Stacey’s head shoots up, her face the picture of surprise – first at Puck’s presence because where did he come from and then to find she’s standing at the front of the line. Oops. How long had she been counting? She turns to look over her shoulder, offering an apologetic smile to anyone she might have been holding up before turning back to Puck, starring at him for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning her attention to the barista with that same apologetic smile. She’d only brought enough for medium coffee (or she’d meant to, anyway), living on a budget meant making sacrifices, but since Puck was paying…
“Double mocha latte, extra whip,” she orders, and it’s sure to put an extra spring in her step. Nothing like a caffeinated sugar rush to start your day off right! And now she doesn’t have to worry about breakfast. Double score!
Still she insists, “I totally had it under control,” as they step to the side and wait for their drinks. “But thanks. Even though I’m pretty sure the pouting trick only works on you.” And her parents. And her siblings. Or the bartender at Trouble Tones that always uses a heavy hand when pouring Stacey’s drinks – but Puck is by far her favorite person to have wrapped around her finger. A sentiment that rang especially true back in middle school when she’d been sure the two of them would get married some day. What can she say? Puck was her Zac Efron.
(Though if it came down to a choice between Puck and Harry Styles, she’d still choose Harry every time.)
“Thanks,” she finally says, managing to look a little sheepish that she hadn’t said it sooner.
His coffee is ready much sooner than hers and he swipes it off the counter without much more than a nod to the boy who called his name, thankful for the bitter taste on his lips as he leans lazily against the edge of the counter. “If it works on me, I’ll bet it works on a good amount of others, even if its just some dumbass dudes who’ll get you a free pizza or somethin’.”
Puck shakes his head slightly, amusement written over his features. “You’re good.” He adds easily, a crooked smile spreading on his cheeks. “Happy to buy you coffee, even when it’s some fruity bullshit.” His eyebrows flick up in a light motion to show his joking, even if it’s pretty obvious, at least with her, that he never had any intention of being genuinely mean.
“Gives me the excuse to bother you too— new jobs taken up just enough of my time that everyone’s gotten a break from my dumbass.” He nods towards the tables. “You got time to kill some time with me or you gotta run off to save some itty bitty lives?”