The 18th Shade Of Summer (Fractured Script Series #1)

CHAPTER 02

I almost folded it again. Almost slipped it back into my pocket but my fingers moved faster than my hesitation this time.

I peeled the note gently and stuck it just below the door's peephole. Smooth it once then stepped back.

Nothing happened, of course. The door didn't swing open. No voice behind it, no sound at all. Just me standing there like an idiot, heart thudding louder than it should've.

I turned and walked away before I could talk myself out of it.

By the time I reached the building's front steps, I felt the rain — light and almost nothing. Just enough to raise the smell of wet concrete and heat.

It wasn't far from the store. A few blocks. Past the closed bakery, the rusted fence near the empty lot, the old bus stop where someone had taped a missing cat poster three weeks ago that was still hanging by one corner.

It wasn't a beautiful walk until I reached the store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I walked in. The chill hit me right away.

Aisles lined with snacks, stacked bottles of water, pre-packed meals that always looked better in the pictures. Everything in its place.

Jiroh was already behind the counter, scanning through his phone. He looked up as the automatic door slid shut behind me.

"Yo," he said.

"Hey," I replied, pulling my hoodie sleeves over my hands.

He moved his bag under the counter to make space for mine. "You're never late."

"Neither are you," I said, offering the smallest smile. That was enough to make him smile back, like he hadn't expected it.

We both clocked in. The screen glowed, beeped. 6:00 PM. The shift had started.

I tied my hair back loosely and checked the register while Jiroh swept around the counter with that small blue broom the store never replaced. There wasn't much to do yet. No customers, no deliveries.

It was that silent stretch at the beginning of the shift when the sun was already fading but the store hadn't gotten busy yet.

He leaned the broom against the side wall. "So... random question."

I glanced at him. "Okay."

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

I paused. "Not really."

He nodded. "Cool. Me neither. Just thought I'd ask."

"...Why?"

He shrugged. "No reason. Just—sometimes I wonder if this place is haunted. Like, sometimes the freezer hums weird and the lights blink at the exact moment I make eye contact with someone."

"That just sounds like faulty wiring."

"Yeah, but faulty wiring that 'chooses' moments? That's cool"

I huffed a laugh. "You're weird."

He grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

I didn't answer but I didn't walk away either.

An hour passed. Two. We took turns on the register, then stacked ramen cups, then stood side by side watching the streetlight outside flicker every few seconds.

When there were no customers, we sat on opposite sides of the counter — not facing each other, but not ignoring each other either.

He tapped his fingers on the plastic lid of his coffee. "You're quiet."