Bad Boys, Coffee, And Other Things That Are Hot

~Chapter One~

~Chapter One~

Average.

That was the first word that popped into my head as I studied myself in the mirror. I pressed my hands onto the edge of the bathroom counter and leaned forwards slightly. My skin was ashen and my blonde hair hung down to my waist, making me look washed out; my nose was small and button-like; and my lips a salmon pink, but always chapped nonetheless. My eyes were my only prominent feature. They were this dark shade of blue that stood out amongst my pale face.

“Bryn?”

I leaned back to peer around the corner and saw Dad leaning against my bedroom doorframe. Dad was in his early forties; he had dark brown hair and blue eyes that matched my own. He was a forensic pathologist, which is a medical doctor who conducts autopsies to determine a cause of death. Kind of gruesome, I know, but he makes sure not to bring his work home with him.

“Yeah?” I answered, walking back into my room. 

“I’ll be working late again tonight so I probably won’t be home until after you’re asleep. There’s money on the counter for dinner tonight. Have a good day at school and make good choices,” he said, pressing his thumb to his lips and then to my forehead.

“Dang, then I better call Kendall back and tell her to cancel the male strippers and kegger,” I replied sarcastically, shooing him out.

He chuckled from behind the door and I waited until I heard his footsteps fade away from heading to my closet. I pulled out a pair faded jeans, a flannel, a leather jacket, and boots and put them on. Then, I hauled ass to The Drip ‘n’ Sip. Lucky for me, it was only two blocks away.

  

Mondays were insufferable.

They are the only days where my work and class schedules conflicted. The minute my two-hour shift at The Drip ‘n’ Sip ends, my first period economics class starts. Whether I leave work early to get to class on time or arrive to class tardy in order to keep my job, I'm reprimanded. Not only that, but I have to work the morning shift, meaning I'm stuck serving irritable workaholics who are in desperate need of caffeine.

  

"You're late," Kate, a coworker of mine, said, scowling at me as I tied on the light brown apron.

"Thank you for that interesting piece of knowledge. Now, do you want me to pull out that stick up your ass or would you like to do that yourself?" I retorted, walking behind the cash register.

  

Kate gaped at me and, after coming to the realization that she had no comeback, stalked away angrily. I rolled my eyes at her theatrics. We have gone through this almost every day since I began working here so you would think that she would just leave me alone already, but no.

After a well-deserved lull in the hard-to-please customers, the bells attached to the front door jingled. I looked up uninterested. A man about my age stood in front of me, scrutinizing the menu above me. He was tall with short blonde hair, grey eyes, and a square jaw. He wore a simple white t-shirt, dark jeans, and Vans. 

"Hi, what can I get you?" I asked. 

He looked down at me and shot me a lopsided grin. "I'll have a coffee. Black."