By the time Jason reached the counter, he’d already made peace with the fact that his wallet was about to take another hit.
The burgers were reasonable. The drinks were reasonable. The extra drink he’d decided to get for himself was where things started tipping into less reasonable but at this point he was apparently a man of terrible financial decisions and excellent timing, so consistency demanded he stay the course.
"That’ll be seventy-three ten," the cashier said, and Jason’s soul left his body for exactly half a second, took one look back, and asked if this was really the plan.
A week ago he’d have laughed at the idea of casually dropping seventy-three dollars on lunch. Now?
The rebate has worked once already. That changes things. A little. Maybe. Hopefully and if it doesn’t, at least I’ll have died the way I lived, making terrible decisions with excellent posture.
He handed over his card and didn’t bother holding his breath this time. The payment cleared with its usual polite chime, and he stood there radiating the calm of a man who had, against all reasonable odds, developed a system.
TRANSACTION COMPLETE
Purchase Amount: $73.10
Rebate Multiplier: 1.25x
Rebate Issued: $91.38
Net Gain: $18.28
Account Balance: $168.43
Eighteen dollars and twenty-eight cents. $12 left to avoid giving Max a kidney as payment
He allowed himself exactly one internal fist pump before remembering he was in public holding two burger combos and a latte, and fist-pumping over fast food was the kind of thing that got a person quietly added to a watch list somewhere.
He carried the tray outside. Sarah was still at the table, head bent over her phone, thumb moving fast enough that whatever she was texting had clearly mattered a second ago until she spotted him coming and the phone vanished into her bag like it had never existed.
Interesting
He filed that away without comment, because some mysteries were better left alone, especially the kind that made his ears go warm if he thought about them too directly.
He set her burger and her drink down in front of her, keeping his own on his side like he hadn’t just spent a small fortune being thoughtful about it.
Her whole face opened up
"You actually got it."
"That’s generally how buying food works."
"No, I mean—!" She lifted the cup, looking at it like it had personally proven something.
"You remembered."
Ah. That
He’d nearly forgotten himself apparently his brain had chosen today, of all days, to retain exactly one useful piece of information.
"Yeah, well. You said you liked it."
She looked at him a second too long, then smiled not the polite one, the real one.
"That’s actually really sweet."
Attraction level: 25% — 27%
It increased again much less this time. So talking to her did more of an impression than spending. Note to self rather old Jason needs it more
Jason became very interested in his burger wrapper
"It’s a drink, Sarah."
"I know."
"People buy drinks every day."
"Okay."
"You’re making it sound like I rescued you from a burning building."
"You’re the one getting defensive."
"I’m not defensive. I’m explaining."
"You’re explaining very defensively."
"I’ve made a mistake," he said, to the burger, not to her.
"Definitely," she agreed, far too pleased with herself, and took a long, victorious sip of her latte.
"Just eat your food."
"Yes, sir."
For a while they ate without much talking not the uncomfortable kind of quiet, just the kind that happens when two people haven’t yet figured out how much silence they’re allowed to share.
Sarah broke it first
"So. What’s your favorite food?"
"Why do you ask a question like that’s a normal opener."
"Why do you answer every question with another question?"
"I don’t."
"You just did."
"That was a reasonable follow-up."
"Fine. Favorite food."
"Rice."
"That’s it? Rice isn’t a favorite food, rice is—!"
"Food?"
"That’s not what I meant."
"Then you should’ve asked a better question."
She laughed, and he let himself have a small smile about it. "Okay. What kind of rice?"
"Now we’re getting somewhere. Jollof."
"Ah."
"What’s with that reaction?"
"Nothing. Didn’t peg you as a jollof person."
"What does a jollof person look like?"
"I don’t know."
"Exactly."
She laughed again, easy and unguarded, and Jason found himself watching her a beat longer than the joke really justified. She seemed comfortable.
Not with the food, not with the café with him, like sitting across from him wasn’t something she had to think her way into. He wasn’t used to that. He looked back down at his burger before his brain could turn the observation into a whole production.
"Okay, but for real," she said, stealing one of his fries without asking, which he decided not to fight her on
"What’s the deal with your family? You never talk about them."
Jason chewed a little longer than the bite required, buying himself a second
"Not much of a deal. My mom’s a few hours out, we talk on Sundays, mostly about whether I’m eating vegetables. I’m an only child, so there’s no sibling to deflect the attention to. It’s just me, permanently in the spotlight of one very concerned woman."
"That sounds nice, actually."
"It has its moments. What about you?"
"Bigger mess." She said it lightly, but there was a small pause underneath it, the kind that told him this wasn’t a rehearsed line.
"Three siblings, parents split when I was twelve, and somehow I ended up being the one everyone calls when something’s wrong. Which is great, because I’m nineteen and I still don’t know what I’m doing with my own life, let alone anyone else’s."
"You seem like you know exactly what you’re doing."
"That’s competence under pressure. Not the same as having a plan." She smiled, but it carried a little weight underneath the kind he recognized, because he was fluent in smiling through things himself
"Anyway. That’s why the store job matters. It’s mine. Nobody needs anything from me there except correct change."
"I feel that."
"You don’t feel that. You’re in college."
"College is just a more expensive version of nobody needing anything from you, if you do it right."
That got a real laugh out of her, and Jason quietly decided that was possibly the best return he’d gotten all day and given the day he’d had, that was saying something.
From there it kept going.
"Okay, worst customer story," Sarah said, pointing a fry at him like she was cross-examining a witness.
"There’s this guy who comes in every single morning and orders a large coffee, then argues with me about the price. Every day. Same guy. Same price. Like maybe today’s the day inflation reverses itself just for him."
"Does he ever win?"
"He’s never once won. He still argues."
"That’s either the most stubborn man alive or performance art."
"I’ve genuinely stopped being able to tell." She took a sip of her latte, considering.
"What about you? Worst group project?"
"High school. Four of us, one project, and I was the only person who understood that a deadline is not a suggestion." He shook his head slowly, like the memory still personally offended him.
"I built the entire thing the night before. Alone. At one point I was googling how to cite myself."
"Did it work?"
"We got a B. I have never been more furious about a B in my life."
"That tracks." She grinned, then narrowed her eyes at him like she’d just remembered something important.
"Okay, real question. Pineapple on pizza."
Jason set his burger down like the topic deserved his full attention. "Absolutely not."
"Wrong."
"It’s fruit. On bread. With cheese. It’s a war crime."
"It’s sweet and savory, Jason. It’s balance."
"It’s wet pizza. There’s no version of that sentence that sounds appealing."
"You’ve clearly never had it done right."
"I’ve had it done at all. That was the mistake."