or the rest of my notice period, I am on my best behavior. I don't want to be–I want to be petty and quit now, leaving the cafe a waitress down–but that won't hurt Jordan. All that will hurt is Kali and Lina and Layla and the cafe: everything I love.

So I continue to work my shifts with a smile, even though I'm miserable. Not just because I'm being fired, either, but because college is getting closer, and Lexi keeps talking about furniture and parties and visiting the mainland, and I don't want to do any of things; I just want to stay right here.

For the next few days, Jordan pops in and out during our quieter times to fix up the holes in the ceiling. Right now, he's standing on a ladder while he plasters up a hole, his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. If he wasn't the spawn of satan, I might think he looks handsome with his tanned, muscled arms working overtime. My mind might even drift to dangerous places, like imagining him shirtless.

"Puta," Lina says under her breath when she passes him, and he turns and looks not at her, but at me.

I pretend I don't notice him and head for my lunch break. It's warm outside but not unbearably so, so I sit out the back and stare at the street, committing it to memory.

It's not long before the chair opposite slides back. I glance up, tensing when I see its occupant is none other than the devil himself. I put down the rest of my sandwich and say, "Thanks, I've lost my appetite."

Jordan, unfazed, leans back in his chair. "You're a child, you know that?"

"Better a child than an asshole who goes around firing people."

He clenches his jaw, and I watch as the little muscles on either side contract. "You didn't exactly give me much choice. You think I'm going to be able to sell this place with you pulling that shit? I need you out the way. It's nothing personal."

He's wrong. This is personal. The Big Fish Cafe might not mean much to him, but it means everything to me. Watching him try to sell it, having him fire me, is most definitely personal.

"Did you want something?"

"Yeah," he says, leaning forward. He puts his forearms on the table, practically resting them on mine. "I'm showing some people around tonight. I want to make sure that you're not planning anything stupid again."

"Like what?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You think I'm going to give you ideas?"

I lean forward now. A girl could get lost in those stormy gray irises; I bet they're lining down the block back in Chicago. At least, until they realize he's a demon sent from hell.

"I haven't got anything planned," I say. "You can rest easy."

He gets to his feet. "With you around, not a chance."

I get to my own feet, acutely aware of how tall he is. He must fit right in on the streets of Chicago in his jeans and rough-around-the-edges city feel, but standing opposite me in this small, tropical, patio, he feels intimidating.

"You know, on second thought, maybe I do have something planned," I say, because even though I don't, he's pissing me off and I want to see him sweat.

He walks around the table until he's standing in front of me. He looks two seconds away from throwing me over his shoulder and dropping me at the bottom of the ocean. "Obviously, trying to reason with you was a mistake."

"No, your mistake was coming to this island," I say, "so why don't you do us all a favor and leave?"

"Once I sell my cafe, I will." His eyes burn down at me, the color of mist. I'd probably think them beautiful if they didn't belong to him.

"I fucking hate you," I say.

He cocks an eyebrow and stares at my lips; the look in his eyes is filthy. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"No," I say flatly. "My mother is dead."

There is barely a hair's breadth of space left between us. For about a second, his eyes soften, but then they return to looking like lightning amid a treacherous storm. And instead of being terrified, my heart does this strange, excited jump.

I swallow hard. "Look, just stay out of my way, Jordan."

His eyes briefly flit to my lips, then drop even lower. "Happy to oblige."

"Evvy, do you–"

We both jerk apart like we're doing something wrong and turn to the door, where Lina is standing with a tray in her hand, looking uncertain. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"

"No, you're not," I say, stepping away from Jordan, because it's hard to breathe when we're so close. He's one of those people that as soon as he walks in makes the room feel instantly smaller, or like there's somehow less oxygen to go around.

"The place is crazy busy right now," she says, still looking between us, "Kali asked if you could end your break early so there's more of us on the floor."

"It's fine," I say, refusing to look at Jordan, "I'm not hungry anymore, anyway," and then I follow her back into the cafe, where I can finally catch my breath.

Back in the swing of waitressing, I start to feel normal again. I've just finished filling up some coffee in the kitchen when Lina discreetly corners me, right in front of Layla. "What was that?" she asks, folding her arms. "It looked like you guys were on the verge of kissing back there."

Layla stops beheading fish to face us. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Lina says.

I give them both a look as if they've finally lost it. "Are you both insane? You think I'd kiss the boy who just got me fired from my job?"

"Hey," Lina says, "I'm just telling you what it looked like. Your gazes were so smoldering even I felt like joining in on the action."

I ignore her and get back to work. When the last customer finally leaves, I start to clean the place up. Most of the others have left already, leaving just Kali, Jordan, and me. When Kali gets a call from his wife about something or other being broken, he shoots me a sheepish look and asks if I'll clean the place up before closing.

Sighing, I say, "It's fine."

He nods, about to leave, before he thinks better of it and pulls me aside so that Jordan can't hear us. "No sabotaging, all right? Just let him do his thing and lock up after him, okay? We need to take the high road in this situation."

"I'll be on my best behavior," I say.

"Good." He ruffles my hair in an affectionate way, forcing me to duck. "See you tomorrow." As soon as he leaves, Jordan glances over. I ignore him and get to work cleaning up plates so that the place is sparkling for his buyers this evening. He does the same, gleefully ignoring me right back.

It's not long before a light pitter-patter of rain starts to drizzle down the windows. Jordan tenses but doesn't look up. "You think there's going to be a storm?"

"Not tonight. Rain should ease off in an hour. Worried your buyers won't make it?"

Whatever he's about to say is cut off by the rain pounding harder on the shutters. Jordan continues with his cleaning as if we'd never spoken and, feeling insulted, I get back to wiping the counters. I'm about to move onto a table when a drop of water landing on my forehead stops me in my tracks. Slowly, I look up, just as another drop splashes in my eye.

"Jesus," I say. "Not again."

"Hey," Jordan says, putting down his towel, "I'll do it."

I ignore him and grab some tape before hoisting myself onto the counter. I've barely lifted my hands to close up the hole when the ceiling tile caves and a gush of water pours out. My first instinct is to jump back, but I slip and lose my footing.

What happens next is like something from a movie. One second I'm falling, and the next Jordan is pulling me back into his arms. For about three seconds flat, all I can think about is how warm his hands feel as he cradles me close. My eyes meet his, and there's this second where neither of us speaks.

My heart is pounding. I have no idea why my heart is pounding, or why my skin feels like electricity all of a sudden. All I know is that inside of my chest is a storm so severe, so electric, that I'm frozen in place.

Jordan is, too. His eyes flit to mine as he slowly sets me down, and I take a big step back. He raises an eyebrow, looking behind me to the hole in the ceiling, where water is still dripping through.

"Shit," he says. He curses a few more times before getting out his phone and canceling his appointment with the buyers. He looks pissed as he speaks, but he manages to keep it together until he hangs up and takes in the hole again.

"There's nothing we can do about it now," I say. "Wait for it to dry out. Kali will fix it tomorrow – he has some special stuff he fills it with."

Running a hand down his jaw, Jordan sighs and grabs his jacket, slipping it on. I do the same, and we both head into the rain, which is back to being a light pitter-patter. We turn to each other briefly. His face looks so handsome under the dim glow of the streetlamp, softening his sharp, boyish features.

"You going to be all right riding in this?" he asks.

My heart does that thing again where it tries to jump through my chest. Horrified, I mentally list all the reasons I hate him, starting with him selling the cafe and ending with him firing me. Just like that, my heart returns to normal.

"I'll be fine," I say, unlocking my bike, and then with one last look, I ride as fast as I can back home.

❤️