just a little behind is all," I admit.

"You better catch up," my father says in a stern voice. He doesn't really kid about school. In his eyes, school is the only way to be successful, though he enforces the rule upon me more than my brothers. Maybe it's because he wants them to become police officers and me to become a lawyer or doctor. "You can't afford to fall behind."

"I know," I mumble.

"Your father's right. If your grades start to slip, you're going to have to quit your job at the bookstore," my mom reminds me yet again. I want to sigh. Then I'll never see Diana. "School's more important."

"I know," I repeat, feeling embarrassed that Diego has to hear my parents rant at me about the importance of school.

"How behind are you?" my mom questions and I begin listing my homework assignments off to her. Diego practically cringes from beside me and I know he's probably saying obscenities in his head.

"I should be finished before work tomorrow," I tell my mom as I push around my food.

"What do you even need a job for?" Benji blurts. "It's not like you spend the money anyway."

"She's saving for college," Nate replies in a matter-of-fact voice.

"That's right. You ought to learn a thing or two from your sister. She's got her head on right. She doesn't waste her money on video games," my father notes as he shoots a glare at Calum, who shrugs as if my father's insult doesn't bother him.

"Maybe next year you'll be valedictorian," my mom pipes and I feel my stomach clench at the expectations my parents keep setting for me. Be a good role model for your brothers. Get good grades. Be valedictorian. Get into a good college. Keep your job. Where are my brother's expectations? All they're expected to do is go to school everyday, bring home decent grades, and pursue higher education. Calum flunked Spanish twice yet he's still alive. If I get so much as a B, I'd have everything ripped from beneath me.

I push my plate away and look at my mom and dad. "Can I be excused? I want to finish up some homework before I go to bed."

"Yes, of course," my mother approves and my father nods, so I shove my chair back, duck my head, and head towards the steps, disappearing into the second floor as I hold my stomach, which is full of nerves.

+++

A knock sounds on my door at a little past eleven and I call for whoever it is to come in. Diego pushes open the door and steps inside, making sure to leave the door halfway open. I could tell that he's recently gotten out of the shower by his damp, messy hair. Stepping further into my room, he spins my desk chair around and sits with his chest pressing against the back of the seat, resting his arms on the top of it. He places his chin on his forearms as he sways from side to side. Coming to a stop, he acknowledges my work in my hands and sighs. "I see why you never come to dinner."

"Yeah," I mumble as I tap my pencil along the side of my binder. My eyes are begging to close but I've only finished my AP Calculus homework. I'm barely halfway through with my AP Stats and my brain feels fried, yet I still have an entire primary source analysis paper for my AP US History and all of my other homework for my regular classes. "Why are you all ready for bed?"

I decide that because of the comment I'd made, I'm technically allowed to assess his clothing without it being considered checking him out. He's wearing black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. It's nothing special but he still manages to make it look great. I avert my gaze back to my work and he sighs as he stares at me, not bothering to look away despite the fact that I had set my eyes on my work. "I'm too tired to go anywhere."

"Work took that much out of you?" I ask and he nods with his eyes closed. I take the time to stare at his facial features- his straight nose, his long lashes, his neat brows, his plump lips. His face is so nice that it makes me wonder what he looked like when he was younger. I hope he was an ugly kid. Only then would it be okay for him to look as good as he does now.

"Now I see why you don't have much of a social life," he murmurs as a grin makes its way across his face, baring his white, straight teeth. He opens one eye as he looks at me and I quietly chuckle and shake my head.

"And because of all this work," I mumble.

"You look exhausted," he notes and I rub my eyes.

"I am," I admit. "All I want to do is sleep."

"Then do it," he responds and I shake my head as I yawn.

"I can't," I answer. "I still have to get through this and another assignment."

"Do it tomorrow," he responds. "Wake up early and do it before work."

I sigh and stare at the papers in my lap. I don't feel like calculating anything or writing anything anymore. The words are jumbled anyway and it doesn't make any sense. I shove the work off of my lap and place it on the ground, which gets a smile from Diego. I yawn and watch as he gets up from my desk chair.

"Goodnight, Orion," he responds as he heads towards my door.

"Goodnight, Diego," I reply. "Make sure Diablo doesn't escape."

He looks at me and grins while rubbing his eyes. "I'll be sure to keep him from getting out."

+++

I wake up at noon. I wake up at noon. I wake up at noon. Shall I say it again? I wake up at noon! I intended on waking up at 7 in order to complete all of my homework but instead, I wake up at twelve, only an hour and a half before I have to get ready and leave for work. Rather than waking up and eating a nice breakfast (well technically lunch now) like I planned, I lift my binder from it's place on the ground and begin working, struggling to complete my homework and hating myself for procrastinating so much.

It isn't until 1:35 that my brother comes into my room asking if I'm ready. I have to put down my binder and rush to get ready. Diego, Calum, and I leave the house at 1:50 and make it to the plaza at 1:58, leaving me two minutes to clock in. Diego follows me into the book store, seeing as his shift doesn't start until 2:30. As we enter the store, he looks at me curiously. "What's wrong with you?" he asks.

"I overslept!" I explain, running my hand through my hair. I didn't have time to grab a hair tie so I'm forced to leave it down. "I set a timer for seven o'clock!"

"I know," he responds. I glance at him as he leans against the counter. Behind him, I see Diana, who already started stocking books, and I wave.

"How?" I ask as I stand behind the register with one of my older coworkers.

"Because it woke me up," he responds and when I give him a blank stare, he shrugs. "I'm a light sleeper."

"And you didn't think to maybe come into my room and get me up?" I ask, earning another shrug.

"I did go into your room," he starts, "but only to turn off the alarm. You were dead asleep and I mean, you obviously needed it, so I wasn't going to be the one to wake you up."

My face was red at the idea of him walking in on me while I was sleeping. What if I snore? Or what if I had my mouth open? I inaudibly gasp. It was hot last night so I took off my pants! What if he saw me?! "Why-you-what-why?" I stumble over my words and he stares at me with furrowed eyebrows.

"If you're worried about me seeing something I shouldn't have, don't worry, you were covered by the blankets," he responds and my cheeks burn as I stare at the counter, rubbing my face nervously. "But you snore." My eyes widen as I look at him and he laughs, shaking his head. "I'm joking. But you look even more innocent when you're sleeping than you do when you're awake."

"Why were you looking at me when I was sleeping?" I ask and he rolls his eyes at me.

"Who's that on the lock screen of your phone?" he asks and I glance down, looking at my lock screen. A shirtless picture of some model I saw on Tumblr pops up and I chuckle quietly and nod. I admire his abs before placing my phone back in my pocket.

"I wish I knew," I mumble. He stares at me with a wrinkled nose. "What's your lock screen?" He shows me his phone and I roll my eyes. It is a simple picture of Diablo wearing a Christmas hat. I snort and he shrugs. "What about your background?"

He laughs and shakes his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Don't worry about it," he remarks, offering a wink and I immediately avert my gaze, pretending I hadn't noticed it. He chuckles just as my stomach roars like a lion. I pray he doesn't acknowledge it but of course, give it to him to point everything out. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Last night," I mumble.

"You had two green beans," he responds. "When was the last time you had a real meal?" he asks, earning a shrug in response.

"I don't have time to eat right now, do I?" I asked him as a customer approaches the counter. "Get to work. Can't have you late on your second day."

He removes himself from his spot on the counter and narrows his eyes at me. "I have ten minutes," he replies before heading out of the store.

I ring up the customer, take his money, and put it in the register. Once the transaction is done and the customer is satisfied, I sigh and rub my stomach. I wonder if Diana's has any food. Just as I'm about to ask her, the bell signaling a customer rings and I want to sigh. I turn around to see Diego approaching me with a bag and a drink in his hand. He places them on the counter and I glance at the time. 2:32. "You're late for work," I inform him.

"Calm down, she told me I could run this over here," he responds as he slides the items across the counter. I look at him and he nods at the brown paper bag and the drink. "I don't really know what foods you like but I just assumed you like croissants because who doesn't?"

"This is for me?" I ask him and he nods. "Well how much was it? I'll pay you back." I reach for my bag tucked under the counter and he quickly rejects the offer.

"I don't want your money," he responds.

"But-," I start.

"Consider it a small thank you, you know, for getting me a job and helping me with my grades and stuff," he mumbles as he rubs his neck.

"Oh..." I trail. "Thank you."

"Whatever," he responds, turning his gaze to the floor, kicking at the tiles uncomfortably.

"You should get back to work now," I tell him. "Before Sue fires you."

"I'll see you on your break," he responds as he ducks his head and leaves the book store. I immediately rip open the bag and bite into the croissant, sighing in delight as the buttery treat fills my mouth.

"He brought you this?" Diana asks, earning a nod in response. I was too busy devouring the delicacy to bother with being vocal. "How cute!" I notice her switching out carts. She's much better at shelving than me, probably because she's not a big fan of reading so she can't be bothered with looking at the books.

"Don't let him hear you saying that," I tell her as I finish my croissant. I wish I had another one. I go to crumple up the bag when I see, tucked beneath a napkin, a sight that makes me grin. Another croissant! I rip it from the bag and shove half of it in my mouth.

"He doesn't like being called cute?" she asks.

"I don't think he likes receiving positive comments at all," I tell her. "He doesn't mind giving them but he's awkward when receiving. I thanked him for the food and he got so uncomfortable."

"Maybe he just doesn't receive praise often," my friend notes.

"Yeah," I mumble as I finish the croissant. Feeling full, I wipe my mouth with the napkin as I crumple up the bag, tossing it in the trash. That was pretty sweet of him.

+++

When my break comes around, I excitedly take my bag and head towards the coffee shop. Even though I had hot chocolate only two hours ago, I feel the need to step in. Maybe it's to see Diego, or maybe I just want to get away from work. Either way, when I arrive in the warm atmosphere of the coffee shop, I sigh in delight and approach the counter.

"Medium hot cocoa please," I ask Diego, who accepts my money before grabbing a cup. 

"Yes, ma'am," he says with a sideways smile. Because I know the drill, I return to my seat and take out my book, which I left off at a good part in order to force myself to finish it. It isn't romance but it isn't exactly bad. It's just difficult to stay interested in it because there is nothing to giggle and coo about.

"What are you reading?" Diego asks a few moments later as he approaches my table with my drink. His eyes lock on the cover of my book. "That's a romance?"

"No..." I trail.

"You actually read things that aren't romance?" he asks curiously and I shrug.

"It's not all that good," I admit, watching as he sits down across from me. I mumble a quiet thank you for the hot cocoa and he thoroughly ignores me. He simply grabs the book from my hands and skims the back.

"What made you stray away from romance?" he questions as he hands it back to me. I put it down pages first to avoid losing my spot. In the chance that I did, I wouldn't bother looking for it again.

"I'm done reading romance," I confess and he quirks an eyebrow. I feel stupid as I roll my drink between my hands, allowing the warmth to transfer from the cup to my skin. "I promised myself I wouldn't read romance anymore until I found some romance in my own life." The embarrassment spreads like wildfire and soon enough my cheeks are red and my eyes are watering a bit. I blink rapidly a couple times as I sip my drink.

"And how's that working out for you?" he asks curiously and I shrug, unsure of what to say.

"I'm about to just give up and revert back to my old ways," I mumble.

"So soon?" he asks.

I give him a flat look before drinking my hot cocoa, trying to buy myself some time to think of something to say. "It's been a week..."

"And how many guys have you actually talked to?" he questions with a quirked brow. When I don't respond, he nods. "Exactly."

"But-," I start, only to get cut off.

"You never know- romance can be right in front of you," he responds with a smirk. He pushes his chair back, stands up, and grabs the silver disk he'd placed on the table.

"That sounds like something from a book," I mumble, unsure of what else to say.

"The romance books you can't read?" he asks.

"Get back to work, busboy," I retort as I grab my novel and narrow my eyes at him. One of his eyes shuts quickly as he grins at me and I suddenly realize that he winked. I turn my attention back to my book, not at all thinking about the words I'm reading. I'm too busy attempting to control the hotness of my cheeks. Had he meant him when he was talking about romance being right in front of me?

I risk a glance at him as he works behind the counter. His bushy eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as his hazel eyes fix themselves upon the machine he's tinkering with. His lips, which are a dark pink color, part and he sighs, perhaps mumbling a swear word. I can't really tell what he's muttering absentmindedly. His olive colored hand reaches out, brushing a few black strands from his forehead as he exhales heavily. I sip my hot cocoa, only to find that it was no longer hot. It's a lukewarm cocoa. However, my disappointment is disregarded as I look at the boy holding a cup of coffee in his hands with a small look of triumph on his face. Could it be him? Could he be the main male character in this romance novel that I'm writing for myself?