Repeated Encounters

Chapter 6: The First (Proper) Conversation

*3rd person Paul POV*

Once again, it was time for coffee. As he entered his beloved coffee shop and approached the counter, he could see Emma talking to another of the workers. She looked pretty annoyed. As he got closer, what he heard only confirmed that. It seemed to be something to do with the singing. That was a new thing that had been happening lately. He didn't usually stay long, though, so he had only experienced it a couple of times. From just that he could tell why Emma hated it.

"Don't even bother turning up for your next shift." Wait, what?

"I'll do the singing."

'Oh thank god', Paul thought.

"Move your ass, you got a line." Well, that would presumably be the boss. The one that brought the singing. Paul immediately decided that he didn't like her. After that, Emma turned around. Paul smiled awkwardly at her. She did the same back.

"Hi, can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, I got an easy one for you. Just a cup of black coffee." She said nothing, but proceeded to make a cup of coffee. To be nice, Paul decided to tip her, completely unbeknownst to what started the argument between her and her boss.

"Jesus, really?!" What is happening? What is this? "I've been brewing up your coffee!"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no! Uh, I'm sorry. No, I don't need you to sing. I just tipped because, you know, people should tip."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I mean, cause if I have to sing for it, it's not really a tip, right? It's just like I have another shitty paying job on top of my already shitty paying job! 'Cause, I mean, most of my tips are less than a buck?" Wow. Paul didn't expect it to be that low. People really suck. "So after the split, I'm making, like, not even 25 cents a song. That is less than a fucking jukebox!" And she had to split it with other people too! No wonder she never looked very happy at her job. "Only a jukebox doesn't also have to make coffee for these assholes." Thanks. "Uh, not that you're an asshole." Oh, thanks. "Well, maybe you are." Great. "What'd you tip? Five bucks! You meant this just for me, right? Like, I don't have to split this with anyone?"

"Oh, no, that's for you, I don't give a shit about them." Emma laughed at him. This made him happy.

"That's very sweet. God, I'm so sick of Nora and *Zoey* who is technically my manager, even though she is ten years younger than me. Ugh. She hired all of her little theatre friends and they will not shut the fuck up about some shitty production of Godspell they did last summer."

"Oh, that was the one at the rec centre, right? I think I had to see that." Forced. Again.

"Oh."

"I did not like it." That damn musical was so bad!

"Yeah! It sucked, right?" Damn straight.

"Yeah, yeah, they shouldn't call it 'Godspell.' More like 'God-awful.'" That was terrible.

"Yeah. Or, like, 'God-damn-that-was-bad.'"

"Yeah!" Paul laughed. "I don't like musicals." Emma nodded. Paul didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He hoped it was the former. "Watching people sing and dance makes me very uncomfortable."

"Oh. Well, then why did you come to the singing coffee shop? You know, there's a Starbucks across the street." Ah, shit.

"Oh, uh, well, you know, some things are worth it." Shit. That was not the best thing to say. Especially since she looked at me weirdly. "Like, damn good coffee." Paul took a sip to emphasise his point. The coffee was so bad. They thumbs-upped each other, both knowing he was talking bullshit.

"I see you in here all the time, don't I? What's your name?"

"Paul."

"Hi, Paul. I'm Emma." Of course, Paul knew this already. He also knew by this point that Emma had no idea who he was and clearly didn't remember him from those two encounters in high school.

"Excuse me!" Who the fuck was this? Emma looked annoyed at him while Paul just looked confused. "I have been waiting a very long while!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Ok, uh, bye Emma." Emma completely ignored him. Paul left the shop. "Oh, shoot, I forgot Bill's caramel frappe. Eh, fuck Bill." Paul just hoped Bill wasn't listening when he said he'd get him something.