Numbers || Andy Biersack

chapter nineteen

I pushed the door open to the coffee shop Rhys worked at, being greeted by the smell of espresso beans. Tonight, Rhys and I were going to see his friend's band perform at a local show. I had dressed in a pair of tight black skinny jeans, black Toms, and a white band tank top. It had been a while since I'd been to a concert, and I was pretty excited. The last time I'd been to a show--the night I'd met Andy--was stuck in my mind. I couldn't wait to replace that memory with a new one.

Walking quickly towards the counter, I scanned the coffee shop. It was pretty quiet, as it usually was in the evening, with only a few people sipping beverages and typing on their laptops. Rhys was distracted, cleaning the espresso machine.

By the time I was nearing the counter, he looked up and caught my eye, his gaze brightening and a smile pulling at his roseate lips. He looked so cute when he was working. Rhys' hair was tamed, due to his manager's strict policies. (He always would ruffle it back into a chaotic disarray as soon his shift was over.) He wore a black polo with a green apron slung sloppily over it. Marker ink stained his fingertips, the result of quickly writing on the drink cups in his nearly illegible handwriting, and his lips were raw and swollen from licking and biting them in boredom.

I hopped up on the counter, grinning at Rhys. "Hi," I greeted.

"Hey, beautiful," Rhys replied, making me blush. "Your usual?"

"Please," I said. 

"Coming up. And get off the counter before Alan yells at me again."

I rolled my eyes before sliding back down onto my feet. Alan was Rhys' manager and always made it a point to glare at me whenever I stopped by the shop. "I think Alan has a crush on you."

"Are you mad? Alan has a wife," Rhys laughed as he began working the espresso machine.

"Doesn't mean he can't think you're hot? What other reason does he have to hate me so much?" I asked.

"Maybe the fact that I'm not supposed to have cute girls coming round," Rhys pointed out, "and you're here nearly every day I work."

"You love my company," I defended.

"I do. Doesn't mean Alan does." Rhys handed me my iced caramel macchiatto. I grinned, stirring the drink and moving out of the way as a customer walked in the door.

For the next ten minutes, I just hung around the coffee shop waiting for Rhys to get off work. I texted Grace and looked through the sparse merchandise the store had, picking up travel mugs and reading the tags that hung from coffee makers. Customers trailed in and out, the familiar sounds of the whirring espresso machine and blender filling the air.

"You're here again?" Alan scowled, spotting me as he came out from the back of the shop.

"I'm good, thanks for asking. How are you, Alan?"

"I'd be better if you weren't loitering around my shop and distracting Rhys," he grumbled.

"I know we both like Rhys a lot, but we can share him, yeah?" I teased. Rhys shook his head from behind the counter, biting back a smile.

"The hell are you on about?" 

I giggled as Alan simply walked away, eyebrows furrowed and permanent scowl in place. "You're free to go," Alan said to Rhys as Nick burst from the back of house, apron askew and hair a mess. His eyes were half-lidded and bloodshot, and I knew Alan was beginning to regret hiring this guy. Nick had only been working at the shop for a couple weeks and he'd already dropped more lattes and screwed up more orders than I could count. 

Rhys shot me a smile before heading through the double doors that led to the back to change. I sipped at my drink as I waited, sweet caramel coating my tongue. It was only a few moments later that Rhys returned, apron gone and his work polo replaced by a graphic tee. The black skinny jeans and scuffed Vans he wore during his shift remained.