High Noon [H.S]

stranger danger

Typically, I would have much rather preferred not to spend my usual Saturday off trapped inside The Grind, but alas, it seemed like life had decided on (miserably) different plans for me.

I was rudely woken up this morning by the unwelcomed presence of my phone ringing next to me, my boss implying (correction: threatening) that I would probably lose my job if I didn't show up for the shift. Internally, I cried because all I wanted to do was tell him to fuck off, snuggle back under my warm covers and call it a day. But, I was a broke college student struggling to even pay for my rent and some lousy ramen noodles, so of course I agreed and woke my tired self up.

The handmade sign attached to the register seemed to taunt me as I tied the apron around my waist. I scowl at my boss' black-inked handwriting that I was almost certain he wrote just for me.

Please don't forget to smile :)

I wasn't a morning person. Still, I was here, but that didn't mean I was happy about it. He could make me come into work, but there was no way in hell I was going to pretend that I wouldn't rather throw myself into shark infested waters instead of serving happy go-lucky customers all morning.

I rip the sticky note off the till, scrunching it up before throwing it into the bin beside me as a man talking on his phone waltzed into the coffee shop.

"Welcome to The Grind. What can I get for you today?" I dryly welcome the customer with the memorized greeting we had to use. If only our boss had decided on a more realistic welcoming; something along the lines of 'I really don't want to be here today. What do you bloody want?'

I make the order of the apple cider chai latte; one of the many exclusive holiday drinks we sold during the fall season and hand it over to the customer. He smiles warmly, thanking me and asking where the sugar was in a voice that was way too loud to be heard at 8 in the morning. All I could do was grunt and point to the table behind him.

"Wow," a voice rings throughout the room from behind me. My face instinctively scrunches up at the high-pitched sound as I turn around to spot Jay. (Question of the day: why do people feel the need to talk so damn loud in the morning?) He drops his jacket in the back before grabbing an apron and tying it around his waist. "Do my eyes deceive me or is Rory Prescott actually working on a Saturday?"

"Don't remind me," I grumble, walking over to the back counter to make myself some coffee. If there were any chance of survival through my work shift, then I needed a huge dose of caffeine pronto.

Jay rolls his eyes, chuckling at my usual morning demeanour. "Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

I load the machine with my favourite ground coffee before filling it with water; the familiar aroma of Italian roast fills the air as the brew starts. Turning around and leaning back against the counter, I decide to ignore Jay's comment. "Harriet used the sick card, again. I swear to God that girl can snap her fingers and Ren will let her miss any shift, but the minute I try to say no to one, he threatens to bloody fire me."