Red Shoes, Black Coffee (Red & Black #2)

20 | Soy milk

Jed

I spilled normal milk in a soy latte. Again.

It's the third one already today. And I'm not even halfway my day. If this keeps up, I'm going to lose my job very fast.

"Rough night?" Carla's voice sounds from behind my shoulder. I turn, spotting her looking at me with an arched brow.

I move my head in a gesture that is neither a nod nor a shake. Carla's partly right. Only it wasn't the night that was rough but the morning. Since the very moment Ada found me shirtless in the living room, the tension between us was unfathomable. And later, after I'd dragged my sorry ass out of the living room and closed myself in the bathroom, I was even more pathetic.

Ada had forgotten about her razor and left it in the shower. I stared at it for five minutes. Like an utter creep.

And later, when I finally stepped out of that damn shower, I noticed her toothbrush in the cup, right next to mine. I expected her to hide everything in her bag, anxious to leave even a hair band anywhere in my apartment. Turns out, I was wrong.

The razor was most probably overlooked, but the toothbrush... I like to think she'd left it there on purpose.

And staring at it this morning, I decided I could get used to that sight. Of two toothbrushes in my cup, one beside another. Because for this tiny second, my little studio finally felt like... home.

I missed that feeling. Have been missing it for a while.

Carla clears her throat, bringing me back to presence. I blink and struggle to remember the question she had asked me before I lost contact with reality.

"Something like that." I mutter under my breath. Setting down the milk container, I offer the coffee to Carla. "Want some?"

"No, thank you." She says slowly. "I got fed up after the second one."

I scowl at her. True, she did drink the last two coffees I screwed up, but what I don't get is what in the world seems so funny to her.

She's been wearing that Mona Lisa smirk all day, and I have no idea why.

Deciding it's better to let it slip for now, I glance at the cup in front of me helplessly.

"Do you think whoever ordered it will notice?" I ask Carla.

Her hazel gaze sweeps the shop, stopping on someone sitting at the table up against the far wall. Her eyes narrow in time with her lips stretching up in a slow smile. "Judging by those noodle legs and the waist the width of a beer glass, she's an expert on soy milk and all that vegan shit." Carla says.

I can't help but feel astonished. Every client Carla serves, she remembers. Somehow, she knows where everyone sits, what they look like, and what they ordered. Now, it's not like I don't pay any attention to who I sell coffee to. I do. I smile, I chat, sometimes even flirt. But the moment the person steps away from the counter, I just... forget. Carla keeps them all in mind. I don't have the slightest idea how she does it, but it sure is admirable.

And then here I am, mistaking kinds of milk like an idiot.

I sigh protractedly, bowing my head forward. Grabbing the cup, I move to the right and spill its contains in the sink. In silence, I turn on the water and watch as it mixes with the beige color of coffee, washing it down. A sudden urge to splash the cold water over my face overtakes me, but I abandon the idea, knowing there are people in the shop. People who might be slightly disturbed by that way of acting.

"Better take whatever has crawled up your ass and shove it out." Carla murmurs, sneaking up on me in that creepy way of hers again. "You've got a client."