thinking of you

scene one: a coffeeshop

Oliver is a dick.

"Sorry," He mouths, as he sharp-shoes it into the back room like a frickin bullet under the pretence of fetching some more coffee beans.

"I hate you," I hiss in his general direction, provoking his familiar laugh. Rolling my eyes, I turn to face yet another 'difficult customer'.

Working in a coffee shop, you soon are able to tell the difference between the average coffee shop-goer and the dreaded 'difficult customer'.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" I ask the man, plastering on a fake smile. He grins back, and I feel my heart sink a little.

Opening with the deceptively simple "Oh, I'll just have a..." he then proceeds to tell me exactly how he wants his extra-hot triple-shot half-skim half-whole milk mochaccino with an extra shot of caramel.

"Right away, sir," I say through gritted teeth. Oliver owes me big time.

♥

Ten minutes later Oliver decides it's safe to come out; but of course not until after I've served an office worker who must've drawn the short straw and had to go out to collect eighteen orders of hot chocolate. All customized.

"You're possibly the worst co-worker ever." I inform him, to which he grins sheepishly. "No, seriously. You can't keep abandoning me the second you spy a difficult- ARGH!"

Glancing down, I see that my hand has struck the apple cider steamer wand, and is now covered in a vicious red welt.

I say some choice words, as I run over to the sink to stick my hand under the cold water.

"Excuse me, but I don't think that sort of language is appropriate for a workplace," There's a group of snarky tweenagers stood behind the counter, sniggering away.

I've got some choice words for them to.

"Alright, feisty-pants, take it easy," Oliver says in his usual unfazed manner. I fix him with a dirty look.

"Well, if someone put the bloody death wand away over there," I shoot back, and he laughs. Sometimes I wonder how he even got this job.

And then I remember the fact that his dad owns the place.

Glancing at the clock, I do a mental fist-pump. After shutting off the tap, I whirl around to face Oliver, where I see that he's miming the Avada-Kedavra curse at my back using the steamer wand, much to the woman and toddler behind the counter's amusement.

"I'm afraid I have to leave you to fend for yourself, young grasshopper," I tell him, to which he immediately adopts a pouty face.

"Your shift doesn't end for another hour," He says as I snatch the wand from his hand, making a big show of slotting it back in the stand.

"It does today. I've got someplace to be," I grin at him.

"Auditions?" He questions, raising his eyebrows as I shrug off my apron and hang it up on the back wall.

"Nope, they were last week, but points for trying." I laugh nervously. "No, this week we find out who gets what part."

"Oooh, exciting." Oliver just shakes his head, setting his auburn curls bouncing across his forehead in that way that drives most girls mad. Not me though. Knowing him as long as I have, I can still remember when those swoon-worthy locks were styled into a sweeping fringe and dyed black: known to most as his short-lived 'punk' phase. "Good luck,"

"Thanks," I call over my shoulder.

"Erm, Jodie?" He calls to me, and I turn. He holds up my outdated IPod. "Forgetting something?"

I laugh as I jog back over, leaning over the counter to grab it from his hand.

"Is your playlist ready?" I ask. One of the perks of our job is that we can choose the music, as long as it meets certain criteria. Oliver just nods, distracted by the small child that is gnawing on the counter and the coffee he's making.

"Yep. 'Starfuckers' is ready to go."

♥ ☂ ♥ ☂ ♥

a/n - hey guys:)

so this is my little take on the cute coffeeshop story, with a little twist;)

all the chapters will be around this length, and it's going to involve quite a bit of humour:)

let me know what you guy's think, I love getting your comments:)