Hate Me Love Me

14| His Addiction 🍺

֍҉֍҉♥҉֍҉֍

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain." --- Vivian Greene.

֍҉֍҉♥҉֍҉֍

I have been fired.

On the day I had money rolling in, I lost my job.

My wonderful, caring, awesomely marvellous father actually sent me a couple hundred dollars with an email I have yet to read. And the mother of the kids I tutor, gave me my due money and said they can't afford me anymore.

I even reduced the price for them.

But it was a no.

Therefore, unknown cake shop it is.

At school, I see Alaric furrowing his eyebrows whenever somebody shouts something over at me, or throws something. I remember to always shout something back when I'm bothered, and that sort-of dims the pain.

People target me just because it's something Alaric started.

A trend, of a sort.

Like, oh, there goes Valerie. Lets say something rude to her. Lets throw this piece of garbage at her. It'll make Alaric notice us.

I leave the club room on Friday afternoon thinking am I going to walk past the art room like Wednesday?

Will I see him swirling colours around as he concentrates on the contrasts?

I slam my locker shut and shove the necessary books into my bag, mentally preparing myself for my interview at the address my Uncle wrote down for me, and bump right into the chest of some tall, buff guy with a nasty grin on his face.

'Hey,' he says in a way that suggests he's about to tell a bad joke.

'Hey,' I raise an eyebrow.

He leans his side against the locker and skims me over saying, 'I've heard redheads give the best rides.' A couple of boys behind him snicker and wait for me to react.

I smile at him sweetly and tilt my head, batting my eyelashes. 'I'll keep that in mind, blondie.'

Smiling wider at the shocked, pissed off expression on his face, I leave.

The bus ride is silent and comfortable. I get off at the address and see a popular shop decorated with red hearts, named: QUEEN OF TARTS.

There's a giant, heart-shaped tart in the display widow that my uncle undoubtedly mistook for a cake. The café/shop has a few old customers, most of them in suits, and a couple of girls giggling in the corner over a magazine I can't interpret.

There's a warm, sweet aroma that I'm starting to love, and I smile, my mood instantly lifting. A woman works behind the counter, tall, thin, and beautiful for her age. I think she's in her late thirties. She looks bored, as if she's wishing time would go faster. There're many empty tables, and most of the people haven't ordered much, other than coffee.

I walk over to the lady behind the counter and smile.

She forces a smile back, 'What can I get for you today, sweetie? Today's special is spicy strawberry tarts with lemonade. Or you could choose from the menu.' She points behind her at the large menu on the wall high behind her, and I shake my head.

'Uh, I'm here for the job interview...' I say, biting my lower lip in anticipation.

Her face instantly brightens up. Genuinely

'Oh, come right through,' pointing to an entrance at the side.

After she's asked me a couple of questions, she brings me a white apron with red, heart-shaped tarts imprinted on it, and the word PRINCESS in bold on the chest area.