Scott stood in the middle of the café, a disgruntled expression on his face as he watched the hands of the clock move slower over its face. 6:58PM and the ID was still burning a hole in his apron.
"Shocker," he drawled, sharing a half laugh with Greta who simply patted his shoulder.
"Sorry, sweetie. She'll probably come back for it tomorrow, why don't you just put it in the safe for now?" He nodded. In reality, Scott would never admit to the small flicker of disappointment that rose up in him. For some reason, he had been looking forward to seeing her again -if only to make fun of her.
The clock hands finished their nineteenth circuit around the face that day and Scott carefully keyed in the code to the safe. Then he heard the bell ring. He sighed.
Straightening up, he fashioned his lips into an amused smirk, running the ID card through his fingers. "I thought I told you not to-" He stopped, frozen at the sight in front of him.
Andie's hair was thrown about her face, her cheeks blazen red for the third time – Scott absentmindedly wondered if it was a condition – and her breath came in short little pants escaping equally cherry red lips. But she was smiling.
"Hey, déjà brew!" she greeted, causing Scott to stare at her in disbelief before she creased with laughter. "Sorry, I thought of that on the way down and you know, the whole 'showing up at close' thing," she explained, pushing ebony locks back behind her ears. Scott continued to stare.
"You are not all there," he remarked, jokingly tapping the side of his head but coming out from behind the counter nonetheless. Greta smiled as she watched the exchange, her presence seemingly forgotten. Humming to herself, she let the broom she had been holding rest against one of the tables and quietly removed herself into the stockroom, sharing a wink with the other baristas.
"That's rude," Andie pouted, straightening the strap of her bag which had seemingly been disturbed in her run. "I came all the way from a lecture just to get my ID – which you stole," she accused. Scott scoffed at this.
"I did not steal it. You forgot it and I was kind enough not to sell it on the black market," he countered, extending it to her. "Not that anyone would want it – you look about fourteen in that picture." Andie's face was a picture.
"I got it taken nearly four years ago! Times change." Still, she took it from his outstretched hand and quickly put it away, without looking at the picture. "It's only a student card anyway. Nobody asks for it."
"Someone should have asked for it last night before serving you all those shots," he insisted, earning an eye roll. "Would have saved me a lot of hassle."
"Jeez, you break one mug and all of a sudden you're the Nation's Most Wanted."
"Don't flatter yourself: Beyoncé is the Nation's Most Wanted," he quipped immediately, and Andie could only nod in agreement.
"I'll bear that in mind. If she ever leaves her ID with you, let me know," she teased, looking quickly up at the same clock that Scott had been fixated on. "Hey, look at that – I made you stay open later for me again," she pointed out, thrilled with the irritated expression on his face.
"I did not stay open late for you; the rest of the staff are still in the stock room," he defended, eyebrows furrowing. "Still, you couldn't have come any earlier?" Sighing, he untied his apron from behind his waist and gathered it into his hands.
YOU ARE READING
Bean Me Up, Scotty
Humor"Would you like some coffee with your sugar?" "Sounds like something someone with a pH of 2 would say." "Diabetic." "Acidic base." "That'll be $3.20." *** Some people think your coffee order says a lot about you. Andie Bishop takes her coffee with t...
