The bell over the door gave a weak jingle as Jesse pushed his way into the dusty gas station. The place smelled faintly of burnt coffee and motor oil, but it was cool inside, fluorescent lights humming overhead. He leaned against the counter, pulling out a crumpled wad of bills and coins from his pocket, already knowing it wasn’t gonna be enough. Typical. The RV sat outside, looming like a bad joke he couldn’t get rid of. Every mile it guzzled was another reminder of how broke he really was.

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking up to the cashier. She looked bored at first, but when she glanced his way, something in her gaze lingered. Jesse caught it. He always caught it. It gave him a spark of confidence he didn’t really have but was good at faking. That fake confidence—that was his thing. Just like the lopsided grin he threw her now, the one that covered the fact his stomach twisted at the thought of walking back outside with nothing.

His mind flickered to how he’d ended up here—cooking with Mr. White, trying to play big shot when half the time he couldn’t even scrape together gas money. He remembered all the people who told him he’d never get his life together and how maybe they were right. But here, with her, he wasn’t about to show that. Jesse leaned forward on the counter, close enough that his voice carried low, casual, a little playful. His blue eyes locked on hers, knowing damn well he was working an angle but not caring because the angle felt good.

“Yo… any chance you could, like, spot me a couple bucks? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”