primadonna girl || wilbur soot

Chapter Fourteen

[REAL LIFE]

Clara has been very busy thinking about it. It's now April ninth, and the days are dwindling.

Her brain is so far into another universe that Clara doesn't see Phoebe until it's too late, the two girls colliding wildly. A gasp brings Clara back to Earth, as Phoebe struggles to stabilize the unlidded caramel macchiato in her hands.

"Shit, Clara," Phoebe hisses under her breath, not loud enough for any customers to catch it, but loud enough for Clara to feel her annoyance.

"Fuck I'm sorry Phoebs, I completely spaced out," Clara scrambles to move aside for her coworker, so she can make her way to the counter. Phoebe firmly puts a lid on the steaming cup, slides a sleeve on, and gently sets it down.

"Caramel macchiato no whip for... Oscar?" The petite girl calls out. A young man looks up from his phone and grabs the drink, nodding his head at Phoebe before leaving. Phoebe is only nineteen years old, and trying to work her way through uni, paying her tuition with the minimum wage she and Clara both earn at the cafe.

She turns back to Clara with a peeved expression.

"Are you so miserable working right now that your brain has to change planets?" Phoebe asks, quirking a brow. Clara shakes her head, a corner of her lips tugging slightly down.

"No no, it's stupid. Just something I've been sitting on for about a day."

"Well stand up and go to the register because rush hour is within reach." Phoebe is perhaps the only young adult that Clara would ever let boss her around, simply because Phoebe gets what she wants, and that's a quality that's fairly terrifying to some people. In truth, the younger girl is like Clara's little sister, and she tries to do anything she can to make sure Phoebs has a smooth shift.

That is, whenever they actually have their shift together. Sometimes, Phoebe takes a later shift, and Clara works with Alastair, a stoic boy a year younger than Clara. However, whenever Clara gets moved it's almost never by her choice, contradictory to Phoebe's easy picking. Again, this is simply because Phoebe doesn't stop until she gets what she wants.

Clara nods her head and turns back to the register she's supposed to occupy. She usually takes orders and Phoebe is trusted alone to make drinks. Whenever things get too hectic, Clara helps out as well, working double-time.

Slapping on her customer-service smile, Clara proudly states, "good afternoon, and welcome to Topped Off, what can I get you today?" Looking up, Clara's fake smile shifts into a wide grin as she sees who her newest customer is. Deciding not to acknowledge his presence and continue on, Clara prompts further. "Our specialty drink is our vanilla lavender latte, and we've recently welcomed an apple cinnamon muffin into our ranks of delectable food options. What can I get you started with?"

The man in front of her rolls his eyes but decides to play along for her sake. "It's a bit late for coffee, so I'll take a medium Sereni-tea." He wrinkles his nose at the stupid pun, deep voice dropping at the end of his sentence.

"Coming right up for you, sir," Clara beams. Phoebe hears the order and gets right to it, already putting the kettle to boil. "For here or to go?" Clara's heart clenches. It'd be mean if he said 'to go'.

He pretends to ponder his answer before replying. "Hmm, I think I'll stick around for a while. For here is just fine."

"Great! Any food with that, sir?"

"I've had a long train ride so why not. I'll just take a blueberry scone. You don't have to warm it up or anything."

"Perfect." Clara types the order into the register. "That'll be £6.40."