recreational idiocy | wilbur soot

𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐱 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲

𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

i'm not usually so reluctant to leave my bed in the morning, but today it takes much more effort to drag myself out of my cotton sanctuary and into proper clothes. 

money's been quite tight recently, so i've had to pick up the morning shift at a local coffee shop, along with the usual odd pub gig or singing for tips at the train station or a park bench. 

it seems so nice and aesthetic when you read about this kind of life or see it play out in the cinema, but i promise you it's rather dull.

i've got to wear an apron over my clothes anyway, and i've got very nearly no time to change, so I pull on some baggy cargo trousers and an old crywank tee that's been through so many turns in the wash that it's practically silk.

i never really put much work into my hair, and i'm definitely not in the business of taking loads of time to get ready this particular morning, so I clip it up into a sort of sloppy half pony, and head out the door after grabbing my bag and a jumper in case the weather turns (outfit in heading)

as i enter the shop, the rich aroma of coffee and pastries surrounds me, practically pulling me through the door.

"olivia! you've come! I didn't know whether to expect you, since you've gotten here so late, but we mustn't even worry about such things when we're so swamped..." my slightly ditzy manager, sherry, trails off and looks around. 

sherry's hair is full of curls and waves in every direction, and it's such a rich shade of auburn you'd think it had been painted on. she always looks as though she's just stepped right off the pages of a novel and hasn't the slightest idea where she is or what she's doing. 

needless to say, she's one of my favorite people in the world, though she is quite the character.

"you'll have to forgive my tardiness, miss. I seemed to have a bit of trouble leaving my bed this morning. long night, you know, nearly kipped on the sofa, I was so tired.." I finished, looking up at her. though she had every right to reprimand me, she simply smiled and patted my head. 

she was nearly gone before she called over her shoulder, "that's quite all right, dear!" and disappeared behind the door to our employee lounge.

having gotten a good look at the crowd of people waiting impatiently for their orders, i was hit with a wave of displeasure to be working the morning shift.

the easiest shift was the late one, set at precisely the time most people trade coffee shops for pubs and caffeine for alcohol. 

I'd much rather be working then, but since that's the pubs' busiest time of day, I've got to go pick up music jobs there, as it's the best time for exposure, and, most importantly, money. 

no customers means no tips, and no tips means no rent, and that would mean a long string of unfortunate events that I haven't got the need for.

so, then... i get to work. i spend the morning serving drinks, bussing tables, and doing practically every open job that needs to be done, and I do them well. i'm polite to the customers, and talk with them for as long as my time permits in order to earn as much as I can. 

i find the best way to do this is to wait a bit before offering refills, and to not seem too cheery, yet not too cool either. 

being overly nice means that the customers pick up on the fact you're working for the extra money, and they tend to give less, especially when it's grumpy english drunks who've got hangovers and awful tempers. 

those are the type of people I tend to leave alone.

nearly halfway through my shift, just as I've taken off my apron and am getting ready to take my lunch, a tall, lanky man who looks to be somewhere in the range of 19 to 26 walks in. 

well... to be quite truthful, he sort of... stumbles in. 

he doesn't look drunk, no. just tired beyond any sort of exhaustion I've ever seen on a face beside my own. and maybe a bit hungover, after all. and, to be quite frank, he's extremely fit. 

the man chooses a table in the far corner of the shop and looks up, making eye contact with me, and keeping it so long I lose my train of thought. 

his long legs dwarf the chair he's chosen, and his hair ever so slightly falls into his face; he makes no effort to remove it. 

i give a polite, careful smile, finish up a conversation with my coworker over who's got the night shift on Thursday, and walk over to him.

should i flirt with him a bit? it feels slightly illegal not to, i thought to myself as i make my way to his table, taking my time so as not to make him believe i was in a rush to get to him. 

i really shouldn't care about these things...

 but like i said before, he really is quite fit.

he gives a slightly lopsided grin and tilts his head at me. "cool shirt," he mumbles. his voice is a pleasant one, gravelly with sleep, and his smile is easy and kind. he smiles with his eyes, this man, and it's one of the most attractive qualities you could imagine.

taking care to maintain eye contact, difficult though it may be considering his looks, I answer "thank you very much. I take it you like the band as well?"

 "you've got no idea," he says, then gives a last look at his menu. "may I please get... anything you've got with caffeine in it?" he asks. 

for a moment I think he's taking the mickey out on me, but when he says nothing else, I nod uncertainly.

 "your... er... coffee will arrive shortly. may I take down your name?" I ask, taking up a pen and pad of paper from my pocket. 

"will," he provides. "and who might you be?" he raises an eyebrow. 

i give a startled laugh, but collect myself quickly and smile. 

"i might be olivia. or I might not. guess you'll have to ask me again tomorrow," i say sarcastically, turning away to a low chuckle from the stranger called will.

a/n

Hey guys, it's bea. This chapter was a bit short, but really fun to write, and I think it was a good start to the book. Thoughts? I promise the next one will be MUCH longer.

-🐝