The Bad Boy and Miss Checklist

Chapter 3: Coffee shop, Confessions and Comparisons

Elise had finished classes for the morning, a sigh after being dismissed by the professor with one thing on her mind: coffee, her feet brought her to Sprout.

The bell above the café door jingled as she stepped, clutching her tote bag and brushing her hair back in place a few of her curls escaped from her bun. The smell of roasted beans and cinnamon rolls wrapped around her like a hug, instantly easing the tension she hadn't even realized she was holding. This little coffee shop was her refuge, her anchor in the whirlwind of her busy, her midday haven. And sitting by the window in their usual booth, with sunglasses etched on her head of hot pink hair and a caramel latte in hand was Miley — her best friend since first-year of high school.

“There she is,” Miley grinned, waving her over like she was summoning a celebrity. “Elise herself, right on schedule. I could set my watch to you.”

She slid into the booth with a sigh.

“You know I like being on time.”

Miley smirked. “You like being early. There is a difference.

Then she leaned forward, lowering her voice, with the kind of mischievous glint that meant she was about to damn gossip.” So. Why did you text me at 8am this morning saying, and I quote, “You will not believe who I just ran onto?”

Elise fiddled with her sleeve. She hadn't wanted to say anything at first, but Miley was relentless, and the truth was burning her chest.

“It's nothing, just Jaxon Romano”

Miley nearly choked on her latte.

“What? Jaxon Romano as in -”

“Yes,” she cut in quickly.

“As in leather jacket, motorcycle, one man disaster, Jaxon Romano.” Miley's voice rose, drawing a look from the Barnstable, but she didn't care. She slapped her hand on the table.

“OH my God, you have to tell me everything. “

Elise groaned, covering her face.

“There is nothing to tell you. I ran into him leaving my apartment this morning after he confused the numbers on the doors. That's it”

Miley leaned back, grinning like she'd just been handed front row tickets to a scandal.

“So you locked eyes, time slowed, your heart skipped a beat…._”

“No,” she quickly interjected, heat rushing to her cheeks as there was some truth to her statement. “It was not like that. He smelled like cigarettes and bad decisions, his breath seeking alcohol with every word. I don't know how people even — he's just - ugh.”

Miley stirred her latte slowly, arching a brow.

“And yet you're still talking about him.”

Elise opened her mouth, then shut it. Why was she still talking about him? She should have brushed off the encounter, treated it like a minor inconvenience. But instead, she'd replayed that scowl, the careless way he carried himself and the nerve to accuse her of breaking into his apartment for s*x infuriated her all morning.

Miley, of course, pounced on the hesitation. “Look, I’m not saying you should run off and join his little gang of delinquents or whatever, but… maybe it wouldn’t kill you to have a little chaos in your life. You’ve been following rules since the day I met you. Schedules, color-coded planners, perfectly balanced meals.” She ticked off each item with her fingers, smirking. “And yet the guy you can’t stop thinking about is the exact opposite.”

“I am not thinking about him,” she insisted, though the words felt weak even to her own ears. “Besides, I have a boyfriend. A good one. A *responsible* one.”

“Responsible is good, but David has made your heart do a little hop, skip, jump,” Miley teased. “You’re twenty-one, not forty. You should be making mistakes, not… meal plans.”

Elise reached for her iced coffee, trying not to let Miley’s words get under her skin. She didn’t *want* chaos. She liked knowing where she stood, liked her lists and structure. But somewhere, deep down, she couldn’t deny the thrill that had sparked when Jaxon Romano had looked at her.

Miley watched her closely, then smiled softer this time. “All I’m saying is… don’t dismiss the idea just because it scares you. Sometimes the best stories start with the worst people.”

The heroine rolled her eyes. “You’ve been reading too much fan fiction again.”

“Maybe,” Miley shrugged. “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

The bell above the door jingled again, and for a wild second, she thought—no, *feared*—that it might be him. Her chest tightened, but when she glanced over, it was only an older man with a newspaper. Relief washed through her, followed quickly by disappointment she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She shook it off, gathering her things. “I have dinner plans with David tonight. I should go.”

Miley smirked knowingly. “Tell Mr. Perfect, I said hi. And when you find yourself bored out of your mind, just remember there’s a whole different kind of excitement out there.”

Elise huffed, but Miley’s words clung to her like the scent of coffee, lingering long after she left the shop.

**Dinner with David**

The restaurant was one of David’s favorites—neat, quiet, tucked between an office complex and a bank. The kind of place where the waiters wore pressed shirts and the menus didn’t bother with pictures.

She sat across from him in the booth, her napkin folded neatly in her lap, trying to focus on the flickering candle between them instead of the way her thoughts kept drifting.

David was handsome in the way a polished resume might be—clean-cut, reliable, checked boxes everywhere. Tonight, he wore a pressed button-up with sleeves rolled perfectly to his forearms, his blond hair combed back with care. He was already deep into explaining something about his internship at the law firm, voice steady and animated, while she nodded politely.

“—so if I can impress the partners, they’ll probably consider me for a full-time spot after graduation,” he was saying, gesturing lightly with his fork. “That’s the path, you know? Intern, junior associate, senior associate, and then, maybe, partner by thirty-five if I play my cards right.”

She smiled faintly, though she wasn’t sure he noticed. His ambition had been one of the first things she admired about him. He always knew where he was going, and she’d thought that was what she wanted too—certainty. But tonight, his words blurred together like background noise, drowned out by the echo of a husky voice in her head. *“What are you doing in my apartment? ”*

Her stomach tightened. She picked at her pasta, twirling the noodles without appetite.

David finally paused long enough to sip his water. “So, how was your day?”

She blinked, dragged back to the present. “Oh—it was fine. I met Miley for coffee after class.”

He nodded. “Good. She keeps you balanced, I guess. Keeps you from stressing out too much.”

There was no question in his tone, just an assumption. Like he already had her figured out, and that was the end of it. She forced another smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

David launched into another story, this time about one of the partners at his firm who’d made a name for himself by taking on high-profile clients. She listened, or at least tried to. But her gaze kept slipping toward the window, to the street outside where headlights streaked past. She imagined, for just a split second, a motorcycle roaring to a stop at the curb. A leather jacket glinting under the streetlights. A familiar set of grey eyes dared her to step out of her bubble.

Her heart gave a tiny, traitorous jump. She blinked hard and dragged her attention back to the man in front of her.

David didn’t notice her distraction. He was too focused on his own narrative, his own goals. When the waiter returned with their meals, he barely paused before continuing, as though she were just another audience member in the story of his life.

“So I was thinking,” he said casually as he cut into his steak, “that when I get offered the permanent position, we could look at apartments together, closer to the city. Something practical. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Her fork froze midway through her mouth. *You’d like that, wouldn’t you?* Not a question, not really. More like a decision he’d already made. She was almost certain he already had a place picked out and was just informing her rather than asking for her input.

“Maybe,” she said softly, setting her fork down.

He smiled, satisfied, as if her answer had confirmed everything. He had no idea that her chest felt tight, that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be penciled into his five-year plan anymore.

Dinner dragged on, every tick of the clock pressing against her like a weight. She laughed when he expected her to laugh, nodded when she was supposed to nod. But beneath the surface, something restless stirred.

When the bill came, David insisted on paying. “It’s only fair. I’ll be making real money soon, anyway,” he said with a chuckle.

She forced another polite smile, thanking him, but her mind was already far away. Not on law firms or city apartments or the safe, predictable road he mapped out so easily. But on the way, Jaxon Romano’s eyes had flicked over her this morning, sharp and wild, everything against her checklists and perfect routine.

As David walked her to her car, she realized she’d spent the entire evening comparing the man holding her hand to the man she’d sworn she’d never think about again.