Can I Come Over?

5:Taking the Bad with the Good Looking

I threw the cover back and jumped out of bed. Grabbing my jasmine and white clay body wash in one hand I rushed to the bathroom. My bare feet padded against the tile floor until I finally reached the white painted peeling door. I tried to turn the knob but when the door didn't budge I knew it was occupied. My right foot instinctively tapped the floor, a sure tell that I was getting impatient.

Of course the bathroom was being used. It was just my luck, on my very first day of work I was going to be late. I knew I shouldn't have relied on that old phone as an alarm clock. I brought my hand up to the door and began to bang on the old wood. The door shook on its hinges but whoever was inside didn't seem to care because they didn't even offer a response. 

I ran back to my room and went to the small closet, throwing shirt after shirt from the hangers.

"Where is it?" I shouted. My frustrations were starting to get the best of me and it was showing. My first shift at Cool Beans and I was going to be late. I looked under the bed, behind my bookcase, and even through the few clothes still hanging in the closet. After what seemed like an hour, but was really only five minutes, I saw the red cotton shirt peeking out from the middle of my mattress and box spring.

How in the world did it get there?

Instead of dwelling on the case of the walking shirt I grabbed the shirt and threw it on before picking up my toothbrush and trying the bathroom one more time. I banged on the door, this time harder than before. Within the next thirty seconds the door flew open, revealing a drained looking Katie. Her appearance told me she had been up all night with her "friends". 

"Excuse me," I said moving past her and into the cramped bathroom. She stared at me through the mirror but I pretended as if she wasn’t there. Secretly it was all I was focusing on. She’d never looked at me like she was now. It wasn’t like her usual dissatisfied glare, but something-- warmer almost.

Once I spit out the minty foam I grabbed my hairbrush and ran it through my chestnut hair before wrapping a hair tie around it. When I did look back to where Kati was standing she was still staring at me.

“You look so much like your father right now,” she said, a distant look in her eyes. My breath caught in my throat at the tone she had spoken in and the thought she was having about my father. Her eyes widened at her confession, as if she’d never meant for it to ever leave the gates of her thoughts. She broke the eye contact we’d been sharing and looked around the bathroom before walking out. My mind knew I was going to be late for work if I didn’t leave right away but my intense surprise kept me grounded.

She’d never liked to talk about him after his death. When I was a child and I asked her to tell me stories I saw how much it hurt but she’d still tell me. One year after his death she’d met Terry and all reflections of him where erased from everywhere but my mind. That was Terry, jealous even of a ghost. He’d made her get rid of all pictures, clothes, everything that’d possibly help me remember him.

“You’re dad’s dead. Get over it, I’m your daddy now, little girl,” I remembered him telling me. Even at nine I could tell he would be trouble.

I blinked away the thought and went to grab a jacket from my closet before leaving the house. I closed the front door but noticed that I hadn’t seen Katie on my way out. Maybe I’d get a chance to talk to her later. She might even be sober enough to say something honest again. I started my walk down the street to the city bus stop.

It was true, what she’d said. From what I remembered I had my father’s hair, nose and personality. At least that’s what my grandpa used to say. He’d say it with that same look in his eyes that my mother had in the bathroom; and something about being strong and stubborn, staying solid when everything around me was crumbling. I think they’d been referring to my father’s battle with cancer that made him always say that.

Finally I stopped at the post and waited along with the five other waiting riders. It was already ten A.M so the early morning passengers had been long gone. I was grateful to hear the loud engine of the big white and blue bus turning the corner before stopping in front of the post. Once I was on the bus and everyone else had either gotten on or left the bus, we jerked to a start. It had only taken twenty minutes to get to the post on Granger Boulevard, my stop. I hopped off the bus and began the two block walk to the café.

I’d wanted to work in another neighborhood, so it was at thirty minutes away from home but only ten away from Brandon and Luke’s place. Finally, I recognized the strong aroma of coffee beans and pastries. I opened the heavy glass door and a ding above the door announced my arrival. The small café was decorated with a homey but modern feel. There were people scattered around the room preoccupied with cell phones, laptops and engrossed in books. Behind the counter there were pictures of what looked like customers shaking hands with Matt and another man, and a glass display with different pastries.

I went up to the counter and rang the small silver bell.

A guy behind the counter with spiked brown hair came from behind a hanging bead curtain. He wore a smile showcasing his perfect with teeth. He had moss green colored eyes and wore the same red shirt that I was wearing. He was gorgeous.

“Hi! You must be…Lily?” he guessed.

“Yep, that’s me,” I said, putting on my own smile and holding out my hand.

He vigorously shook it, “Adam, welcome to our little family at Cool Beans,” he said before letting my hand go.

“It’s nice to be here, you look a lot like Matt,” I commented. He pulled up a compartment of the counter and let me through.

“He’s my younger brother. We actually started this business together,” he told me. Oh, that made sense. The only difference between them was that Matt had grey eyes.

“So do you know how to work an espresso machine?” he asked.

“Um, no…” I trailed off. Oh great, why hadn’t I thought of looking online for how to work coffee machines? My first day and I was going to be fired for being incompetent.

“I see that look, don’t worry. It’s not a problem,” he said with a smile. For the next hour he trained me in the coffee machines they had and a variety of drinks I might be asked to make.

“See, you’re a natural,” he complimented. “Oh thanks,” I said tucking a loose strand behind my ear.

I heard the ding above the door and saw a guy with yet another identical shirt as Adam and I. Only, his muscular build made him look a whole lot better. His blonde hair was spiked up a bit but still held together in a messy style and his golden eyes were beautiful but held annoyance. He sent a glare in my direction. I blinked back, obviously surprised, as he continued to walk through the bead curtain.

“That’s Dylan. He has some issues…but he’s a good kid.” Adam told me. “Hey here’s a customer,” he said before heading through the curtain.

“Welcome to Cool Beans, may I offer you a fresh blueberry scone?” I greeted.

The woman looked tired and irritated. “Get me my usual. Vanilla cappuccino, half skim milk, a bit of two percent milk with half a teaspoon of caramel syrup, two shots of caffeine, and a cinnamon stick, warmed to 95 degrees exactly and whipped cream on top.”

My mouth hung open. I had lost track of her order after the caramel syrup. She handed me her exact money and went to take a seat at a leather love seat.

“Excuse me ma’am, could you repe—,”

“Never ask her to repeat her order, she’ll go ape shit on you,” a voice behind me commented. I turned to see Dylan leaning against the door post watching me.

“But I didn’t get her order,” I told him. He rolled his eyes before kicking off the wall and towards the machines. He went to work filing the whole order.

“Order up, Ms. Jasper,” he called out. The woman stood from the seat and grabbed her drink and headed out the door, but not before shooting a dirty look my way.

“I could have handled some of that order,” I told him, narrowing my eyes.

He shook his head slightly before mumbling a “whatever” and moving to the opposite end of the counter.

Although he wasn’t the nicest I was silently thanking Dylan for his help. I really hoped every order wasn’t as complex or my head might just explode.