(Adrian’s POV)

Closing shifts always feel completely different from opening ones.

The café finally quiets down after hours of nonstop noise, leaving behind the smell of coffee grounds, bleach wipes, and exhausted teenagers trying not to collapse.

The lights are dimmer now.

Chairs are flipped onto tables.

Jay is half-dead in the booth beside me.

We’re all sitting near the front windows counting tips while the last dishwasher cycle hums in the back.

Lia nudges Jay with her foot. “If you fall asleep in the booth again, I’m leaving you here.”

Jay yawns dramatically. “I’m awake.”

“You literally closed your eyes mid-sentence two minutes ago.”

“That was a reflective pause.”

“That was unconsciousness.”

Blake snorts from across the table while separating dollar bills into neat stacks.

I’m trying to count quarters without losing my mind.

Keyword: trying.

Jenna walks out from the back office carrying her helmet again, keys spinning around one finger.

“You four still alive?”

“Debatable,” Jay mumbles.

Jenna leans against the counter. “Your mom texted asking when you’re coming home.”

Jay doesn’t even look up. “Text her we’re closing.”

“You are closing.”

“Exactly.”

Lia reaches over and steals three dollars from his pile.

“Hey!”

“Tax.”

“That’s not how taxes work.”

“It is now.”

I shake my head quietly and finish stacking my tips into a small pile.

The bruise on my cheek still aches every time I move my face too much. Blake keeps glancing at it when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

Which is annoying.

Jenna notices too, obviously.

She notices everything.

“You four have tomorrow off, by the way,” she says casually.

The entire booth goes silent.

Blake looks up first. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

Jay nearly cries. “I’m free…”

“Don’t make it weird,” Lia says.

“I haven’t rested in centuries.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“Exactly. Ancient.”

Blake leans back against the booth. “So what are we supposed to do for lunch tomorrow?”

Jenna stares at him.

“You know,” he continues, “since we usually come here and accidentally sneak into shifts.”

“‘Accidentally,’” Lia repeats.

Jenna points at all of us. “Act like normal high schoolers for one day.”

Jay looks genuinely confused. “What does that even mean?”

“Go outside.”

“We do that.”

“Not for work.”

Blake gasps dramatically. “You want us to socialize naturally?”

“I want you to touch grass.”

I laugh quietly into my drink.

Jenna immediately points at me. “See? Adrian understands me.”

“I understand sleep,” I correct.

“Close enough.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that.

The kind that only happens when people are too tired to pretend to be anything other than themselves.

Outside, the streetlights reflect against the café windows. A few cars pass by now and then, headlights flashing across the empty tables.

It feels calm.

Finally.

“We could go out to eat tomorrow,” I say suddenly.

Everyone looks at me.

I instantly regret speaking.

But it’s too late now.

I clear my throat awkwardly. “I mean… if we leave right after fourth period, we could probably make it somewhere before fifth.”

Lia immediately starts calculating. “That gives us, like… fifty minutes.”

Jay nods seriously. “Enough time for food poisoning if we pick the wrong place.”

“That’s inspiring,” Blake says.

“So we’re down,” Lia decides.

Jay points at her. “You do realize you just volunteered us.”

“Yes.”

“And nobody argued.”

“Because we’re hungry people, Jay.”

“That’s fair.”

Blake glances toward me with a small smile.

“You planned this out already?”

“No.”

“You literally included timing.”

“…Maybe a little.”

His smile gets bigger.

I look away immediately.

Jenna notices.

Again.

Because apparently nothing escapes her.

“Well,” she says while grabbing her keys off the counter, “that sounds like a tomorrow problem.”

Jay groans as he stretches. “Can tomorrow not happen?”

“Nope,” Lia says. “School exists.”

“Tragic.”

Jenna points toward the front door. “All of you. Out. Go home. Rest.”

“Yes, Mom,” we say automatically.

She pauses.

Then smiles a little too proudly. “I raised you well.”

“You threatened a customer today,” Blake reminds her.

“And I’d do it again.”

“Iconic behavior,” Lia says.

Jenna throws a napkin at her.

We all start gathering our stuff after that.

Bags. Hoodies. Chargers.

I reach into my pocket automatically, fingers brushing against my apartment key.

Just checking.

Still there.

The small silver key catches the light for a second before I shove it back into my hoodie pocket.

Jay notices immediately.

“Still kind of crazy you moved out,” he says.

I shrug. “Not really.”

“And your parents were totally chill with it,” Lia adds.

“That part’s insane,” Blake says.

I lean back against the booth slightly. “They bought the apartment.”

All three of them stare at me.

Jay blinks slowly. “Adrian.”

“What?”

“That is the most rich-kid sentence you’ve ever said.”

I nearly choke. “I’m not rich.”

“You live alone at seventeen.”

“My parents said I should have more freedom.”

Lia raises an eyebrow. “Mine barely let me choose my own bedtime.”

“They just…” I shrug awkwardly. “Trust me, I guess.”

Blake’s been quiet this whole conversation.

Too quiet.

When I glance at him, he’s already looking at me.

Not in a weird way.

Just thoughtful.

Like he’s realizing something.

“You like living alone?” he asks softly.

The question catches me off guard a little.

I think about it honestly before answering.

“…Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Jay repeats.

“It gets quiet.”

Nobody jokes after that.

Because they know what I mean.

The café gets quiet too as everyone finishes packing up.

Jenna flicks off the remaining lights one by one.

“Alright,” she says. “Everybody home before I start charging rent.”

We all stand.

Blake grabs his jacket off the booth beside me.

Then casually says, “I’ll walk with Adrian.”

My stomach immediately betrays me.

Because it flips.

Hard.

Jay notices first.

His grin is instant.

“Oh my god,” he whispers dramatically to Lia.

“Don’t start,” I warn.

“We didn’t even say anything,” Lia says innocently.

“You were about to.”

“Correct.”

Blake looks completely unaware of the damage he causes just by existing.

“Ready?” he asks me.

I hate how easy my answer comes.

“Yeah.”