Sweet Rush

Twenty Six

My fury had grown from last night and I'm uncertain how I was able to suppress it for almost two hours watching the beautiful yet mucked up story of Love Jones. Jane had made attempts to make the night last longer but with what I had witnessed, I couldn't play it cool any longer.

With his clothes cladded on my body, the ride home was stiff and Jane did all he could to console me during my time of 'PMSing'.

Last night I realized that there wasn't any point in carrying this on any longer than it should be. He'll be leaving soon and running around with his ex, Camila in Los Angeles, forgetting me in a heartbeat. I can't believe that I'd trust Jane's words about not being worried. He also told me that he wanted me knowing that he truly wants someone else. I guess he wants me to be his New York muse but I won't let that happen.

Another notification populates on my screen from Jane.

9 missed calls.

I wish Jane could take a hint and not bother me. I rather just make my exit out of his life silently instead of wasting my energy on someone who never even really cared. I shift my attention to getting ready for work. I had called in and pushed my shift back about an hour and a half given the time that I had been out last night. Now that I'm on the morning shift, I need to be very mindful of my sleep schedule that had already been set in motion, having been on the 2 am shift for as long as I could remember. I let in a refreshing breath when I recognize that Jane wouldn't be here today or ever. Everything would be back to normal like before- well as normal as it could be given that my ex boss's boss saw me making out with my boss.

The bus is right on time and I climb in taking a seat near the window. The tattered New York scenery whips by and I plug my ears for another form of entertainment. My phone vibrates on my lap and I peer down to see another text from Jane. Ugh.

He hits me up like he actually cares.

To solve this dilemma, I mute his contact.

When I arrive at work, the sun begins to peek through the solid grey clouds imperceptibly illuminating the city before I walk through the doors of Pritchard's.

Just like I expected the place was dreary with no rush and purpose. This widely contrasted what I was used to, coming in at the start of my shift and already perspiring from the heat. The scenery now mimicked a coffee shop on a Saturday morning which is never a comparison I would've thought to make prior to this.

I get to doing whatever I can do at this point. I see that some of the liquor needed restocking and approach that task to pass the time. A few older gentlemen came in for an afternoon fix probably trying to ease the stress from their high-rise building cooperate job. Two blonde besties order rounds for about two hours leaving me concerned for their safety but I retreat to being a none judgmental Gen Z when I catch myself going too deep into thought.

Around close to four the pace starts to pick up, previewing what the night's going to look like. I picked up extra hours since I pushed my shift back but also because there's no point in going home early. It's almost the end of my shift and I'm exhausted from the utter boredom of the morning shift. I glance at the clock.

Fifteen minutes left.

Thank God.

" Clean Whiskey." the familiar voice sneaks up on me, coming from my left side.

"You're not even old enough to drink." I snap, walking away so he can take a hint and leave me alone.

"I see you're still PMSing." he says smugly, very oblivious to the fact that I'm not going through a hormonal imbalance and I will probably never ever speak to him again.