I Cant Tell.

Him.

As I reached the bottom of the steps, I seen mason sitting on the leather couch by the door, reading a magazine.

"You ready Mia?"

"Nope, I only walked all the way from the 30th floor to tell you I wasn't ready." I said in a sarcastic tone, giving him a "No duh" look.

He mumbled something as he held the door open for me, but I couldn't make out what he said. We hailed a cab and got in. Mason told the driver to stop at Starbucks first, since it was on the way. We talked a bit about what he still had to do, finish some deal about money I guess. Somebody thinks we should sell the farm and all the animals on it. Of course we won't, Mason and I still want to keep it. Greyson, out cousin, on the other hand, does not. He's felt its just a waste of time ever since mom and dad died. As we pulled up in front of the horrendous coffee shop, I mentally prepared myself for the social interaction. I really hated situations that involve contact with people, honestly. It takes a whole lot of effort to be happy around them, and that's exhausting for one to deal with.I told my brother goodbye and the cab, once again, drove off into the stork of people that fill Times Square. I took a deep breath, put a smile on my face, and entered. The overwhelming smell of coffee hit you as soon as you crack open the door. When you're inside it doesn't seem bad, but once you go back behind all the coffee makers, it starts to become quite nauseating.

"Mia!!! Honey come on, your shift is about to start!" My "friend" Eleanor called out to me, seeming way too happy for it being 8:30 a.m..

I made my way behind the counter and began immediately making some coffee orders that were waiting. I wouldn't necessarily call her a friend, more like somebody who doesn't irritate me as much as everybody else normally does, she's very stereotypical though. Bright blonde hair, way too blonde to be natural. She's kind of short, probably about five foot three and she isn't super model skinny, but I wouldn't say she's thick either. She's actually gorgeous and has a funny attitude, which I guess could be the reason I get along with her. She asked me to tale over the register for a while since she's been on it all day. I nod, telling her the drink I was working on, and take my place behind the counter just waiting for the next economy consumed customer to waltz through that door. It isn't five minutes before he does. A tall guy with dark, messy, brown hair and deep brown eyes strolls gtacfullt through the front door. He was wearing a blue button up and blue ripped jeans. The way he moves is enchanting, like he owns the place. He walked up to the counter and stared IP at the menu above me for moment, then began to speak. Little did I know that would be the most normal moment I would have for a while.