Despite the craving to investigate her accident now that she had more—and better—details of it, Jessamine heeded her mother's warning and stayed away from the news in general. Patrons at the coffee-shop did buzz about with the gossip—Amy was a bit of a local celebrity, having lived not far, in San Francisco. But for the most part, Jessamine steered clear of any videos or any photos that might have triggered her again.

Her sleep pattern had been off, though. As someone who normally slept soundly through the night, she kept waking in a hot sweat, throwing the covers off, getting up to check her air-conditioning—it worked—and fighting to get back to sleep. Three nights in a row she was plagued with ominous nightmares of the forest, and sinister flashes of that house—stark white against a black background, flaring with blue glows through the windows and a creepy red halo around it. That wasn't what it had looked like in Amy's video, of course; but apparently, Jessamine's mind wanted her to remember it that way.

Regardless of her moodiness—a disruption in her slumber caused her to crave more coffee than usual, which made her jittery, which pissed her off—she had to work, and she requested to not man the register until she could get a hold on her problematic nightmares. None of her co-workers complained—most weren't as keen on making the coffee as they were about drinking it during their breaks.

The shop went through a habitual afternoon rush on a busy Saturday, when the door's bell rang for what felt like the millionth time. Jessamine glanced up from the machine she'd been working with, grimacing at the prospect of another line of thirsty coffee-drinkers to serve. But her grimace melted at the sight of two well-built men, peeking into the coffee-shop with an air of intrigue.

Most of those who came to Common Grounds were regulars; she'd never seen these two before. They hesitantly entered, letting the door shut behind them, and stood staring about the place, taking in its mismatched tables, its rows of bookshelves on one end, the hustle and bustle of hipsters carrying coffee to their seats.

One of them had smooth, light brown skin that brought out a pair of big, baby blue eyes—noticeable from a fair distance, Jessamine realized. He smirked as he relaxed, accepting the scenery, seemingly okay with the busy location. He stretched out his long arms over his head; he was tall, probably around six foot one or two.

Curious, Jessamine continued to watch him as he spoke to the guy who'd walked in with him. The instant cockiness to his demeanor wasn't lost on her. She'd been acquainted with his type—good-looking and he knew it, he worked out and had no trouble flaunting it without being in your face about it. He was that guy who licked his lips when he flirted with you, rubbed his chin, looked at you in the eyes but was actually ogling your boobs; a skill he was proud of. Unfortunately, that was Jessamine's type—confident, borderline obnoxious, but knew what to say to subdue his prey. Not for serious relationships, but for one-night fun or friends-with-benefits situations... which she hadn't had in a while.

Whoa, am I that desperate and horny?

Jessamine snorted; she loved guessing backstories of newcomers to the shop, and was usually dead-on when they later spoke to her. Tourists were chatty, and Common Grounds was located in a frequented tourist spot.

She switched to the other guy, who wasn't much her style; lighter skin, big and burly, the bearded, man-bun sporting, plaid-wearing type that every girl in the country fawned over. He wasn't bad-looking at all, but a tad too large for Jessamine, though not fat. His muscles were certainly larger than the other guy's, but his shirt was a looser fit; he wasn't trying to show off, like the darker-skinned one.

"They're totally a couple," she whispered to herself as she resumed her tasks, but kept an eye on them.

They approached the line of patrons waiting in front of the register, and skimmed the menu above her head; but they hadn't noticed her. The steam from the massive coffee-machines kept her hidden; now she'd be able to listen to them without them ever knowing. Most customers had no inkling how much baristas could hear.

Though others were talking, too, it was their conversation she picked up on.

"Dude, I'm telling you; Sugarloaf Ridge," said the darker skinned guy, his voice neutral, neither guttural nor high-pitched. A voice she instantly enjoyed, pleasant to the ears; like an audio-book voice-actor who read the parts for the hunky male lead. "It looked like the Meadow Trail."

The other guy scoffed. "Avery, I'm sorry, but you think every trail is the Meadow Trail." His voice wasn't as deep as Jessamine had expected, but it was still intimidating, low in the throat, kind of threatening. "You haven't really hiked anywhere else, so you have nothing to compare it to."

The one named Avery scrunched his face in disagreement, shaking his head. "I swear it was, though."

Big burly dude made a dismissive gesture with a hand, implying this Avery guy was full of shit. "Well, I've hiked more than you around here, and I think it was near Black Mountain Retreat Center."

Jessamine smiled at their banter while tapping the porta filter to distribute the ground coffee evenly.

"How would you know?" The line had moved, and their voices were closer now.

"Because I've been there several times, and with Amy, too." Big guy's timbre was different; slightly choked, as if he'd seen or felt something that had bothered him. "She loved that area, so she could be there."

Amy?

Jessamine's eyebrows joined as she reflected on this. Was this a friend of theirs? And was it coincidental that her name would be the same as the woman who'd disappeared?

They'd arrived at the register, and Jessamine hurried to finish the order she'd been working on.

"Hi," said the bigger guy, his earlier distress gone as he addressed the cashier. "A large mixed mocha with vanilla and caramel, please." Jessamine cringed—way too sugary for her. "And a medium black Americano for him." At that, she grinned; she loved a man who'd drink straight up black coffee, like her. No sweet shit, no foofy syrups; just delicious java.

Yeah, this Avery guy is my style, for sure. Too bad he's taken by big burly boy.

As the cashier handed her their cups—Jamie was scribbled on both of them, so she assumed that was the bigger guy's name—Jessamine got to work, but kept her ears perked to tune into their discussion as they resumed it.

"Why the fuck would she wander off like that?" Avery's tone had grown serious; it had been lighter earlier, or maybe it had been too far for Jessamine to detect the concern in it.

She took a quick peek at him between the machines—up close he looked suddenly familiar. Was he a regular, and she hadn't recognized him? Did he live in town, only discovering the coffee place now? Or was he one of the B-listers from San Francisco or LA that tended to stop in on their way to a casting?

Come to think of it, Jamie was familiar, too; not because he harbored that over-worn style of wood-chopping, romance novel cover bad-boy, but because his face was one she felt she'd seen before.

Avery unzipped the tight, maroon-colored long-sleeved hoodie he'd been wearing—weird, since it was eighty plus degrees outside. Those eyes she'd noticed across the room were more heart-stopping here, feet away from her, and she worried that if she didn't stop admiring them she'd mess up his simple order of black coffee.

"And then send me the video; ugh, I don't even know if I was allowed to release it to the press."

Jessamine froze halfway through slopping whipped cream into Jamie's cup.

Wait—is he referring to that video? Was he talking about Amy LaRoya?

Jamie shrugged, crossing his huge arms over his broad torso. Standing so close, he was bear-like, towering in front of the coffee machines as he glanced sideways at Avery.

"Well, the police thought it was right, so you need to stop doubting yourself, man." He let out a large puff of breath, and Jessamine smelled a hint of tobacco under the caramel and vanilla she was drizzling into his drink. "It's been two weeks. Even when you have big fights—"

"—this was the biggest, dude," said Avery, fidgeting, looking down at his shoes. Jessamine couldn't see them, but they squeaked on the tile, and she flinched at the sound. "Bigger than any we've ever had."

"Anyway," Jamie peered at the shiny black watch on his tree-trunk sized wrist, "she never stays gone for this long, after your spats. This," he winced, a slight sparkle in his eyes, that Jessamine saw were a light gray-green shade, "isn't right. Something's up."

As she put a lid on Avery's coffee, Jessamine bit her lip.

One, these guys weren't a couple, as she'd erroneously believed; and two, they were talking about Amy LaRoya, they had to be. It was all too coincidental; speaking of forests and trails, saying the name Amy, then referencing a video sent to the news? And the fight—if Avery had a fight with her, was it likely she was the one dating him, not Jamie?

It was no secret that Amy was in the paranormal business; so were these guys also paranormal investigators? Jessamine's appeal for Avery started to fizzle and evaporate. She had no time for men who believed in such made-up tales, even if it was just for a night.

"I know, and it smells spooky to me. That house, the stuff she filmed..." Avery's gulp was so loud Jessamine heard it over the whirring of the machines. "It was crazier than our usual ghost shit," he said, lowering his voice and leaning close to Jamie. "We've met with ghosts, yeah, but those blue lights?"

"No, dude, the red glow in the basement," said Jamie, suppressing a shiver; which instantly sent chills down Jessamine's back. "That was what got me most. I've never seen anything like it."

Blue lights I saw, but red? The fuck?

She made a mental note to disobey her mother later, to look up the full video and watch it to see if there were any red glows, or if these guys were, as she sadly thought, full of crap.

After securing both lids on their cups, Jessamine moved around to the counter where patrons were to pick up their drinks. "Jamie?" she said out loud, setting his frilly drink down first.

He showed up, inclined his head, offered a genuine smile. Then Avery nudged him out of the way and extended a hand for his cup, which Jessamine slid into his grasp—

And gasped as an electric jolt shocked up her arm at the contact of his skin on hers. It was brief—their fingers had barely grazed, and yet it felt like he'd grabbed her, squeezed her, and electrocuted her with his touch.

She fumbled backwards, shaking out her hand, about to ask him what the heck that was about; but she found him gaping between her and his hand, his jaw dropping. Had he been shocked, too?

"Uh," she said, blinking at him, unsure how to react.

Everyone was watching—she'd let out a screech at the sizzling sensation, and he'd spilled half his coffee over his hand, but hadn't reached for the napkins to wipe the liquid off.

Their gazes connected, and both of them stilled, in some sort of trance that Jessamine couldn't seem to snap out of.

Jamie had already begun to walk away, but at Jessamine's squeak, he'd come back, and was watching them and their interaction, eyes narrowed.

"Yo, what is it?" he asked, elbowing Avery, who remained in his stupor.

"Do I," Avery put the coffee cup down and angled forward, over the counter, "know you?"

Jessamine wasn't sure her vocal cords would work if she opened her mouth to speak, but she tried. "I," she cleared her throat, "was about to ask you the same."

"Ugh," moaned Jamie, seizing Avery by the arm and dragging him off to a table. "Not this shit again." He guided Avery into the chair, as if he had no clue how to bend his legs and sit, so stuck in his trance. "Don't bother the nice barista with your bullshit flirting tactics that don't work."

Jessamine took a breath, and its intensity brought her back to life, to the animation in the room, the moving queue of patrons waiting for her to start their orders.

Jamie hurried up to grab Avery's coffee, along with a wad of napkins, and frowned at Jessamine as he mopped up the mess. "Sorry, miss. One million views on YouTube, and this idiot thinks we're celebrities now. Don't mind him."

He walked off before Jessamine could respond, and she tipped backwards a little to sight the table where Avery had been seated. Yeah, he was still dazed, too, his gaze fixed towards her, his jaw still not quite recovered from the actual electric shock they'd experienced.

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