sunflower: resurrected (a maxpres fic rewrite) (2022)

rain

10 minutes into my shift and I'm already getting yelled at.

Some uppity bitch didn't get the exact ratio of whipped cream to coffee that she asked for, and she's taking it out on me. I didn't even make her stupid fucking coffee. I almost snap back at her but I see my manager watching me out of the corner of my eye. She always senses my next outburst. I need this job...and this lady is not worth it. I take a few deep breaths. I look the angry bitch right in the eyes and smile as wide as possible.

"I am so sorry ma'am. May I get a new order for you?"

God. I sound like such a little bitch. And...she doesn't buy it.

"No need. I'm taking my business elsewhere!" she turns sharply on her heel and marches out the front door. She nearly topples another customer who is making their way through the front door. They make a commotion, flailing and sputtering at her.

"Watch where you're going! I just got this shirt ironed!"

That voice, that loud voice, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I look up and see Preston angrily brushing imaginary dirt off his perfect prissy turtleneck. What a fucking drama queen. He takes a deep annoyed sigh and continues walking up to the counter, muttering to himself. I roll my eyes. I feel pretty bad for the bastards that work here. Suddenly, Preston is standing right in front of me.

"Max?"

Oh. Shit. I work here.

I meet his eyes and feign confusion. It'll probably be easier if I pretend to not recognize him. Maybe he'll just order his shit and leave.

"Uh...yep. That's what the nametag says." I deadpan, giving him only half of my customer service smile. I've never been a good actor. "What can I get for you?"

"You don't remember me?" Preston asks. Goddammit. Why can't he just drop this?

"Preston! Preston Goodplay?" He waves both hands in front of himself in a grand sweeping gesture. I don't let up. I raise an eyebrow and shake my head. He groans and reaches for his ponytail, tugging it free. Woah. His hair is way longer than I thought. It falls over his shoulders kind of dramatically. Either his hair has a mind of its own or I'm fucking imagining things. Preston clears his throat, bringing me back to attention. He has his hair propped up with one hand, creating a bob.

"From camp?" he seems very impatient now. Clearly, he won't give this up until I remember him. Fucking stubborn.

"Oh, yeah. Preston." I roll my eyes. "How could I possibly forget. You're just as dramatic as I remember."

Preston scoffs as he puts his hair back in its low ponytail.

"You, on the other hand, are less aggressive than I remember." He tightens his ponytail as if to punctuate his sentence. Everything he does is like practiced choreography. And I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. My first instinct is to get defensive anyways.

"Well," I start, through gritted teeth. "If you keep holding up the line I would just love to reintroduce you to that 'old me' that you miss so much." I gesture to the annoyed group of customers piling up behind him.

Preston guffaws and murmurs, "Miss? Ridiculous." under his breath, uncharacteristically quiet for the first time since I first saw him yesterday. Preston orders his shitty, sugary coffee and loudly apologizes to each and every frustrated customer on his way out. He turns to look at me when he gets to the door. He makes sure we lock eyes before he smirks, takes a sip of his coffee, and flips me off. I just glare at him as I watch him exit the shop and pass by the glass windows. Choreography. Everything he does is shitty choreography.

I can't hold back my grimace even when I take the next customer's order. That asshole. He probably did all that just to get revenge after I pretended to forget who he was. Maybe it would have been faster if I just played along.

My mind replays his exit. That bastard smirked at me. I frown to myself as my face burns red.

——

During my break, my manager sits down across from me and gives me a stern look.

"What was all that about?"

I slump back in my seat, huffing.

"He's just some kid."

She shakes her head. "Just some kid...if he was just some kid then I'm sure you would have been able to keep your composure," She narrows her eyes at me. "Just like we practiced, right?"

I let out another huff.

"Max, you can not treat customers like that. I understand that these ladies are difficult to deal with, but you instigated the argument you had with that one boy."

I avert my eyes downwards. There's no fucking way she thinks I started this. This was all Preston's fault. I don't even attempt to look at her. I'm too pissed and I'd rather keep my job.

"You're on thin ice," she continues. "So just keep your personal tiffs out of work and we won't have a problem."

She gives me one of her sickly sweet customer service smiles and gets up from her seat. She leaves me alone for the rest of the day. I seethe in the break room by myself.

Fucking Preston.