How to Rebel in Three Months

Step Two: Have Someone Take You Under Their Wing

Step Two: Have Someone Take You Under Their Wing

It's a full three days until I hear from Aiden again. The trauma of watching icky yellow bile hit the edges of my favourite skirt was enough to make me decide that I didn't actual need to learn how to be more outgoing before university. And so, I was just going about my daily life, working, watching Netflix, and reading way too many cheesy romances when Aiden stomped back in to mess things up.

It was a work, during my longest shift of the week. I'd been working since noon, and it was seven o'clock. The only saving grace of working this shift was that since it was a Saturday and the beginning of summer, only a few people wanted coffee, and they only came in for rush hour. So for the most part of the day, I was allowed to sit in the back with my discount coffee and muffin and read until my eyes hurt. But of course, Aiden had to walk in just as I was getting into my book.

Right when things were getting intense between the heroine and the antagonist, the cutesy little bell above the front door rang and heavy footsteps dragged themselves towards the counter. I didn't worry too much, because the delightful old lady I worked with, Beverly, was at the front counter anyway. But not even a second later, she dashed into the back and whisper-yelled, "That right there out front is a pretty damn attractive young man! You, young lady, need to get your cute little butt out there and serve him!"

That was Beverly's fatal flaw. She was constantly trying to set me up because, as she put it, I 'needed to get a man before worrying about becoming old a grey like her'. So every time a guy who was alive and semi age appropriate entered the building, she made me go serve him. It was futile to resist. So I sighed, stood, and went to face the music.

And there he was. Standing at the counter, looking like a zombie. That had been run over my a truck. On fire.

He was a bit of a mess, in short.

He was wearing sweatpants, a white tank top, and it looked like he hadn't slept, bathed, or even looked in a mirror since the last time I saw him. He didn't look up when I managed to overcome my fear and reach the counter. I had to fake cough four or five times before he even managed to say, "Coffee. Black. And a muffin."

I tried to be as silent as I could while pouring a large mug and ringing his order through. He didn't specify which muffin he wanted, but I didn't want to risk him looking up at me, so I just grabbed one at random. I told him his total, four-ninety-nine, in a kind of a calm voice, and I was almost in the clear when he suddenly looked up and made eye contact with me.

His eyes were really bloodshot, and my first thought was 'he must be really hungover'. My next through was a lot of mumbo jumbo brought on by the fact that he was maintaining eye contact with me, a mere mortal. It was mildly overwhelming. So much so that I didn't hear him the first time he spoke.

"Hey, you're that girl from the party, right?" it was the hint of a smirk in his tone that made me think he'd repeated it. I nodded dumbly.

"It was pretty cool of you to get me home, I guess," again with the nodding.

"No offense,  but do you actually speak?"

I coughed and cleared my throat, and produced absolutely no coherent words. He ignored my attempt and carried on, "Anyway, you didn't really look like you knew what you were doing there. To be honest, you looked like the type of person who would drink the punch by accident."

I didn't say anything, but I did scowl. Aiden didn't seem to notice as he carried on, "In fact, you kind of looked like you needed someone to help you out and make sure you didn't end up dead in a dark alleyway."

I coughed.

"So I figured that since you got me home safely, I'd give you a hand in figuring out parties."

He looked so proud of himself, so goddamn smug, that I couldn't help but blurt out, "Oh, and you were in such great shape yourself. At least I know who drove my home. At least I could have gotten home on my own! I don't need or want your help!"

He smiled hugely, "It does speak! And you clearly did need my help. What were you even wearing that night? Like, forget everything you did wrong at the actual party. What were you thinking when you got dressed?"

My scowl deepened and I called to the back, "Beverly, I'm taking my break! Can you come finish up with this customer?"

Beverly emerged from the back and whispered to me, "Sorry sweetcheeks, really thought this one would be a winner."

I tried not to roll my eyes as I stormed off to the back with another discount muffin. I tired to block out Aiden's dumb voice as he called after me, "Like it or not, I'm taking you under my wing, sweetcheeks!"

With a growl, I slammed the door separating the store front from the back office.

* * *

Aiden Reeves looked down at him coffee and blueberry-raspberry muffin and smiled. He smiled the whole time the pleasant old woman in front of him took his money and he smiled as he told her to put the change in the girl's tip jar. Then he smiled as he walked out of the store and across the street to wait on a bench in the park. All in all, the girl was not the worst prospect. He could work with her. By the time he was done, she would barely recognize herself. In a good way.