speak now | jack hughes DISCONTINUED

chapter one

Bailey Cameron

Groaning, I shook my aching hands out for the eighth time in half an hour. I was sitting in the empty café where I worked, waiting for the daily morning rush, while working on an essay for one of my college classes. And of course, I had waited until the last minute to do it and it was now due tomorrow. Go me.

However, I got the perfect opportunity to snap my laptop closed when the first few customers of the morning trickled in. Putting on a smile so I wouldn't look so tired, as I had been at the café at five to get it ready to open and put some much needed work into my essay, I quickly took their orders and prepared them.

More people flooded in, and I wished that someone else was here to help me out because I was not in the mood to deal with this many orders, or people, this morning. Jesus, it's like everyone knew I didn't have any help today and decided they were gonna make my morning a living hell. I thought, handing a lady her coffee and giving her a sweet, incredibly fake, smile.

It was the same for about forty more minutes; take the order, make the drink and/or bag a pastry or two, hand it to them and flash a sickly sweet smile and tell them to come back soon, repeat.

"Busy morning, eh?" Someone asked me before I could ask for their order. I looked up and was met by the prettiest pair of blue eyes I think I've ever seen. They reminded me of a watercolor painting I did a few months ago of the ocean. Watercolor Eyes looked around my age, and a small smirk played on his lips. He was cute. Very cute, actually. No, I'm not doing this. He's a random customer who I probably won't ever see again, let's leave it that way, I thought, forcing myself to take a harsh reality check.

"You have no idea," I admitted, giving him a smile. It was somewhat genuine, too, for the first time this morning. "I've been on a loop for the past hour, but the tips are good, so.."

Watercolor Eyes let out a light laugh. "I'll keep my order simple for you, don't worry. Can I get an Iced Shaken Espresso White Mocha with Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Foam? Please." As I typed in his "simple" order, I shot him a glare.

"Oh yeah. Very simple. That'll be $6.74, by the way," I said, making his jaw drop a bit.

"Are you charging me extra for that?" He accused, raising his eyebrows. I giggled slightly as his words.

"Nope. Welcome to America, buddy."

"Ha."

"Can I get a name?" I asked, remembering that last minute. Thank God I worked at a place where it was technically required to ask customers for their names, or else I totally would've chickened out and never asked. And he probably wouldn't take it too well if I put 'Watercolor Eyes' down.

"Wow. Jumping in head first, nice."

"It's my job to ask, don't get cocky on me."

"Jack."

"Great," I said, typing it into the order quickly. "I'll call you when it's ready, Jack."

"I'll be waiting," Jack said with the most smug expression ever on his face. Cocky fucker. He's lucky he's cute, I thought, rolling my eyes in annoyance even though I already knew I secretly found him amusing, before walking off to prepare his and multiple others' order.

-

As the day went on, I had pretty much gotten Watercolor Eyes/Jack out of my head completely. Which I was more than okay with.

"I'm seriously considering dropping out," Amelia, my dormmate, said as she opened the door to our dorm room. I had already been there, and was cuddled up on my bed watching The Sandlot. Pausing it, I patiently waited for her to toss her things on her side of the room and plop herself down next to me.