•⋅⊰∙∘☽✼☾∘∙⊱⋅•
The aroma of coffee mixed with cinnamon syrup filled the air as I settled into a corner booth at Shellie's Diner, stirring my milkshake for what felt like the hundredth time. The little bell above the door jingled every few minutes, making my heart race in anticipation — only to drop when it wasn't him walking in.
Ethan was thirty minutes late, which was unusual for him.
I checked my phone again, maybe for the tenth time, scrolling through our earlier texts and rereading his messages. I hoped it might shed some light on his absence. I tried to stay calm — maybe he got caught up with something, or practice ran late, or maybe his phone died. But the longer I waited, the more anxious I became.
The waitress came over again, balancing a tray and giving me a smile that felt almost too bright. She looked around my age, maybe a bit older, with strawberry-blonde hair in a messy bun and a small heart tattoo on her wrist.
