I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 83: Operation Coffee Catastrophe
Jon jogged onto the practice field beside Terry, already slipping into that familiar headspace. Time to grind. Stretching, running drills, maybe exchanging a few heavy hits with teammates just to shake off the week. Coach would shout until someone cried or vomited—or both—and by the end of it, everyone would limp off, bonded by shared pain and sweat.
The sun beat down as they began warm-ups, jogging in sync.
"What's running through that head of yours?" Terry asked between stretches, his tone suspiciously light.
Jon rolled his shoulders, already feeling the burn creeping into his muscles. "Just hoping I make it through another one of Coach's surprise sprints without losing a lung."
Terry scoffed. "You're seriously not even a little worried about Trevor?"
Jon gave him a quick glance. "Why would I be?"
Terry gawked, clearly baffled. "Uh, because your girlfriend is meeting up with her ex. At a coffee shop. That's like the most emotionally loaded place for an ex-meeting."
Jon shrugged with practiced nonchalance. "If she wanted to be with Trevor, she would be. She's with me. It's really not that complicated."
Terry stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You're either the most emotionally stable guy I've ever met… or incredibly naïve."
Jon grinned, already jogging toward the end zone. "Could be both."
Meanwhile: The Stakeout Begins
While Jon was busy sweating it out on the field, a very different sort of mission was underway just a few blocks away. One involving lattes, overreactions, and a complete lack of forethought.
Haley had summoned her troops.
There was Alex, the tech-savvy realist roped in under protest.
Phil, her overly enthusiastic father, convinced he was now living out some long-awaited espionage fantasy.
And Cam, who had ditched brunch (which he never did lightly) for what he described as "Juicy Teenage Drama."
The four of them sat crammed in Phil's SUV, parked a block away from the target: a quaint coffee shop with string lights, indie music, and way too many succulents.
"We're officially in position," Haley said, pointing to a digital map on her phone. "Trevor and Sam are supposed to meet here in fifteen. We go in casual. Blend in, observe, and if things go south… we intervene."
"Define casual," Alex muttered, eyeing her dad's outfit.
Phil was wearing a long tan trench coat and a pair of sunglasses so large they'd make a celebrity jealous.
"It's for stealth," Phil said in a dramatic whisper.
"It's seventy-eight degrees," Alex deadpanned. "You look like you're about to do a very unconvincing stakeout in a student film."
"Stealth doesn't care about temperature!" Phil insisted.
Cam clapped excitedly. "Honestly? This is better than brunch. It's like an off-brand Dynasty episode. But live. And worse."
Phase Two: Implosion
As it turned out, stealth was not their strong suit.
The operation unraveled faster than Jon's patience for wind sprints.
Haley, trying to sneak a photo from behind the pastry counter, tripped into a decorative display and sent a cascade of overpriced organic coffee beans tumbling across the floor. The crash echoed. So did the silence that followed.
Cam, attempting to inconspicuously gather intel, "accidentally" wandered into the men's restroom and found himself face-to-face with Trevor.
"Hey," Cam said, trying for casual. "You ever think exes can really, like, reconnect? Or is that just stuff people say in movies?"
Trevor blinked, baffled and mid-urinal-use. "Dude... what?"
Meanwhile, Phil had managed to acquire a barista apron—no one asked how—and was parading around offering foam refills with the unearned confidence of someone auditioning for a high school play.
"Can I tempt you two lovebirds with extra foam? Perhaps a sprinkle of cinnamon?" he said cheerfully, addressing the couple sitting beside Sam and Trevor.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Phil?"
Trevor furrowed his brow. "Wait... you know the staff?"
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not exactly."
And with that, the operation combusted.
Haley, now on hands and knees, scrambled to gather coffee beans like spilled secrets. She looked up just in time to meet Sam's withering stare. Sam didn't say a word—she didn't have to. A single sharp head tilt and a finger-flicking gesture were enough to convey: Leave now or suffer.
Cam vanished. Alex murmured "abort mission" like a retreating soldier. Phil dropped his tray like it had betrayed him. Haley dove behind a decorative plant for cover—only to realize it was fake. And only two feet tall.
The team limped back to Phil's SUV, egos bruised and caffeine regret hanging heavy in the air.
Then Haley, pale and panicked, glanced down at her phone and typed furiously.
Jon's Perspective:
Practice ended with Jon soaked in sweat and barely functioning. He staggered toward the locker room, muscles aching, mind already on cold water and air conditioning.
Then his phone buzzed.
"WE GOT CAUGHT."
That was it. No context.
A second message came through.
"COFFEE SHOP. COME QUICK. BRING PEACE OFFERING OR SOMETHING."
Jon groaned. "What now?"
Without another word, he sprinted to his car.
Jon pushed open the café door and immediately understood the gravity of the situation. The scene before him could've been titled "The Agony of Regret (feat. Macchiatos)."
Sam sat across a table, arms folded tightly, expression carved from granite.
Across from her, the would-be spies sat like children who'd been caught drawing on the walls. Haley was studiously avoiding eye contact. Alex was pretending to examine the drink menu. Phil was nervously stirring a straw in someone else's cup. Cam looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that led him here.
Jon raised his hands in mock surrender as he approached.
"Hey," he said gently. "I'm really, really sorry. I know this looks bad. They meant well. Truly. Even if their approach was... bananas."
Sam let her eyes drift to the ragtag group of shame and caffeine across the table. She exhaled through her nose.
"I know they care," she said finally. "I can see that. Even if they're clearly out of their minds."
"Hey," Haley mumbled. "I'm only partially nuts."
Sam didn't even blink. "You tackled a coffee display, Haley."
"Okay. Nuts-adjacent."
Sam's expression softened, if only slightly. "Just promise me this," she said, her gaze sweeping across the group. "No more spying. No more coffee-shop surveillance. If I need help, I'll ask."
Everyone nodded solemnly. Phil looked like he might go in for a group hug until Jon shot him a look that said don't you dare.
Jon reached for Sam's hand. "Let's get out of here."
Sam stood, still shaking her head. As they walked toward the door, she leaned in close.
"This was the weirdest coffee meet I've ever had."
Jon chuckled. "You should've seen the time Cam fake-fainted at Costco."
Sam gave him a look. "What is up with your family?"
Jon sighed. "I ask myself that at least once a day."
They stepped outside—not into a dramatic sunset, but into a busy parking lot. Still, in that moment, it felt like they were walking away from chaos and toward something a little more peaceful.
Or at least... drama-free for now.