LINES CROSSED. (BWWM)

16

Amina

The diner was dragging today—slow, quiet, and weighed down by the hum of a flickering neon sign and the occasional clink of silverware. I stood behind the counter, arms folded, watching the few customers still seated as they sipped coffee or picked at half-eaten plates. The air felt thick with boredom.

"I don't know why they call me in for this shit," Jas groaned, pushing through the kitchen door with a dramatic sigh. She tossed her notepad onto the counter and leaned back like she had just survived a war.

"Tell me about it," I said, glancing around the near-empty diner. "This place is deader than my love life."

Jas smirked. "Love life? Please. You've got that little boo thang keeping you warm."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile pulling at my lips. "He's been good," I said, a little too dreamily, the morning's memories flashing behind my eyes.

"Girl out here reminiscing and everything," Jas laughed, clapping her hands together like she just witnessed a rom-com moment.

"Hey, hush." I giggled, nudging her playfully.

She leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "So when do I get to meet him?"

"It's not even like that, Jas," I said, deflecting. I tried to look busy, grabbing a damp cloth to wipe down the counter again.

"Mmhmm," she muttered, not buying it.

"You're trying to tell me just his dick got you smiling like this?" she said, raising a skeptical brow and giving me the side-eye.

I shrugged. "We're just... having fun."

"Mhmm. Having fun," she repeated, dragging out the words and kissing her teeth.

I turned back toward the customers, hoping to escape her knowing glare. "Besides, adding feelings would just make things complicated."

Jas didn't say anything at first. When I finally looked back at her, she was shaking her head slowly, arms crossed. "Even a fool like me can tell you're already way too in deep, baby girl."

I glanced down at my shoes, then back up at her, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

The door chimed and we both turned as a man in a navy suit stepped inside, a sleek black briefcase in one hand. He had a quiet presence, the kind that demanded attention without saying a word. His eyes scanned the diner with a faint frown, like he was already unimpressed.

"Oop. Who is tall, dark, and corporate?" Jas whispered, her tone full of mischief.

I stifled a laugh as he approached the counter. He was definitely attractive in a serious, broody kind of way. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. His hair was neatly styled, brushing the collar of his coat, and his deep green eyes looked both tired and intelligent.

"Hello," he greeted, voice low and smooth.

"How can I help you?" I smiled my best customer service smile, the one that masked boredom and exhaustion.

"Are you closing soon?" he asked, glancing back at the few lingering guests—a young couple sharing fries and an older woman nursing her third cup of coffee.

"Not for another three hours," I replied, checking the clock behind him.

"We're just a tad slow today," Jas added from beside me. He nodded, seeming to understand the unspoken vibe of a place running on fumes.

"Please, take a seat wherever you like," I offered, gesturing to the open booths.

"Thank you, ladies." He nodded politely and walked away, and Jas and I both watched to see whose section he would land in.