Simply Mia

1. Assholes and coffee

There's a girl- or woman now rather- named Mia.

No she's not a secret princess, nor does she play the cello and have a smoking hot boyfriend named Adam.

She's just Mia, Mia Rhodes. And also so bloody tired she could collapse right there in the middle of the tiny, worn down coffee shop she works at, at any given moment.

It's currently eleven forty seven and Mia is silently praying a random customer doesn't walk in right before midnight, because then, all the time she just wasted cleaning up and counting the register would be for nothing, but yah know, with her luck, some peasant will come waltzing in and order everything on the menu.

But of course she's just over exaggerating, right?

Wrong. It's happened before. And it could damn sure happen again.

So she keeps her fingers crossed, buried in the pockets of her black hoodie, silently spinning in the wooden bar stool behind the counter, counting the seconds that the way too noisy, aged wooden clock, makes.

Minutes go by, and several hundred rotations later on the bar stool, she stops.

Stops counting the seconds, stops spinning, and stops crossing her thin fingers, because the bell above the old, mahogany French doors, rings.

It's the sound she was praying would never come, but sure enough does.

Told yah.

It takes everything she has in her exhausted, aching body to even move her lips into a warm, fake- yes, very fake. so fake she wants whatever idiot who just walked through the door to know she is in no way pleased to help them or to see them- smile, and turn to face them.

Mia's eyes scan over the lengthy frame, standing in front of the door, observing the dead café.

Yes dead. Can't you see there is nobody here, so leave, leave now dude. Before she tares your eyes out.

But sure enough he doesn't.

Instead his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and move towards the girl behind the counter. Mia feels the fake smile fade, as the boy- or man rather-doesn't even try to fake a smile.

Rude.

At least Mia put effort in to trying to be falkely nice. Would it hurt him to do the same?

As he takes a step forward the floor boards creek, but he doesn't even notice. His crazy long legs seem to take ages walking to the counter, and Mia finds the want to walk over to him herself and pull him along, just so she won't have to stand here, secretly glancing at the clock that now strikes mid night- of course- and watch him walk to the counter with an emotionless, smug look on his face.

The bastard knows what he's doing.

"Can I help you?" The girl finally asks, not caring if she sounds annoyed in the least.

"I suppose you could." is his reply.

Even his lips move slow, a thick raspy English accent flows through them.

And Mia will admit that his voice and even his face are extremely attractive, but only to herself will she ever let those words be known.

But she's so annoyed right now that she could bash this shit heads head into the counter, but she wont, because that would be rude customer service.

Instead Mia opts for, "what can I help yah with?"

He leans into the counter, elbows resting atop as his rather large hand runs through his messy brown hair, "do you have coffee?"

Is he stupid or?

"Well this is a coffee shop, so I'm gonna take a wild guess and say yes?" Mia says, giving him a 'are you being serious' look.

"Good." His hands messing with the gift cards resting in the card holder, "I'll have a small cup of that."

"For here or to go?" is the question that that will decide if this asshole is just an asshole or if he's a fucking asshole.

She turns to the coffee maker, to begin making his cup, also trying to avoid his gaze, but with him still not answering her question, Mia's curiosity gets the best of her and she glances back over her shoulder at him.

Mistake. Big fucking mistake.

His smug look is plastered on his face once again, and she knows his answer before it even falls from his lips.

"Here." The man says, but the girl has already turned her attention back to the coffee maker, too preoccupied, and bloody pissed at him to even notice the smirk dancing across his cherry lips.