Moxie sent Axel a bouquet of pink, orange, and white flowers to celebrate the release of his album Sometimes I Hate Myself Too.

The album surprised her. Not that she thought he didn't have a great voice or wasn't talented. She appreciated the upbeat tempo yet honest and raw lyrics. She liked how personal everything felt, from the lyrics to the instrumentals to the production. Axel clearly grew up loving music and the way it made everything make sense, even when nothing else in the world seemed to. Moxie's favorite track was I Sing Songs When I'm Sad. Maverick's magical touch was unmistakable as well.

She had a handwritten note attached by a small carabiner that read On behalf of lesbians around the world, congrats on your new album. Music is a vulnerable place to exist. You should be proud.

Her brother nearly cried when he read it in the middle of the florist shop. She thought he was being so fucking dramatic about it. Almost as ridiculous as the florist for upcharging her to use the carabiner to attach her note. But neither Mick's reaction to the note, nor the florist's questionable pricing practices, were as absurd as Mick's gift to Axel for his album release.

"You bought him... furniture?" Moxie gaped.

Mick texted away, not bothering to look in her direction. "Don't worry. I'm coordinating with Cruella."

If he had been paying any smidge of attention to her instead of drooling over a straight man, he would have seen the way she reacted hearing Cruella's name. It was better that he didn't. Moxie didn't have to explain any more than she had when she first arrived back on the tour bus, which was all a load of bull to keep him at bay for the time being.

Moxie enjoyed Axel's new album on the ride over to the nearest coffee shop she could find that she had been assured by the local staff that tonight's venue wouldn't be too crowded. He probably would have gotten a kick knowing she listened to it for the first time while in Boston. Or he might have thrown up. Both were viable options.

She walked inside and joined the queue for overpriced coffee and a delectable overload of carbs. Coffee shops smelled heavenly, but while they excelled in ambiance, they often lacked a legible menu font. Moxie stood on her tippy toes to try and read the menu—as if she ordered anything besides her usual—but the pink buzz cut of the person standing in front of her kept getting in the way. She huffed in frustration, wanting to kick the person's grubby skateboard out of their sparkly purple-polished hand.

"Fucking hell—" she whispered under her breath before she was shoved forward by someone rushing through the front door.

The skateboard flew onto the ground with a loud snap drawing everyone's attention. Moxie might have a sold-out show later that night, but that didn't mean she liked being directly under the spotlight.

Especially when the person in front of her turned around. The worst part was that he didn't even look offended that she had inadvertently knocked down his skateboard. The recognition that registered on his face made her want to melt into the ground.

"Uh—hey."

Ritchie Mendoza looked a lot different under the morning sunlight. More human than when he stormed out of a house party. For a long time, he felt mythical. A vague fragment of Cruella's past that she insisted she wanted to leave behind, even though she couldn't let go of whatever demons were holding her back. As much as Moxie believed he might truly live only in headlines from her—Cruella's troubled past, it made sense that he proved to exist beyond those borders in the most random city she could have imagined.

"I'm.... I'm sorry." They must have mysteriously transported into the Twilight Zone because Moxie willingly and knowingly bent down to grab something from the ground for a man. She brushed her hands off on her pants after he took it from her, eyes searching for the nearest bathroom or bottle of hand sanitizer. "Good thing we haven't ordered yet."

Ritchie laughed, and Moxie pretended she didn't know who he was. "All good."

"I actually just—" Moxie glanced down at her wrist where there resided no watch for her to look at, so instead she looked like a fool. "Wow, I didn't realize what time it was. I need to head back to my—"

"Moxie, right?"

She froze. Turned back around and swallowed. "Yup. That's me."

He held out his hand. "It's nice to officially meet you."

"Right." So much for the fleeting thought that she could make a quick getaway. "Nice to officially meet you too... Ritchie."

Why did their names have to rhyme? Fucking hell.

"What are you doing in—oh, wait—" Ritchie snapped his fingers before picking up the skateboard. The silver star dangling from his ears swung back and forth from the sudden movement. "You have a show tonight, right?"

"Yeah, down at Roadrunner."

He smiled. "Nice. I've been there a few times. Terrible public transit but great sound."

"So I've heard." Moxie laughed. She shuffled her laptop case and notebook around. Either her fingers were shaking because of the lack of caffeine in her system, or because she couldn't get out of there fast enough. It had nothing to do with Ritchie Mendoza and everything to do with... Ritchie Mendoza. "Um... what are you doing here? Or, oh wait, you're here for the show tonight," she joked.

A pathetic attempt to lighten the mood, but that stormy cloud might have only been hovering over her head. Ritchie, for all of his surprise at seeing her there at a random coffee shop in Boston, appeared relatively unbothered. The line moved forward and instead of returning to their own little worlds, Ritchie kept up with her as if they had arrived at the shop together.

"Believe it or not, I actually go to school here. Almost done with the semester."

Moxie didn't mean to look so surprised, but he laughed at whatever expression was on her face. "Wait, are you serious?"

"I think so," he said with a slight smile.

"Don't tell me you go to MIT. Or... Harvard?"

Ritchie laughed. "I know we don't know anything about each other, but you're giving me way too much credit."

"I've been surprised by other MIT students before so—"

The barista called the next customer. Ritchie stepped up and rattled off his order before turning to Moxie. "You?"

"Huh—" Moxie shook her head. "No, it's fine. I can order my own."

"What are you getting?"

"Really, you don't need to—"

"Seriously—"

Moxie sighed before stepping forward to give her order. The barista nodded once before scribbling on the paper cup and handing it off to the next employee who started on the drinks. Ritchie instructed her to find an open table which only took a few seconds because most were available. She chose one near the large windows after convincing herself that she wasn't being stalked by some obsessive dude with a camera and a serious lack of privacy. Despite their connections to one Cruella Queen, paparazzi were more likely to stalk the blonde starlet before either of them.

Ritchie plopped the drink down in front of her a few minutes later. "There you go."

"You really didn't have to get me this." Moxie curled her fingers around the cup as a steady stream of steam kissed her lips. "Don't feel like you have to stay if you're busy or whatever. I just came to check out for a bit."

"No offense, but you looked like you were five seconds from passing out if you didn't get coffee in your system, so I think I did all of us a favor."

She couldn't even deny it.

"I actually do only have a couple of minutes." Ritchie briefly glanced down at his watch. "I'm supposed to meet up with someone. But how are you?"

Moxie wanted to laugh. He asked the question as if they were friends or even knew each other in the slightest. Clearly, they didn't bother pretending as if they weren't aware of each other's existence to some degree. She couldn't say she imagined this scenario of ever running into him. She had no chance to think of the different ways in which she might have acted. And yet, she understood that whatever she would have thought was probably wrong.

"Compared to last time we talked?" Moxie laughed.

He joined her, scratching the back of his neck. "Right. Well, you see someone's name and face enough, you start to feel like you know them."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

It wasn't like she was silly enough to believe that by that point, people hadn't caught on to what was going on between her and Cruella. After the drag show, social media more than alerted to their relationship. Not that they knew anything about it. Hell, Moxie didn't know exactly what their relationship meant. How tragic would it have been for someone outside of it to figure it out first?

With them being clued in, speculation surrounding all of their connections followed. Moxie and Ritchie were mentioned together in the same sentence more than a few times. Moxie knowing that infuriated her more than the acts themselves. Nobody needed confirmation of their very few degrees of separation.

"We're more than halfway through the tour, so things will probably get easier when we're not constantly jetting away from each other."

"Yeah." Ritchie shrugged. "Maybe."

Maybe. Maybe.

"I—" He looked to the side, his jaw clenched. "You don't have to... I probably should have just ordered my drink and left, huh."

"Probably."

Ritchie hadn't taken a sip of his drink. Some kind of iced coffee. The same amount of milk Cruella took in her coffee.

"We're still friends but we don't talk as much anymore. Understandably." Ritchie nodded toward her. She was the explanation for a situation she wasn't involved with. "Sometimes I worry. But it's not my place to put any of that on you."

Moxie pursed her lips. "Even though it kind of feels like you are now."

"Yeah, I guess. Sorry."

"It's alright. I get it." And she did. She had too many unanswered calls in her call history to not understand. But they shared far more history, and Moxie had no idea if her level of concern over relatively minor incidents matched whatever levels of concern he felt after years of being in a relationship with her. "She's fine. Or, at least, better than whatever the headlines are saying she is. If you are worried though, I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

"I don't... I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't want to get in the way of things. Especially if they're new."

"You're not getting in the way of anything," Moxie said. "You're friends. Cruella doesn't need anyone's permission to have friends."

Moxie wanted to laugh at her eagerness to encourage her current whatever it was to talk to her ex-boyfriend, but they had a lot going on, both separately and together. As Cruella had mentioned before, Ritchie had his own struggles regarding Giovanni's article and she didn't want to take away that outlet from him. Not to mention he probably understood Cruella more to figure out what might have been going on with Cruella, or if these flashes of something concerning were minor precursors to something bigger.

Ritchie's phone rang and he clicked it off quickly.

"Thanks for the coffee," Moxie said.

"I can—"

"I'd rather you not cancel plans to hang out. No offense."

Ritchie laughed. "None taken. Um, coffee. You're welcome. Sorry I couldn't make two minutes of small talk a little less painful."

"I almost knocked your skateboard onto your toe so—" Moxie shrugged.