Page 14 of Gorgeous Nightmare

Ijolt upright as my alarm screams into the silence. I slap it off, accidentally causing my phone to fall to the floor with a dull thud.

Perfect.

Kicking the covers off, I drag myself out of bed, already regretting every life choice I’ve made that’s led me to working mornings. Still…the morning shifts have a steady flow, familiar faces, and a little chaos. But Gods, it doesn’t make waking up before the sun any less soul-crushing.

I go through the normal motions of getting ready for work. I brush my teeth, then throw on some black eyeliner and lipstick. Simple but a statement. Thebruises Tyler left are still faint on my skin, so I dab on a bit of concealer and press in powder, like I’m painting over a crime scene.

After throwing on some fishnets, ripped boyfriend jeans, and my Potion Press tee, I wrangle my reddish black hair into a couple of braids. A pair of worn-in Doc Martens wait by the door, and I lace them up like armor.

My mini coffin purse holds my essentials, a weed vape, a nic vape, wallet, and keys. I double-check it’s there just out of habit before sliding my phone into my back pocket and stepping out.

The walk to The Potion Press is short, but it’s just long enough for my thoughts to drag me back to last night's dream. A smile crosses my lips, my cheeks growing hot as I recall the mess I made.

Stop it, A! Now is not the time.

I open the door to the shop and step inside. Thesmell of coffee and incense assaults my nose, easily triggering me to fall right into work mode.

“Good morningggg, A,” Ash’s singsong voice carries through the shop like a siren, always ready to bring men to their demise.

“Good morning, my love!” I reply cheerfully before making my way to her.

“Did night shift leave us high and dry this morning?” I raise my eyebrows at her questioningly.

Stepping behind the counter, I reach across her to grab my uniform, a black apron with a cauldron bubbling out coffee.

“Actually, I closed last night, so we should be all good,” she replies with a yawn, a tell-tale sign she was up playing video games again.

“Oh, you poor thing. I’ll get the espresso machine warmed up and make your favorite,” I respond, yawning myself.

“You too, babe?” Ash questions, looking me up and down. “You look like the walking dead,” she giggles.

“Wow, thanks,” I quip back, sticking my tongue out.

“Anytime, love,” she states before sashaying away.

What a drama queen.

I’ve known Ash since we were teenagers. She’s always had an affinity for anything weird and spooky. She’s been doing rituals for as long as I can remember, making deals with something far more powerful than herself.

That’s why she opened this shop to begin with. She was always convinced she could heal someone with divine powers from the universe or something like that. And this is a way for her to help teach others about that.

I smile to myself. She’s a piece of work, some would call her crazy, but I just call her my best friend.

We spend the next twenty minutes getting the shop ready to open. By seven, there’s already a line wrapped around the corner - an army of sleep-deprived souls desperate for their dirty bean water fix.

I focus on the coffee and pastry side of things, whileAsh manages the mystics. An assortment of various crystals, oils, and herbs that we carry and their promises of healing or hexing.

It’s not long before the store falls back into its usual rhythm, a handful of customers trickling in every hour. I start prepping a fresh press of espresso, the steady hiss of the machine filling the silence, when the bell above the door chimes.

My eyes shoot up.

“Welcome in,” I say before spotting him.

The fucking guy that made me turn into a waterfall with a candlestick.

No. Fucking. Way.

My body moves before my brain can catch up, my knees slamming into the floor as my arms flail out, espresso powder flying in every direction.

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