Before Shawn even stepped foot into the coffee shop that morning, he had already made up his mind.

I can’t do it anymore…

I’m out.

It had only been two months; a whole month less than his father had predicted, but he could already feel the first waves of that familiar sensation crashing over him.

Restlessness.

Boredom.

Ennui.

It was time to move on.

He didn’t have a choice. He had to move on.

As he stood at his bathroom sink, staring at his disheveled, disheartened reflection in the mirror, he knew it was true.

I don’t have time for this anymore…he told himself, feeling guilty for even thinking it.

There’s so much more out there.

I have to live my life.

My real life.

Not this lie.

He tried to shake the feeling off, tried to tell himself that this time it was different.

This time, he was going to stick it out…

He sighed, aching to depths of his soul.

I have to get out of here.

He got dressed, slower than usual, and walked outside.

He planned on going right to the Psych office, like he’d promised Gus.

He planned on being a good friend…a good fake psychic detective…

But then he saw his bike.

It was just sitting there…unused…unloved…

He hadn’t even been out of Santa Barbara in two months.

He may as well be in prison.

What could one little ride hurt…?

So, he’d be late to the office…Gus wouldn’t care.

He hopped on and took off, for the first time in two months feeling the wind rushing past him and not thinking about anything but the road…

For the first time in two months, feeling free.

He didn’t plan on stopping at the coffee shop for breakfast…but then again, Shawn never planned anything that happened to him.

He liked it that way.

He sat at the counter, silently sipping his orange juice and staring off into space, already knowing that he was never going to go back to Psych.

He was never going back to Santa Barbara.

He couldn’t go back.

But how on earth was he going to tell Gus it was over?

Maybe I don’t have to…he thought dully.

Maybe I should just leave town…don’t look back…send a post card…

Of course, Gus would hate him if he did that.

But just for a while.

He’d forgive him…

Eventually.

Once he got his security deposit on the Psych office back.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t still have his pharmaceutical job to go back to…

He’ll be fine without me…

He doesn’t need me.

Shawn absently started to make a straw wrapper snake, dripping his juice on it one drop at a time, watching it slowly unfold and writhe on the counter.

It was something he’d done since he was a kid.

It always drove his dad nuts.

“You’re wasting juice and making a mess, Shawn. Some waitress has to clean up after that. Knock it off!”

At least once he split town, he wouldn’t have to listen to that anymore.

And he wouldn’t be around to hear the inevitable lecture about quitting yet another job…another job he swore he’d keep…just like all the others…

He sighed, leaving his orange juice and partially-finished straw wrapper snake where they were as he stepped outside the coffee shop to buy a paper, hoping the travel section had some good ideas on where he should go next.

I don’t care where I end up…I just have to get out of here.

I can’t waste any more time in Santa Barbara…

I don’t have anymore time to waste…

He re-entered only a minute later.

But, somehow, that minute was enough.

There was a girl sitting in his seat now.

His seat.

He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded.

How could she not know that was his seat?

He sidled up beside her, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice.

“Excuse me. You're in my seat.”

She glanced up for the first time, her bright eyes instantly sizing him up, and just as quickly disregarding him.

“Am I?” She asked, obviously not about to jump up and relinquish her chair. Not when there were dozens of other perfectly good chairs around.

“Actually, yes. You are.”

She seemed to suppress a small laugh at his persistence.

“Are you one of those weirdo compulsives who come to the same restaurant, sit in the same chair, and eat the same food every day?” She wanted to know.

He grinned broadly, despite the semi-harsh slap in the face to his sanity.

God, she’s quick!

Cute, too…

“Uh, no... no, no. I was sitting right there three minutes ago, and then I went outside to get myself a paper. I ordered a juice… And, look. I made a crawling snake with the straw wrapper. You can finish it if you think you're up to the job.”

She glanced at the juice, for a moment looking slightly apologetic.

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to move?”

“Not anymore,” he smiled coyly, sliding into the chair next to her.

“So, what’s up?”

What’s up? He kicked himself mentally.

What the hell kind of pick-up line is that?

Usually, he was better at flirting…

But, usually, he wasn’t flirting with girls as sharp as this one clearly was.

The line fell flat.

Obviously.

She just rolled her eyes and continued to ignore him, going back to reading her paper.

“I don’t have time to talk,” she mumbled, brushing him off like a housefly.

“But you haven’t heard what I’m going to say,” he insisted lightly, doing the best he could to recover.

He could already tell his typical pick-up routine wasn’t going to work.

Not with her.

This girl was going to require some major impressing if he wanted even a second glance from her.

And, God, did he ever want a second glance from her.

“See, now we’ve already talked more than I wanted to,” she returned, almost…nearly… flirtatiously.

That did it.

Shawn’s heart was in his throat.

God, she’s incredible!

She’s so quick!

Impress her, you idiot!

Impress her!

“Well, I did give you my seat you know. I think that gets me one question.”

She exhaled sharply, putting her paper down and turning back to him

Ah-ha! My second glance! He thought victoriously. Something’s working…

“Listen. Diner guy…”

“Shawn,” he corrected gently.

“Shawn. Look. Flattered. Really. Normally, I am very happy to meet new people. But right here, right now. I can’t talk.”

He just nodded in agreement, still grinning like an idiot.

“I understand. I do. What if I do the talking for both of us?” He asked.

She just shrugged, back to being completely indifferent to his very existence.

Somehow, he found that…irresistible.

“Have at it,” she told him. “Do you mind if I read the paper and stare aimlessly out the window while you two talk?”

“No. Can I get a name to work with?”

“Juliet.”

“Well, it's very nice to meet you, Juliet.”

Juliet…

Kind of obvious…but it works for her…somehow.

Now impress her, you stupid moron!

Shawn couldn’t remember ever working this hard to impress a girl, ever caring this much that, for all intents and purposes, he seemed to be failing miserably.

It was like high school all over again…

Even his hilarious and, if he did say so himself, brilliant two-way conversation between himself and him-playing-her didn’t seem to make an impression.

She still looked bored.

She still didn’t have the time.

Not for him.

Not for this.

Not for…

Suddenly, he saw the gun.

She’s a cop!

She’s undercover …

That’s why she’s ignoring me!

She DOES have the time…just not right now…

It all happened so quickly after that.

The door burst open, and the coffee shop was suddenly flooded with cops.

But Shawn wasn’t watching them.

He was still watching Juliet.

She had drawn her gun and was aiming it at the man being dragged out the front door, but her hands were trembling and her face was full of terror.

It was the cutest damn thing Shawn had ever seen.

“First time pulling your gun?” He asked with a mocking grin as she dumped the weapon back into her purse and headed for the door.

“Maybe.” She snapped churlishly.

He watched her leave, smiling to himself.

She so has the time for me…

At least, she will…

He stood up and slowly walked to the door.

I guess I should get over to Psych…

You never know when the Chief is gonna call us in on a case…