He didn’t, though. He caught up at the door, and they fell into step halfway across the lobby. The security guard—Darren had never caught his name over the insane accent—waved to them, and Jayden waved back, which surprised Darren a little. For all the word vomit, he seemed kind of shy. Certainly he made no attempt at talking until they actually reached the Costa counter, and only then to protest when Darren got out his wallet and slapped Jayden’s hand away from his own.
“You can’t do that!”
“Watch me,” Darren said and handed over a twenty to the giggling barista. She glanced between them, went pink all over again, and rang up the order.
“Well…um…thanks, I guess.” Jayden was as red as she was. It was kind of attractive.
“You get Thursday’s.”
“Um, okay. I mean, you’ll be…you stay back on Thursdays too?”
“I do now,” Darren said and watched Jayden go even redder. It was definitely attractive, he decided.
“Do you…I wouldn’t have taken you for the espresso type,” Jayden said.