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There was exactly one hour left of her shift, meaning it was time for Nobara to submit to despair for half a minute. She crouched down, sat back onto her haunches, tucked her head in between her knees, and groaned. It didn’t look or sound particularly attractive, but it was one in the morning at Taco Bell and she was hidden behind the cashier table. She really couldn’t care less.
She heard strangely soft footsteps approaching, and then a grunt of surprise and an awkward shuffle.
“What the hell,” she heard Yuuji say, sounding slightly bewildered. A toe nudged her in the ribs. She ignored it, until she registered that the toe was socked but not shoed.
Her head jerked up. “Are you not wearing shoes ?”
Sure enough, Yuuji had on his bright yellow, knee-high athletic socks, with his “fancy new color block rebound layup other basketball term blah blah” sneakers nowhere in sight.
Nobara was aghast. This floor was one of the nastiest things she had ever seen; just last week, a small dog had run in here and had explosive diarrhea which prompted several people to puke, including Nobara and including Yuuji, which meant he should know better.
Yuuji at least had the sense to look a tiny bit sheepish. Not nearly sheepish enough, in Nobara’s opinion. “Well, I kept spilling sauce on my nice shoes, so I figured—“
Nobara cut him off by shoving her palm in his face— or as close to his face as she could manage with her still in a crouch and him standing up. She heaved herself to her feet, blinking through a brief head rush, and then shoved her palm in his face again. “Please, shut up. I’m so disgusted right now I can’t even look at you.”
She whipped her head away for added emphasis.
“Okay, you’re being dramatic,” he said, pushing her hand away. “I’ll wash them after this, and they were already sweaty from basketball, so it’s not a big deal.”
Nobara sniffed and then instantly regretted it. The smell from said baseball sweat had reached her nostrils and the smell was so horrifically intense, she briefly wondered if she was going to pass out. She wobbled on her feet, leaning to the side until she could prop her hip on the counter, eyes fluttering shut.
Yuuji kicked her in the shin. “It’s not that bad, my god.”
“What the fuck is that smell,” Getou declared, emerging from the back with his hands on his hips and his nose scrunched.
“Nobara shat her pants,” Yuuji said immediately.
Nobara could only stare at him incredulously. Getou rolled his eyes, then slapped Yuuji on the back of his head.
“Go put shoes on before your stench poisons the meat,” Getou said, shooing Yuuji away.
“The meat’s already pois—“ The glare Nobara got from Getou was so strong, she decided to not finish the sentence.
Yuuji sulked off to wherever he had put his shoes, and Getou went back to do his managerly duties or whatever. Nobara and Yuuji had a sneaking suspicion that Getou actually owned a chain of Taco Bells, including this one, but chose not to talk about it in order to look a) humble or b) mysterious. Possibly c) all of the above. Their evidence was that Nobara had seen his hair products and accessories, and he was way too rich to simply be the manager of a single Taco Bell.
Nobara got back to manning the cashier, and more specifically, people-watching. Mostly people-judging. Maki would sometimes stop by and people-judge with her, but she had started coaching a middle school girls soccer team for her internship or whatever. Nobara didn’t know all the details, even though Maki had told her, but in her defense she had been distracted by the knowledge that Maki was ditching her to hang out with middle schoolers.
And Nobara couldn’t people-judge right now because Taco Bell was empty. Behind her, she heard Yuuji talking to the drive-through line, apparently back in shoes and back to work. She wandered back, deciding she might as well judge Yuuji’s forced cheerfulness. And maybe wrap a quesadilla or something if Getou appeared, just to try and look busy.
Yuuji had his little drive-through headset on and was smiling widely without his eyes, which was off-putting and creepy but valid.
“Just go ahead and pull up to the next window,” Yuuji said, then saw Nobara and mimed slitting his throat. Nobara nodded solemnly, then mimed pulling out a katana and sliced its tip across his Adam’s apple, effectively slitting his throat on his behalf. She flicked the nonexistent blood off her blade, then sheathed it gracefully. Yuuji let his head loll back for two seconds before shooting her a grateful smile and getting back to the laptop screen.
Nobara spotted Getou lurking near the back, probably judging them. He was a pretty nice boss, all things considered, because he hadn’t fired Nobara or Yuuji yet. But he did love to continuously bring up every single mishap and mistake they have ever made so that no one could never move on from it, that asshole, so Nobara quickly started putting together the order Yuuji had just taken to look like a hardworking employee.
She kept glancing at the front, praying someone would walk in and save her from this hardworking employee facade, but no one ever did. Guess this was why there were only three people on shift after midnight here. She usually just assumed Getou was just one of those cheap, stingy billionaires.
Nobara let Yuuji talk to the next customer in the drive-through while she handed off the finished order to the random college student nobody waiting at the next window. Yes, she was also a college student, but she was beautiful and intelligent and a member of the working class which meant that she was better.
She ambled back to Yuuji, still talking to the same customer and still smiling, but Nobara stumbled to a stop when she saw that the smile looked less like a smiling-to-make-my-voice-sound-like-I’m-smiling smile and more like a genuine smile .
Oh god. It had happened. Yuuji had lost the little brain he had to begin with and was now delusional enough to enjoy a late night/early morning conversation with a Taco Bell customer.
“I’m not judging you for being a shit cook, I’m just letting you know that I’m not,” Yuuji was saying, leaning back onto his palms and turning his back to the screen, both literally and figuratively turning his back on his job.
Nobara could still feel Getou staring at them, and half of her was pissed at Yuuji for slacking on the job. The other half of her was pissed at Yuuji for apparently finding a chance to have flirtatious banter on the job when she couldn’t even find a single girl her age walking in here during her shift that was both interested and not drunk off her ass. And no, Maki didn’t count because Maki very likely was not interested. And Nobara wasn’t either, no matter what Yuuji said about how in love she was. Because she wasn’t. At all. Obviously.
Yuuji grinned even wider at whatever the customer said, and Nobara watched in horror as he kept chatting. “I was just making small talk, so technically, you started this conversation. Hey, I’m allowed to make small talk. Yeah, I’ve done it before, you’re not that special. Mm-hm. I make great tips this way.”
Nobara snapped her fingers as loudly as she could in front of his face, and he looked up. She angrily mouthed what the hell do you think you’re doing you motherfucking slacker I can’t believe you’re holding up the line to giggle and lie out of your ass please tell me that’s your professor or something that you’re mooching for a good grade because this cannot possibly be worth Getou’s passive-aggressive wrath , but it was apparently mouthed too quickly for Yuuji to understand, because he only blinked blankly at her.
“Stop yapping,” she stage-whispered. She was fully aware that there wasn’t a line being held up behind this customer, but she did not care. She refused for Yuuji to find happiness before she did.
Yuuji flushed, then nodded and turned a bit to the right as if that would give him privacy for his farewell. “Sorry, I’m getting stage-whispered at, I gotta go. Pull around to the next window, yeah? I’ll be there, so if you wanna, you know, keep talking. Or whatever. Well, no need to be rude. Asshole. Yeah. Bye bye.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Nobara said.
“What?” Yuuji said defensively.
“Bye bye? Bye bye ?”
“I— I didn’t mean to say that, actually. It slipped out. Fuck. He’s gonna think I’m an idiot.” Yuuji scrubbed his face with his hands.
He . Well, at least that meant there wasn’t competition. If it was a hot girl, Nobara would have had no shame in swiping her out from under him. Especially if she had glasses.
Yuuji suddenly snapped to attention. “Wait, how do I look right now? He’s pulling up here soon, and I—“
Nobara shoved him aside, and he toppled to the floor just as a car approached the window.
Nobara wasn’t a jealous person. She just didn’t like the idea of Yuuji finding his soulmate in the drive-through line of a fucking Taco Bell, at least not until she did.
Okay, so maybe she was a little jealous. Sue her.
Also, she wanted to see if this guy was attractive, and of age, and not a serial killer who targeted idiotic college boys working at fast food restaurants.
The car pulled up to the window, and Nobara got a good look at the driver. He had a pale, symmetrical face and dark, disheveled hair, and there were bags under his eyes that screamed college student. Of age, check; attractive, check; but not a serial killer… she didn’t feel comfortable checking that off yet. He seemed less than happy to see her, and that was immediately a red flag. She was a delight.
“$13.57,” Nobara said with a grin.
The guy’s eyebrows furrowed, and now he was definitely frowning at her as he handed over his card.
Wait, now that he was frowning, he was starting to register in her brain as someone she actually knew.
“Hold on,” she said, taking the card and tapping it against her chin as she squinted at him. “I know you.”
“Can you just swipe the card,” he said, sounding annoyed.
Yuuji made some noises from under Nobara, but she placed her foot onto his back and held him down. She was pretty sure he could have overpowered her if he really wanted to, but she assumed the embarrassment from being seen getting up from the floor was enough to keep him down there.
“Well, you didn’t seem in a rush a few seconds ago,” Nobara said, tsking at him. His frown deepened. She used the corner of the card to scratch the top of her head. “Oh, wait a second, you’re in a class of mine, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care, please swipe the card.”
“Astronomy?”
“Swipe the card.”
“No, it’s human origins. We’re in human origins together, with Professor Becky.” Now that Nobara was thinking about it, he definitely sat directly in front of her in that class of only twenty people, but he was just so remarkably unmemorable. “Sorry that took me so long, you’re remarkably unmemorable.”
“Oh, right,” he said, smiling tightly. “You’re the girl that sits behind me and won’t shut the fuck up to poor Maki. I should have recognized your screeching voice.”
Nobara took one second to be curious about the Maki reference, and another second to be offended over the voice comment. She revisited the former feeling. “How do you know Maki’s name and not mine?”
“None of your business.”
For a single, horrified second, Nobara imagined they were dating. She felt Yuuji tense under her foot.
“She’s my cousin.”
Nobara visibly wilted in relief.
“Swipe the card.”
God, would he give it a rest. Nobara begrudgingly swiped his card and tossed it back to him.
“Oh, shit, okay,” he stammered as he caught it with both hands like he was killing a mosquito. “Just throw it, cool. And my order?”
“Ah, right.” Nobara looked down at Yuuji, who looked up helplessly. “Just give us a moment—“
“Here you go,” Getou said, suddenly appearing to reach out and hand the customer a bag.
“Thank y— Getou?”
“Fushiguro,” Getou said with a curt nod.
Nobara glanced between the two of them, extremely confused.
“Are you… usually here?” the customer— Fushiguro, apparently— asked slowly.
“Yeah,” Getou said, and despite how confused Nobara was feeling, he seemed to know exactly what Fushiguro was implying.
“And have you… seen Gojo around?”
Who the hell was Gojo?
“Goodbye, Fushiguro,” Getou said, and once Fushiguro had hesitantly grabbed the bag, he retracted his arm and left.
“Who the hell is Gojo?” Nobara asked immediately.
“The ever constant pain in my ass,” Fushiguro muttered, and then rolled his window up and drove away.
Yuuji quickly rolled out from under Nobara’s foot and scrambled to his feet. “Gojo?” he asked, staring at Getou’s retreating back. “Is there drama? I hope there’s drama.”
Nobara was equally intrigued. “I hope so. I hope it has to do with Richard.”
Suddenly, Yuuji whipped back around to face her. “So you know Fushiguro from class? What’s he like? And he’s cousins with Maki? This is, like, fate. Destiny.”
“Well, he’s super ugly, so watch out.”
“I saw him through the sensors, you liar.” Yuuji brushed crumbs out of his hair that had found their way in there during his time on the floor, and Nobara gagged.
“Whatever,” she said after she had recovered. “He’s out of your league.”
Yuuji groaned. “I know, but—“
From around Yuuji’s big head, Nobara spotted the doors swing open and flash of white.
“Oh my god, it’s Richard.”
Yuuji brightened. “The drama continues.”
“We don’t know if he’s part of the Gojo storyline.”
“Well, he could be.”
Richard readjusted his little black sunglasses, fluffed his white hair, and made himself comfortable at a booth in the corner, facing Nobara and Yuuji with his arms crossed. He nodded at them, and they nodded back.
He had been showing up every day for the past week between 1 and 2 am to sit in the same seat and not order a single thing. At first, Nobara and Yuuji had been rightfully terrified, but after enough times watching Richard reapply glossy chapstick and nod his head along to whatever was playing in his earbuds, the initial threat had subsided. But that was probably what creeps wanted to happen.
Although it seemed like Richard was waiting for something, and it had to do with being here when they closed. And judging from the way Getou had started slipping out the back door at the end of their shifts, Nobara and Yuuji were fairly confident that he was waiting for Getou. Getou had neither confirmed nor denied this. He was just really good at changing the subject and Yuuji and Nobara were easily sidetracked.
They also had no idea what Richard’s real name was, because they seriously doubted that it was Richard. They only called him that because it was the first name that Yuuji thought of— after Lawrence, but Nobara hadn’t wanted Jennifer Lawrence to be attached to that creep in any way— and after a week, it stuck.
The rest of the night went by with an incredible lack of anything interesting. Yuuji and Nobara made a few more orders, Getou disappeared into his office, and Richard sat there. When the clock hit two, Yuuji and Nobara started cleaning. Getou helped a tiny bit (out of sight from Richard, of course) then waved goodbye and left out the back.
Yuuji and Nobara closed, clocked out, and walked out behind Richard. They watched as he got into his sleek car, the one with the license plate that said 6FTDIVA, and drove away.
Nobara bumped her knuckles against Yuuji’s, then got into her own car. She was exhausted and needed to be under her feather comforter in her silk pajamas ASAP.
The next few days went by so insanely averagely that Nobara blacked out. Maki was busy with snot-nosed children, Yuuji was “patiently” waiting for Fushiguro to come through the drive-through again, Fushiguro was off doing anything but coming through the drive-through again, Getou was appearing sporadically to give random insults and/or compliments like an apparition with infuriatingly gorgeous hair, Richard was appearing punctually every night like an apparition with infuriatingly shiny lips, and so on.
Until the day Yuuji and Getou were in the back dealing with a pound of chopped lettuce coating a section of the floor (completely Yuuji’s fault) and Nobara was manning the counter. That was when Fushiguro walked in.
Nobara instantly brightened. Finally some excitement.
Fushiguro made his way to the front, red headphones clamped over his spikes of hair, and came to a stop in front of Nobara. He slid the headphones off to rest around his neck.
“Kugisaki,” he said lamely.
Nobara thought back to if she had ever introduced herself. “Stalker?”
“Maki told me.”
Nobara’s spine straightened. “Did she?”
Fushiguro eyed her suspiciously. “Ew.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Bitch.”
Fushiguro huffed. “Are you the only one here?”
Nobara leaned forward on her elbows. “Am I not the one you’re looking for?”
Fushiguro’s cheeks turned pink, which was hilarious. “I’m not looking for anyone in particular. I was just wondering.”
“Well, I guess Getou is here again, and Yuuji, and Lawrence.”
“Who’s Lawrence?” Fushiguro asked, way too casually.
“Yuuji’s boyfriend.”
Fushiguro’s face went carefully blank. “Right,” he said, like he had been bracing for this news all day. Oh my god, it was so depressing, Nobara actually felt bad .
“I’m kidding,” she said quickly, and then Fushiguro looked annoyed and Nobara wanted to retract her amendment.
“So does Lawrence not exist, or is he not Yuuji’s boyfriend?”
“Both, and are you gonna ask who Yuuji is?” Nobara asked. She bit back a grin at Getou’s voice loudly lecturing Yuuji on how much money they were losing per pound of lost lettuce, and why Yuuji had to start drying his hands after washing them before carrying any sort of metal container.
“I already…” Fushiguro seemed to sense he had taken a wrong turn. “I mean, who’s Yuuji?”
“Lawrence’s boyfriend.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Fushiguro said, throwing his head back and stomping in a small circle before retuning back to the cash register.
“You asked Maki who the guy I work with on the late shifts is, right?” Nobara said, immensely proud of her deduction skills.
“Maybe,” Fushiguro said, looking immensely embarrassed that Nobara had deduction skills.
“He’s busy. He’s single. He’s an idiot. He dropped lettuce.” Nobara ticked the things off her fingers. “Is he your type, you lettuce slut?”
Fushiguro reddened. “ What?”
“I say slut endearingly, obviously.”
“I’m leaving.”
Yuuji decided that was the moment to march up to the counter, head ducked while brushing dust off his sweatpants, and start bitching. “Getou made me pick up each little piece of lettuce one by one, and he knew yesterday was leg day so staying crouched for—“
Nobara really enjoyed the way his eyes widened and his voice faltered when he saw Fushiguro. She enjoyed Fushiguro’s face even more, who had apparently not seen what Yuuji looked like before right now.
Yuuji blinked, and then literally bodied his way to the cash register, sending Nobara stumbling to the side in the process. “Fushiguro, hey!”
Fushiguro seemed to snap back into his regular emo bitch mode. “Gordon Ramsey from the Taco Bell drive-through?”
“You remembered me,” Yuuji said with a grin.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I just remember your bragging.”
“All I said was that I could cook a solid meatball.”
“I can’t help but wonder why you were trying to talk me out of eating at your place of work.”
“I don’t get paid off individual sales.”
“You don’t sound confident on that.”
“I’m better at cooking than finances.”
“You mentioned that.”
Nobara wondered distantly how much they were able to talk about through a staticky drive-through speaker.
After sitting through a minute of back and forth, she decided to leave and go text Maki about how annoying her cousin was being. Maybe she would also mention calling him a lettuce slut in case Maki got a kick out of that.
Fushiguro left thirty minutes later, and then Nobara had to deal with Yuuji bouncing between talking about him and not talking about him in a way that made it seem like he would rather be talking about him.
It went on like that for the next two days: Fushiguro— who became Megumi to Yuuji and also to Nobara by association— showed up around midnight and left around 12:30 am, then Richard showed up at 1 am, and everyone left at 2 am.
It was too early in the morning for this shit in Nobara’s opinion.
Except the shit got a little more interesting when Megumi didn’t show up on time and Yuuji got antsy.
“Do you think he’s okay?” he asked as he knocked his knuckles against the front counter, watching the front door.
“I think his life doesn’t revolve around you and midnight Taco Bell runs,” Nobara answered.
“I should have gotten his number.”
“You don’t have his number? Your game sucks ass.”
“I kinda forgot?”
“You can always ask Maki, but that takes the fun out of the asking part. Also it’s a little stalkery.”
“You’re right.”
“I always am.”
Four customers, two Mexican pizzas, one Dorito Loco, two Baja Blast Freezes, and one Crunchwrap Supreme later, Megumi walked in at 12:45 am.
Yuuji was ecstatic. Megumi looked frazzled.
“Hey, sorry, I was studying and fell asleep and then missed my alarm,” Megumi said in a rush.
“Is everything okay?” Yuuji asked.
“You have an alarm?” Nobara asked.
Before Megumi could answer either question, the door swung open again, and Richard walked in.
Megumi was late, Richard was early, it was pure chaos.
What was even stranger was the way Richard saw Megumi, slid his sunglasses up into his hair— jesus those were blue eyes— and beamed. “Megumi?” he said.
Megumi had his shoulder drawn up to his ears. “Gojo.”
Yuuji and Nobara shared a wide-eyed, gobsmacked look. The Richard was the Gojo.
What made everything even better was when Getou walked out with a container of lettuce. “Now, Yuuji, I want you to see what it’s like to not drop—“ he stopped talking once he saw Richard— well, Gojo— and then he dropped the lettuce with a loud bang. Nobara hopped to the side to avoid the landslide of lettuce chunks.
Gojo’s face lit up. “Suguru.”
“Nope,” Getou said, and turned on his heel. “Yuuji, clean that up.”
“ What ?” Yuuji blurted.
“Kidding,” Getou said over his shoulder. “Give me a second.”
Gojo leaned his hands on the counter. “Can we talk?”
Getou didn’t answer.
Gojo sighed heavily, then looked over at Nobara and Yuuji. “I’m Gojo. Nice to meet you both.”
“Nice to meet you,” Nobara and Yuuji said in unison. Hearing former-Richard speak directly to them was a bit jarring of an experience.
“Suguru, can I at least explain to your underlings who I am?”
“ Underlings ?” Nobara echoed.
Getou didn’t answer, so Gojo seemed to take that as a yes. “Me and Suguru were real close in school, and then once he realized he was passionately in love with me, we pursued—“
“Okay, hold on,” Getou interrupted, yelling from the back of the kitchen. He stomped forward. “Don’t lie to my employees.”
“Sorry, I meant that he was always passionately in love but he only then realized he should do something about it—“
“Satoru…” Getou warned.
“And then he decided he was gonna go into business and move away and get rich and own a chain of Taco Bells—“
Yuuji and Nobara shared identical looks of called-it .
“—and then move back to my city without letting me know and without rekindling the magic we once had.”
“Magic?” Getou scoffed. “We were in high school.”
“And in college for a little while.”
“We have different goals.”
“We’re both rich and beautiful, goals achieved, the end.”
“I’m busy.”
“You throw yourself into your work.”
“Still means I’m busy.”
“We can be busy together.”
Nobara accidentally hummed out loud, losing herself in the drama, and had four pairs of eyes swivel to her. “Sorry,” she said. “Continue.”
Getou sighed, then turned on his heel. Gojo’s shoulders sagged.
“Come on, Satoru,” Getou said, and Gojo smiled. He quickly side-stepped the counter and jogged after Getou, and they both disappeared into the employee bathrooms.
It was the only spot to have a private conversation.
Nobara, Yuuji, and Megumi were left alone at the front counter, staring at each other.
“Did you know about them?” Yuuji asked Megumi, breaking the silence.
“Gojo told me all about it last week when he came back from his business trip,” Megumi said. “Apparently he tried to call and stuff while abroad, but Getou wasn’t answering, so Shoko— one of their friends or something— told him about how he was working as a manager here and then Gojo decided to be all romantic or something. I don’t know.”
“And how do you know Gojo?” Nobara asked.
“Long story,” Megumi said.
That wasn’t enough for Nobara, but Yuuji seemed satisfied plus she was still trying to eavesdrop on Getou and Gojo. Unfortunately, all that could be heard was a low rumbling of voices.
“Could I get your number?” Yuuji asked, and that left Megumi speechless for a few seconds before he started nodding quickly.
Nobara was watching them awkwardly exchange numbers when the front door opened and none other than Maki walked in. Nobara wondered for a second if she was dreaming.
“Hey, Nobara,” Maki said with a grin.
“ Maki ,” Nobara exhaled. “Thank god .”
A loud bang and a thud sounded from the employee bathrooms, and for a second, Nobara thought they had started fighting. Then she used context clues to come to the conclusion that they were not fighting, and they were probably going to either get back together or deal with weird tension until they nevertheless got back together. Whatever happened, they’d be together by the end of the week.
She had worked for Getou for a while (three months, so practically forever) and was starting to believe that every smile he had ever smiled before tonight had looked a tad bit forced. At least, they were in comparison to when he smiled at that Gojo guy— even when he wasn’t actually smiling, his eyes were smiling and everyone could tell.
It was like the way Megumi was smiling at Yuuji and Yuuji was smiling at Megumi. What saps.
“Anyway,” Nobara said, turning to Maki. “What are you doing here?”
Maki shrugged. “Practice for tomorrow got canceled, plus Gojo told me he saw Megumi head over here so he left a bit earlier than he usually does to run into him and that seemed like it was gonna be entertaining.” She glanced at the voices coming from the employee bathrooms. “But I’m thinking I missed it.”
“Oh, how I wish you had been here,” Nobara whined, dropping her head down onto the counter. “The drama , Maki, the drama .”
“I believe it, Gojo’s the most dramatic person I know.” Maki leaned in conspiratorially. “And I know this girl named Nobara, so let me tell you, that’s saying something.” She smirked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nobara said, waving her hand in the air and ignoring how hot her face felt. Maki was good at smirking, like, really good, and it had made a lot of people weak in the knees. Not Nobara, of course.
“I’m here, too, Maki,” Yuuji said with a stupid grin. “Are you gonna say hello to me?”
Maki shot him a bored look. “I don’t give a shit about you.”
“You give a shit about me?” Nobara meant for it to come off as a teasing remark, but she was genuinely touched and sounded embarrassingly heartfelt.
Maki stiffened, and— oh dear god— her cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. “I give more of a shit about you than Yuuji, so, you know, technically, yes.”
Megumi groaned. “Jesus.”
Maki glared at Megumi, then elbowed him in the ribs. He winced.
Nobara watched them interact and had a sudden gut feeling that a conversation had transpired between them as of late, and she was both excited and terrified by the possibility that she had been mentioned. And now her face was getting redder which meant that it was going to start getting splotchy which meant she needed to evacuate.
“Do you want a Baja Blast Freeze?” she asked Maki. “On Yuuji, of course.”
Maki grinned. “You know me so well.”
Nobara felt herself smiling a little too wide, but she turned around before anyone could notice. She made her way to the back, ignoring Yuuji’s complaints and Megumi’s snickers and any noises coming from the employee bathrooms, and got to work on Maki’s drink.
She realized absently that she hadn’t had a submit-to-despair moment in more than a week, what with all the drama and mystery going on. But now that Richard was revealed to be Gojo and Yuuji had Megumi’s number, she was going to need to find a new sort of entertainment.
Or she could be studying for finals or something… wait, no, that sounded disgusting. Unless, like, Maki was there. Hypothetically.
Maybe she would ask her later.
She finished the Baja Blast Freeze, then finally registered the incessant beeping sound and blinking sensor screen next to her. What the—
Oh. Shit. There were seven people in line for the drive-through, and they were all starting to drive away.
Well, whatever. She had priorities, and she didn’t get paid off individual sales.