(chapter 1)
Vinny loved his mother, he really did. But he was terrified as he stood in his room, debating whether or not it was finally time to tell her. Whether he could tell her this one aspect about himself that he had been hiding from her since middle school. They were close-the closest he had seen any other boy with their mothers-but he wasn't quite sure how she would take the news of him being...not straight.
Every morning since 8th grade, he would find himself standing in front of his bedroom door. All ready for school, then later, after graduating from school, for work, just staring at the soft, worn wood of his door, trying to work up the courage to finally tell her. Just tell her. But he never did, and he probably never would. Releasing a sigh, he shoved his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots in his frustration.
Ruffling his hair lightly, he opened the door, grabbing his bag from the hook to the right of the doorway, and walked out into the hallway. He walked straight to the door, pocketing his house keys and sliding into his shoes. "Bye, Mom," he called out, hand resting on the handle.
"Bye, honey," she called back, head peeking around the corner from the kitchen. "See you later. Have a good day at work. Don't forget to eat!"
He flashed her a grin and stepped outside, ignoring the dread still heavy in his chest and the spiral of doubts lingering in the back of his head-why couldn't he just tell her?--not wanting any unnecessary negative thoughts to ruin his morning before it had even started.
It was a nice day, warm and sunny. Work would probably be a little extra busy today, everyone coming in for a cool drink in the warming weather. He dreaded it, yes. Lots of people made him anxious, and being timed while surrounded by so many people sent him practically into a panic. But he was also excited. The new spring menu just went into effect, and he was more than ready to make them.
Practically skipping his way to his powder blue bug that he's still not used to having, he slid into the driver's seat, started it up, and drove to work. It wasn't very far away from his mother's house, where he was staying until he could find an apartment closer to school and his job. He was on break right now, and he was enjoying having time for his hobbies again, even if most of his free time was still taken up by work. Even so, work was a bit of a hobby in itself, too. He loved making coffee and attempting latte art, even though he wasn't all that great at it.
The cafe came into sight, right in the center of downtown, and he carefully parked in his usual spot in the back lot, right next to the backdoor and as far away from the dumpster as possible. He absolutely did not want to chance bumping his new car against the filthy hunk of metal. Further, he couldn't afford to fix any damage should that happen. With that in mind, he turned off the car, opening the door just enough for him to slide out, and walked over to the backdoor, locking the bug over his shoulder as he went.
Pulling the heavy door open, huffing and puffing in the process, he rushed his way to the break room. Jeez, he thought. I really need to work out or something. Can't even open a door. He laughed breathlessly at himself, and though he was early, he hurriedly shoved his way through the break room door, slipped his work apron on, and made his way through the kitchen.
"Hey-a, Vinny," his boss, Roe Wallace, called to him from where she was working at kneading a dough, some kind of batter mixing at her right. Something delicious, no doubt. Everything she made was amazing, and the success of the business was proof enough.
"Morning, Roe," he grinned, stopping to catch his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing a stubborn curl off his forehead. "How's everything going this morning? Busy?"
"Not any more than usual," she said, grunting as she gave the dough one last good hit and leaning over to turn off the mixer. "Go ahead and clock in since you're already here." She sent him a grin, and he couldn't stop the amused smile from creeping up when he saw the streak of flour across her forehead.
"Yes, ma'am," he saluted her and turned away, but not before he saw her rolling her dark eyes. He chuckled as he properly tied on his apron, pausing for a moment. "You mind if I make myself a drink, Miss. Roe?"
"You know you can, Vin. But only one, any more and it'll be out of your paycheck." She leveled him with a look, to which he grinned and skipped up to the counter.
The store didn't seem to be too busy, only a few customers scattered about at the different tables, all with their orders in front of them. No one was being rung up. No one was waiting for an order. He was good to go. He went to the computer, quickly putting his information in to clock in, then went about making himself a drink.
"What're you gonna make this time?" his coworker asked, stepping back behind the counter. He assumed she had just come back from wiping down some tables, the towel in her hand proving him correct. Her curls bounced with each of her steps, looking almost gravity defying, and her voice was much chirpier than she looked. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she didn't even try to hide the bags under her eyes.
He didn't answer her right away, instead going back to making his drink. Dumping caramel and dark chocolate into the double shot of espresso he just pulled, mixing them in until he was sure they were all melted together, then dumping it into a cup of ice and milk. "Caramel mocha, maybe," he said, putting a lid on the drink, slipping a sleeve on the cup, and making his way to his usual spot at the register. He poked a straw through the lid before looking back over to her. He noticed the very obvious disgust on her face and couldn't stop himself from laughing.
"I don't know how you handle so much sugar being as small as you are," she said, wiping the counter down then going to clean up the utensils he forgot to clean up.
At her glare, he could only grin sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled, cheeks pinkening. One would think that after working there for nearly a year, he wouldn't be so forgetful of such things, but that wasn't the case. He tended to be quite air-headed sometimes, many things just going over his head. Even things that he already knew or things he should be used to doing, such as cleaning up after making a drink. "Not sleep well, Dee?"
She snorted, putting the things back where they were meant to be before turning to him. A hand came up to brush through her curls, and he marveled at the careless elegance of the move. He was clumsy, and most likely would have nailed himself in the nose trying to do that. "When do I ever?" she asked rhetorically. "I was up with Malia all night. She got sick, and I was worried I would have to call off. Luckily, she just needed to sleep it off. She was fine when we woke up this morning. Still couldn't take her to daycare, but my mom was able to watch her for me."
A squeal came from Vinny at the mention of the little girl. "When do I get to see her again? I miss her, Dee." He pouted at her, arms crossing over his chest.
Dee laughed, relaxing back against the counter. "I don't know. Maybe we can set up a family dinner or something. You and your ma can come over or something."
"Yeah, sure," he said, stomach rumbling, mouth watering, at the thought of Miss. Fletcher's home cooking. Sure, he was a decent cook, and so was his mom. But Miss Fletcher was just on a whole new level of delicious. Especially her lasagna. "Just let me know when."
"Sure thing."
They both straightened when the bell over the door sounded, greeting the new customer with a grin and a chirpy hello. The guy smiled back, and Vinny noticed that his smile made his eyes crinkle up as he got closer. He had brown hair, dark like the hazelnut, and his eyes were the exact light brown of the caramel sauce he used in his coffee just earlier and so pretty, lined with long, dark lashes. He was tall, shoulders broad. His arms covered in tattoos, beautifully done gray-work sleeves, and muscled, Vinny noted, seeing the swell of his bicep peeking from under the sleeves of his t-shirt, even when at rest. His face was even better.
"Good morning," Vinny said, ignoring the way his throat threatened to dry up at the sight of him. "What can I get for you?"
"An americano and a blueberry muffin," he said. His voice was warm, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate in his ears longer than necessary. "To go, please."
Vinny blinked, cheeks hot, and hurriedly put in the order. "$6.50," he said, not even looking at the man as he slid his card to pay for his order. "We'll have that right out for you."
His shift just started, and he was already making a fool of himself. At least I'm the only one who noticed, he thought as he turned to help Dee get the order ready. He froze when he saw her looking at him, one perfectly sculpted brow arched, a smirk on her face. His eyes were wide, he knew they were, and he had to work far too hard to keep the curse at the tip of his tongue from slipping out.
Dee didn't say anything. She simply wiggled her fingers at him and turned to make the drink.
Vinny shook his head, focusing on the feeling of his hair fluffing up and falling back into place. A quick breath in, then he was back to work. Picking out a muffin, the best one he could find, he got a small bag, opening it up, and carefully placing the muffin inside. "Here ya go," he called, folding the top over and placing the bag in the pick-up area, right beside the drink Dee had apparently already placed there. His eyes ate up the way the man shifted the step forward to get his order, how his muscles flexed as his arm stretched out and gathered the items. He had to force himself back to the present, and he blinked up at the man with a smile he was sure looked all too wistful. "Have a good day."
"Thanks," the man said, smile still in place. "You too." Then he turned and walked away.
Dee was squealing as soon as he was out the door, grabbing his forearms in her excitement. "Oh my gawd, he was so dreamy," she rushed out, practically bouncing. When he looked at her, she started fanning herself, and he couldn't stop the amusement that flooded him. "Don't even try to deny it. Your cheeks are still as red as your hair."
Vinny groaned, now regretting having mentioned his sexuality to Dee. She was supportive, to the highest degree, and honestly having her know was one of the things that kept him floating above the big bubble of sadness in him. But she could be overbearing about it sometimes, not understanding why he doesn't want to gush about boys together or date around.
"I have eyes, Dee," he mumbled, brushing the thoughts aside and offering her a small smile as he busied himself wiping down the counter. "I'm aware he's attractive."
"Gosh, I hope he comes in again. Regularly." Whatever else she wanted to say was cut off when the bell over the door sounded and a whole party of people came in.
"Get ready, Dee," he said softly. "Looks like morning rush numero dos is starting."
(word count: 2,062)