Cora wasn't sure how she made it through the rest of her shift—literally, she couldn't remember. The last few hours had passed by in a blur, and Cora had turned off her mind as she went through the motions of taking orders, making drinks, and cleaning. After all, she was well aware that her emotions were her weakness, and the last thing she needed was for them to get in the way again.

Her awareness didn't return until someone snapped their fingers in front of her face.

"Huh?"

Only then did Cora realize she was standing in front of the condiment station, trying to squeeze sugar packets into an already overflowing container. If she had to admit, she was doing a fantastic job, though customers would likely struggle to take any sweeteners with how tightly everything was packed in.

Next to her, Darlene scoffed. "I have no idea where your head's at, but right now, it needs to be here, at work. We may be closed, but you're still on the clock."

Cora blinked at the box of sugar packets in her hand, then at the large food court clock. Sure enough, it was eight minutes past nine, and the only sounds around her were from clattering dishes and rushing water from neighboring restaurants.

"Start wiping things down," Darlene said, already walking towards the front of the baked goods display case with her clipboard. "You can't get overtime for working slowly."

"Sorry," Cora mumbled, scrambling to put away the box of sweeteners in the cupboard.

Her apology was either ignored or unheard.

As she rushed behind the counter, Cora couldn't help but wonder what had happened during her gap of memories. Did she make any mistakes? Did she not work efficiently enough? Was her customer service not up to standard?

Cora felt her eyes begin to burn as she wiped down the espresso machines, and she quickly blinked the tears away. She just had to endure it for a few more minutes. Then, she could let out the emotions that were fighting to break free, blurring her vision, restricting her breaths, pressing against her chest—

She looked towards Fruitastic. Cora didn't expect to see anything, but her gaze scanned the store anyway, searching for a destination that she wasn't aware of—until she found it.

Behind the smoothie shop counter, Farron's back was towards the rest of the food court as she mopped the floors. The short sleeves of her orange polo shirt were rolled up, showing the rest of her long dragon tattoo that was normally hidden, but she was too far away for Cora to make out the details. When Farron pushed against the mop, she seemed to do so with more force than before, so much so that her biceps flexed with exertion—or maybe Cora was so out of it that she was seeing things.

Before she could verify her hallucinations, Farron paused, stood up straight, then wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. The dragon moved with her motions.

Cora didn't know what expression she was wearing exactly, but as soon as Farron turned to face her, Cora felt her eyes grow wide and her mouth clamp shut. If Farron noticed, she didn't show it. Instead, she gave Cora a small smile before flashing a thumbs-up and tilting her head in a questioning manner.

While Cora wasn't completely sure what the wordless gesture meant, she still nodded with vigor that matched the energy of Farron's mopping before jumping back into her own cleaning. She was a little embarrassed that her chest warmed with the simple encouragement, but she was more self-conscious over her cheeks flushing with the memory of Farron's...

Cora froze, both physically and mentally, then spun around to focus on...the sink! She should clean the sink. The Bean Team should clean the sink more often, so now would be the perfect time to start. And if the task happened to hide her face from Far—the rest of the food court, then so be it.

Luckily, Cora managed to find her composure somewhere between the ice machine and the syrups, and by the time she clocked out and stepped out of the store's backdoor, her complexion had cooled to a normal temperature. Everything was fine. She was fine. She was cool. She was cool beans. The coolest of—

"Ready?"

While Cora managed to restrain herself from jumping at the sound of Farron's low voice, she couldn't stop her pulse from skyrocketing with that single word. Her resulting smile probably looked more like a grimace, but Cora tried her best to appear unperturbed as she turned.

Next to her, Farron had exchanged her bright orange polo for her customary fitted black shirt, and her short sleeves were no longer rolled up—not that Cora minded, of course. In fact, Cora was so indifferent that she pulled her gaze higher, then found herself staring at Farron's soft eyes and warm smile.

As expected, the sight did nothing to calm Cora's racing heart. Worse yet, Cora had agreed to wait at the bus stop together, which would be for an indeterminate amount of time, thanks to the sporadic schedule of public transportation.

She could see it now: the night was either going to end with mild embarrassment or severe humiliation.

After a few seconds, Farron frowned. "Cora? You okay?"

"Fine," Cora said, then coughed when her voice was higher in pitch than she intended. "Uh...bus."

Thankfully, Farron didn't make fun of Cora's sudden inability to form complete sentences, and instead let her smile return.

"Let's bus' out of here," she said, just before winking.

Any annoyance Cora had over the arguably good pun was smothered by the heat returning to her cheeks, and she rushed to the exit before Farron could notice.

Outside, the cool night air helped brush away some of the warmth on her face, and any remaining pink would hopefully be hidden by the darkness. With that reassurance, Cora began to relax—until another thought hit her.

The parking lot looked different than it did nine hours ago, and it wasn't just because it had gone from day to night. She had walked into work ready to prove her worth, only to leave more defeated than ever. Even though Cora had managed to shove the truth from her mind for the last few minutes, the evidence was clear: maybe she wasn't as capable as she thought.

Cora blinked her burning eyes, hoping to stave the tears off until her bus arrived. But when she turned to see if Farron noticed, the woman was nowhere in sight.

Until the mall's glass doors slid open, and Farron was nearly jogging through them.

"Not all of us have long legs, coffee cake," Farron said between pants as she neared Cora. "Is this payback for beating you to work that one time?"

Cora winced. She hadn't realized she had been walking so fast. "Sorry."

Farron's smile faded for a split second, then returned in full force. "Don't worry about it. I skipped my last leg day anyway, so this makes up for it."

The walk across the empty parking lot was too quiet. Farron didn't seem to mind the silence as she easily kept up with Cora's slowed pace with her hands stuffed in the front pockets of her baggy jeans. In contrast, the lack of conversation made Cora uneasy, and it gave her more than enough freedom to be hyper aware of her own actions.

She tried to stuff her hands in her own front pockets, only to find they were too tight to fit more than a few fingers each. Instead, she latched onto her purse strap, then tensed when her elbow nearly grazed Farron's arm. When Cora realized her speed was picking up with her nerves, she shortened her strides, then noticed she was stepping in sync with Farron.

Just as Cora stumbled over her feet in a poor attempt to retime her pace, Farron stopped in her tracks.

"I'm fine," Cora mumbled as she quickly righted herself. But when her mind conjured an alternative scenario, one where Cora fell and Farron caught her with her muscular—regular-sized arms, Cora's voice was barely audible through her racing imagination.

It didn't seem like Farron heard her either, and when Cora finally gathered the courage to face her, the woman's wide eyes were fixed towards the street.

A boisterous chorus of laughter caused Cora's gaze to follow. In the distance, about six college-aged kids were hanging around the bus stop, some lounging on the bench while others loitered on the sidewalk. Each of them held a can of soda—or so it seemed, until Cora spotted a bottle of hard liquor peeking out from a plastic shopping bag on the cement.

Cora felt her heart sink as she began to plan alternate routes home. She could walk to an adjacent bus stop, but if the bus was running early, she could miss it entirely. Of course, she could always try to flag down the driver if she saw them in passing, but there was no guarantee they would stop for her, even if they recognized her in the darkness. Alternatively, she could wait for the next one—which would be at least another half hour, and the only thing Cora wanted to do was go home and release her pent-up frustrations over her terrible day.

"Damn kids," Farron muttered, narrowing her eyes at the delinquents.

Cora must have been more out of it than she realized, because she couldn't keep herself from blurting out her instinctive question: "Kids?"

Sure, Cora considered them kids as well, and she figured Farron was about the same age as her, but she didn't expect to be verbally reminded about how old she was.

Farron turned her narrowed eyes towards Cora, accompanied by an unamused frown. "How old do you think I am?"

Cora froze. Was she supposed to guess younger and potentially say Farron looked like a child, or older and imply Farron looked, well, old? She had already made one too many mistakes that day, and she was hoping to make it home without another thing to regret.

Thankfully, Cora's dilemma was solved when Farron grinned.

"I'm twenty-seven," she said, then nodded at the intoxicated students. "That makes them kids."

"Oh." Then, after a pause, "Uh...I'm twenty-eight."

When Farron's eyebrows rose, Cora had no idea if that was a good or bad reaction. For all she knew, it was both.

"Well, aren't I lucky," Farron said. "I'm learning so many new things about you today."

Farron turned back to the street, thankfully not noticing Cora's widening eyes. "Anyway, wait here."

She stepped towards the delinquents, then stopped. After a moment, Cora realized it was because she was holding Farron back by her arm. And Cora's hand could only wrap halfway around Farron's toned bicep.

Huh. It felt firmer than Cora expected. What would happen if she squeezed it...

"Sorry!" Cora squeaked—yes, actually squeaked—as she released Farron's mus—arm! Farron's completely normal, non-muscular arm. "I mean... What are you doing?"

For a few seconds, Farron stared at her, motionless, before jabbing a thumb towards the road. "I was going to talk to them and get them to move."

Cora glanced at Farron, then at the six larger students...then back at Farron, just to make sure the woman was actually smaller. Even though her muscles spoke for themselves.

"You really think talking is going to work?" Cora asked.

Farron thought for a second, then shrugged. "Probably not. Worst case scenario, I'll arm wrestle them. Nothing hurts a fragile ego more than being out-muscled by someone who's five-two."

Cora certainly wouldn't mind being out-muscled by—nope, not the time.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Cora asked, hoping her mind would focus on the imminent danger instead of...other things. "What if they want to, I don't know, fight?"

"Then I run. I need to work on my cardio anyway."

"Farron—!" Cora began, then huffed as she scanned their surroundings for a better idea.

She was surprised when she actually saw one; she was more surprised when she seriously considered it. While it wasn't the most ideal plan, she didn't want Farron to get hurt or in trouble, especially for Cora's sake. It wouldn't be for long either, just a quick ride on—with Farron.

"Can I get a ride with you?" Cora blurted out.

Cora hadn't expected Farron's wide eyes and parted lips to summarize exactly how Cora felt, and if the bold Farron was flustered, then Cora should definitely be embarrassed.

"Huh?" Farron said, but it sounded less like an actual word and more like an incoherent noise that escaped in her shock.

"Huh?" Cora said, as if she didn't know the question she just asked.

"My...bike?" Farron asked, glancing towards the mall doors before turning back to Cora. "I mean, sure—"

"You don't have to," Cora said, her mind racing for an escape from the situation she just walked into. "You've done enough for me today anyway. I'm actually fine here. Yeah, I'll just stay here—right here. That's a good plan. I like that."

"Cora," Farron said, her composure seemingly regained. "It's fine. I can give you a ride, no problem, as long as you're fine with it."

"I mean..." Cora's eyes darted around the empty parking lot as if another solution would materialize out of the shadows. None did, but she may have spotted a raccoon by the dumpsters. "Isn't it dangerous?"

Farron shrugged. "The way some people drive can be dangerous, yeah. But I'll drive carefully."

Even if she had never seen Farron's driving abilities, Cora somehow trusted Farron's word. But before she could accept, her mind ran through the chain of events: she would be sitting directly behind Farron, their bodies would be touching, and they would have to stay like that until they arrived at Cora's place. That's right. They would be going to Cora's building, into her parking lot, to her apartment, and then...

"And...and then what?" Cora asked.

If Farron had the same concerns as Cora, she didn't seem perturbed as she furrowed her brows in confusion. "What do you mean? And then I'll take you home. And we won't have to deal with rowdy college kids."

So Farron definitely wasn't thinking about the same thing as Cora. And there was no way Cora would admit the alternative outcome she was imagining.

"I mean...don't you have your own stuff to do?" Cora asked instead. "I don't want to cause you too much trouble."

Farron sighed, but her slight smile assured Cora she wasn't annoyed—not entirely, at least. "What if I told you I didn't have any plans, and that I like to live spontaneously?"

Then Cora would think that was a chaotic way to live, but she wasn't going to say that out loud.

But maybe that was the reason Cora's life was stagnant. Maybe there was a reason Farron was a year younger and already an assistant manager while Cora was doing the same job she was stuck with for the past eight years. Maybe she was due for a change.

She glanced towards the mall doors where Farron's bike was illuminated by the parking lot lights. Cora had never ridden a motorcycle before. Even if she had the chance, she was too afraid to seek the opportunity herself. But at the thought of the wind rushing through her hair, whisking away her frustrations of the day and replacing them with exhilaration, maybe that was exactly what she needed.

Sure, her parents would be furious. But she had already messed up earlier in the day. What difference would one more rebellion make?

Before she could come up with another excuse, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

"Hey, ladies!" one of the college kids yelled, their slurred words echoing through the empty parking lot. "Wanna join us?"

With that offer, Cora's decision was made.

"As long as you go under the speed limit," Cora muttered to Farron, her hands tightening around her purse strap. "And no sharp turns or wheelies or anything like that."

At first, Cora was confused by Farron's wide-eyed silence, until she realized the woman couldn't have heard Cora's decision-making process. Before Cora could summarize her reasoning, Farron beamed.

"One home delivery, coming right up."