“Eleven-fifty, please. For the gas and drink.” He pulls out a twenty. “Oh, and I’m not keeping the change this time,” I say in a light joke to ease the tension between us. “Keep the change, Sweetness.” He’s called me that nickname again, and my stomach swarms with warmth. Definitely not mad at me. If he was, he wouldn’t have called me that, right? Unless I’m severely misjudging my social interactions. “No—” “I’ll make you keep the change whether you like it or not.” He makes a show of looking at my name tag by placing his hands on the counter and leaning forward. “Violet.” “I’d like to see you
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