Order 73 ~DNF~

𝟚𝟟

tw: panic attack

//

𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒫𝒪𝒱

I wake up with a sticky note on my forehead.

Strawberry lingers on my sheets and I frown, pulling the note off my skin, staring at it blearily as I rub the glue off. Well, the petty idiot got payback.

I forgot I took a morning shift today, come pick me up for the conference before you go :]

I yawn, stashing the note in my drawer. The walk to the bathroom is unfamiliar; it's got me feeling a little homesick. Eyes closed, I shed my clothes slowly, shivering in the frigid bathroom. So they haven't fixed the air conditioning yet, great. I bang the top of my head on the showerhead and that finally jolts me awake, spewing curses at it.

Towel wrapped around my waist, I walked over to the few suits I had unpacked, hung up neatly in the spacious closet. I hum around my toothbrush, picking the dark brown three piece, rummaging around the drawer for the tie that went with it.

Fueled with the fierce need for caffeine, I drag my ass out of the apartment, ignoring Daniel's thread of texts threatening me to come over and practice. The one time I went to one of his practice press conferences was the only time I stumbled over my words.

The familiar ring of the little bell on the door sounds and I stand in line, looking behind me only to see that one lady with the headband from forever ago waving at me. She joins me in line, clicking away on her cell phone.

"Mocha latte to go with chocolate sauce on the sides," George yawns, already plugging the order in. "Pardon me–plus two extra espresso shots?" The lady behind me giggles.

"Come on George, we've been over this. I don't like mocha lattes." I chuckle along with her and George looks up. A small smile lights up his face before he schools it into one of annoyance. He turns around, already knowing that whatever he makes up will probably be better than what I'll try to order.

"Is this going to be a thing now? You coming in and messing up the first one hundred orders I've got memorized?" He asks, punching in something random.

"Should I make it a thing?" I tease, handing him some loose cash.

He yanks the bills out of my hand with a roll of his eyes. "No,"

I move out of the line, leaning on my elbows as I watch him craft my drink. "Come on now, you can't be mean to me."

His hands stop with their movements for just a second, looking at me with uninterest. Glistening ice gets dumped into the cup, along with a little more coffee than I usually get. He smiles innocently. "And why not?"

"Because you stole my hoodie in zero degree weather." His cheeks flush instantly and I laugh as he covers his eyes with his hand, shaking his head slightly. "If I remember correctly, you could have ki–"

"Stop it," He grumbles, his face blooming a deeper shade of red than before. "What is wrong with you?"

I'm about to answer but the headband lady behind me cuts me off, a strange grin accompanying her very polite way of saying, hurry the fuck up. George scrambles away from me, sliding my drink across the countertop.

"Order 73." He calls jokingly. I raise my hand with a smile that matches his own, taking a sip. He's already on to her order, so I shoot him a thumbs up, yet again amazed how he's gotten me to kinda like coffee now. Of course, making me pre-diabetic along the way. Not that I really care.