.

. You’d just finished wiping down the counter for the third time, because apparently that’s what you do when there’s literally nothing else to do, when the door swung open with its usual, slightly-too-loud creak. . .

. Of course.

.

. Sure enough, when you finally glanced up, there he was—leaning against the counter like he owned the place, all light brown waves and that stupidly charming grin. Behind him, Devon stood with his usual laid-back ease, backwards hat sitting comfortably on his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he watched the scene unfold like it was his favourite show. . .