Filed to story: Can’t Get Enough Of You
“I’m working tonight,” I said.
I reached the bus stop and glanced at the other people waiting to get on board. There were only two. One had earphones in his ears, and wouldn’t hear my conversation. The other was reading a book.
“Come on,” June groaned. “Cancel your shift.”
“I can’t do that. Besides, I’m saving up money for…” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I’d been saving up money so that Ryan and I could get a place after college. Now, that wasn’t going to happen. But I would still need a place to stay, whether it was with him or not. My stomach turned and I felt sick. God, all of this was so unexpected. And so unfair.
The bus rumbled toward us.
“I have to go,” I said. “I’m working my shift, and then I’m going to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
The girls protested about not being able to take me out for a short while longer, but then they gave in, and I ended the call. I climbed onto the bus, feeling numb, and I sat in one of the seats close to the back. I leaned my head against the window and watched the city slide by as the bus snaked through the streets of Los Angeles, taking me back to my student housing.
My shift at Café Noir started at five, and it ran until one in the morning. The café was a simple place during the day, offering food and artisan coffee. At night, we whipped out the cocktail menus and craft beers, and the crowd shifted from sensible daytime workers to raucous students.
I liked working there-it always had a good vibe, and since I’d worked at the café almost as long as I’d been studying, it felt like a home away from home.
“Hey, Izzy,” my coworker Jimmy said when I clocked in for my shift and he clocked out. “Are you okay? You look…”
“I’m okay,” I said before he could finish his sentence. “Just a tough week with classes and tests.”
“You have some days off coming up soon, right? Then you can rest,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s a good point,” I agreed, and he gave me a sympathetic smile before he left.
I walked to the counter, ready to serve the customers coming in for the late afternoon rush, and tried not to think about Ryan at all.
It would be no use if I cried into someone’s coffee. That was just unprofessional.
Time ticked on and the orders changed from coffee to cocktails when the dinner orders started coming in. I worked hard, running back and forth, focusing on work so that I didn’t have to think about anything else. My mind kept jumping to Ryan, and when I forced it away, I thought about what June and Bernie had suggested-a rebound. But I couldn’t do that.
Could I?
I’d been in a two-year relationship until today. I’d been thinking long term. My mind had been on the future, not on the present, and not on getting my physical needs met. Instant gratification had been the last thing I’d wanted.
I felt like the rug had been ripped out from under me.
“Two black coffees, and the best stout you have on tap,” a deep voice said. I looked up.
Oh. My. God.
The bluest eyes I’d ever seen pierced me, and they were set in a face that could only have been carved by the angels. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with tanned skin that made him look like he went for morning runs on the beach, broad shoulders, a confident attitude, and a grin on his face that made my stomach flutter.
“Coming right up,” I managed to say, which was a damn miracle because the sight of Mr. Hot-as-Hell had made me feel all tongue-tied. I turned away from him and started preparing his order. Two coffees and a stout-that was the order, right? Good thing he’d said it before I’d seen his face because I wouldn’t have heard a word he said.
What was wrong with me? I didn’t usually notice guys like this. But if they looked like him, I’m sure I would have looked twice. Relationship or not.
When I’d prepared the two coffees, I put them on the counter.
He smiled at me and my heart skipped a beat.
“Let me just get that beer,” I said.
He nodded, and I walked to the beer taps to pour the stout. I took the pint glass to the counter and put it down, calculating the price in my mind.
He pulled out a handful of bills and smiled at me again.
Cue the butterflies.
“Keep the change,” he said.
“Thanks. Here you go,” I said, offering him a tray for the coffee and the beer so that he wouldn’t have to juggle them all.
“Thanks,” he said. He flashed me that grin and walked away.
The conversation had been simple. But I shivered, my stomach tightening again, and I watched him walk to a table with another man and a woman.
My stomach sank a little. Was he taken?
I snuck glances at him the rest of the night while I worked, watching the body language of his group. They were too far away from the counter for me to hear what they were saying, and as the evening picked up and I got busier, I could focus on them less and less. But at some point, the other man leaned over and kissed the woman, and I was oddly satisfied.
They were a couple. Mr. Dreamy was a third wheel.
Which didn’t by any means tell me he was single-a man that attractive had to have a woman who was supermodel material. But still, a girl could hope.
They stood and left, and my stomach sank again when the table was empty. I would have liked to at least talk to him again.
But men like him didn’t happen to women like me.
Just as well. I didn’t need to get hurt another time.
It would have been nice, though, if at least one thing in my life worked out the way it did in the movies. Since I’d already lost my happy ending and all, I was due for some sort of good luck.
I wiped down the counter while I waited for the next person to order. It was getting close to midnight and business was dying down. We were closing up soon. And then I just had to help clean up before I could go home.
Someone walked up to the counter and cleared his throat.