I'm Your Enemy (Gilbert Blythe X OC)

Jocks

I wipe the counters quickly before I get to making the tea that was ordered. The café is packed with customers, and I'm working alone even though it was mine and Ron's shift, but he decided that napping was more important than helping me. 

"Hey, Beautiful." I look at the door and immediately cringe at the sight. My eyes widen in shock, but I hide it pretty well, and pretend not to know them instead.

"Ahem." I clear my throat. "Hi. Welcome to 'Baked Goods' How can I help you?" I ask as politely as I can. 

"I'd like to order a day in your bed." He leans on the counter. His name is Dawson, and his three friends behind him are Tim, Gust and Fangs. Ron told me about them. apparently they are trouble and I should try to keep myself away from them. They came a few days ago with the same disgusting flirting. I had to get Ron to kick them out, but it seems like they didn't get the hint.

"No, thank you. I'm not into jocks." I blankly face them. I get the tea and circle around the counter. I approach my customer and put the tea on her table. "Here's your order Mrs. Aubern."

"Thank you, dear. I'll make sure to leave a good tip." 

I smile at her. "That's generous of you. It'll be appreciated." I walk back behind the counter, disappointed to see the four faces still standing there. 

"I see. You're playing hard to get." Dawson looks me up and down, biting his lower lip.

"No. I'm not playing anything. I simply am hard to get." I turn to next customer. "How can I help you, Mr. Cortez?"

"I would like a Lemon tart and a cup of coffee."

"On its way. Please take a seat." 

He smiles and sits down on one of the many tables. I start cutting a slice of the lemon tart.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Give me two minutes and you'll be kissing my feet, begging me to take you home." His mates laugh at his remark. 

"Oh yeah?" I ask.

This is going to end well.

"Oh yeah." He nods. I laugh and nod as well.

"Okay." I say.

"'Okay' What?"

"I'll give you two minutes to have me begging for you to take me home." Let's see how this ends.

"Uhhh." He looks at his friends, flustered. One of them- Fangs, I assume, because of the two large, pointed teeth in his mouth that are clearly visible- laughs at how flustered his friend is. Then Dawson looks back at me. "I can make you feel good. You see, I'm very good at those things." All of a sudden he waves his hand in front of my face. "You see these? These fingers would work wonders on someone like you. Or should I say in someone like you." 

"Wow. You win. Take me home." I blankly answer. I get back to work, pouring coffee into a mug, adding sugar and cream. "Ron!!" I shout from the counter. His sleepy eyes peek at me as he walks down the stairs, slowly and lazily putting his apron on. "Get these to Mr. Cortez's table." I tell him.

He stares at me blankly. Lazy eyes piercing into my soul. "Bossy." He mumbles before taking the tray and taking it to the customer's table, faking a smile exactly like Mr. Hawks trained us to do.

I turn back to the black haired boy. "Sorry, Dawson. I'm not interested." I tell them, truthfully. His mates laugh behind him.

"You got rejected, man." Gust wheezes, holding his stomach from loss of oxygen. 

"Nah. I know girls like you." He points at me. "You like to tease. You do want me. You're just being too much of a wuss to confess it."

"Or... maybe you're just too much of a wuss to confess that you just got rejected." I answer.

"What's the problem?" Ron appears at my side.

"Get them outside." I need them out of here before I jump on one of them and peel their skin off of their faces. Ron chuckled and circled the counter to meet the jocks, but when they saw him, they ran straight out the door. "Finally." I gasp with relief. I sit on my stool, happy to have a little time to sit down and not run around to take orders or having to deal with sexually desperate men.

"So this is where you work." The bells jingle above the door and my attention turns to the blonde leaning against it.

Forget what I just said.

"Billy?" My eyes widen. I straighten my apron and stand up from my stool. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, the other day you told me you work here, so I came to visit." He finally walks in and sits down on one of the bar stools in front of the counter. I smile at him. I actually smile. He came to visit me. One thing that never happens is when something -someone- makes me feel special. But... I guess that's changing. Could it really be?

"Can I get you something, Mr. Andrews?" I ask him. He looks at me for a moment, contemplating. "On the house." I reassure him.

"I'd love a cup of coffee, Miss Thompson." 

with a smile on my face, I get right back to coffee making. I put the coffee in front of him on the counter. I catch him looking at me. Like, actually looking at me. The look someone gives somebody who they feel things for. The 'you look like an angel' look. Or the 'I can't live without you' look. Or the 'I want to kiss you' look. I can go on and on.

"Who do you think you're looking at like that?" I question, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dart deeper. Up and down my apron- no. My body. He's looking at my body. The bump that hovers over my chest. My breasts. The curve of my sides. My hips.

"You." He answers in a deep, low tone. "I'm looking at you, Florence."