The Path Between the Stars

Chapter Three

~3~

2018

Brooke

I'm balancing six hot coffees as I trudge across the busy intersection from the bustling café nearest work. With a company as big as the one I work for, there's no shortage of breakrooms with coffee pots going 24/7 on every floor. Caffeinated and Decaf. Half and half and flavored creamers. Sugar and aspartame substitutes. It's a coffee lover's dream.

But Clayton doesn't drink that stuff.

No. He has to have the fancy brew from across the street. He has to have it half-caff, sugar-free, and foamed to perfection, like a little legging-wearing sorority bitch. I gasp as my toe dips into a divot in the street and I nearly stumble forward. One of the overly-filled to-go cups sloshes out amber-hued coffee, despite the little green plastic stopper that's supposed to stay the liquid. It burns my hand; the pain is sharp and radiates up my arm. "Damn it!" I mutter, wanting to scream instead of restraining myself.

And, of course, when Clayton asked me to get him a fancy-ass coffee, he'd asked everyone in the meeting if they'd wanted one too. Thus, the six steaming cups. Thus, me on my second trip back and forth, trying not to get killed by an unyielding cab as I do my 'job'.

I avoid the revolving door this time, opting to hook my shoe in the handle of the regular door and pull it open enough to lean forward and crook an elbow into the gap I've made. It wasn't easier than simply walking through the spinning entrance, but it was safer. On my first trip, it had been moving too fast again and I'd dumped one cappuccino all over the foyer as I'd stumbled out.

I am so damn graceful. Two trips for coffee and twice I've nearly busted my butt.

"Need a hand, Brooke?" Jerome, one of the security guys, is walking toward me, hands already outstretched to take a few of the cups away. I allow him to, gratefulness plastered across my face. He'd been really sweet the first trip too, when I'd nearly gone down in a blaze of coffee-covered glory. He'd even helped the janitors clean up my mess so I could get the coffee upstairs before it cooled. I'd apologized the entire way from the entrance to the elevator.

"You are a lifesaver," my voice is more exhausted-sounding than I expect it to be.

"Having a bad day?" He smiles, that wide lipped grin of his, which makes his teeth stand out incredibly white against his dark lips.

"This is a normal day unfortunately," I groan, realizing that I still have one more trip across the street to go before I've filled everyone's order.

"I will never understand the obsession people seem to have with complicated coffee. Pumpkin this and hazelnut that. Flat white and frappes. Give me a cup of breakfast blend with a couple cubes of sugar and I'm a happy camper." Jerome is walking me to the elevator and I could kiss him for being such a gentleman. Although, I wouldn't actually since I'm not the type of girl to be bold. Ever.

"Exactly how I feel. Although, I will admit to having a little French press at home. That's about as fancy as I get." Inside the elevator, I shift the cups I'm still carrying to take back the ones Jerome is holding."

"I can ride with you up?" There's a flirtatious lilt to his voice. At least, I think there is.

"Are you allowed to leave the desk?" I feel like it's an odd thing to ask, like I'm questioning if he knows how to do his own job. "I mean, will you get in trouble?"

"I might." He shrugs a little, his expression mischievous. Then I know he's flirting with me, but I don't know quite how to respond. It's been a long time since I've been hit on—unless I counted Clayton's unwanted advances. And truth be told, I've been here for months and this is the first time Jerome and I have spoken more than two words to one another. I see him once or twice a day, sometimes more if I'm running errands. He's always kind and polite. I even think he's handsome, but the reality is- he's just another stranger in the city.