Page 32 of The Scars Within
“Or how about right now? I didn’t think your job was to make your own beverage,” Pehper snarled.
Irritation surged through my chest. This was not how I wanted to start my week. I was extremely thankful to the elements that she didn’t visit the station during my shifts last week.
I swallowed my retort and slowly turned to face her. “How can I help you?” I asked with a smile that was anything but friendly. If anyonehad walked through our line of sight at that moment, they would have evaporated into ash on the spot.
“Iced vanilla latte, large.”
“Coming right up,” I mumbled, turning to find her a glass.
I brewed her espresso over ice, added the milk and vanilla spice, popped in a straw, and handed it over the counter.
Pehper took it without a thank you and walked off. I barely had time to turn around when she said, “It’s watered down.”
She held the glass towards me with her arm straight out, an evil snarl across her face.
I swallowed yet another smartass retort. “If you don’t like the watered-down taste, try cold brew. It’s brewed overnight in the fridge. It won’t melt the ice cubes like regular espresso does.”
She pretended to think over my advice. “No. I think I’ll just have you remake it.”
“Pehper, that’s a fresh latte. Let’s not waste it.”
“It’s not wasteful if it was made incorrectly,” she shrugged. “I get this drink every morning, and it’s never tasted as watery as this one does.” Her voice had a childlike pitch, making her sound like a whiny puppy.
“Oh, you should try cold brew! It’s my new favorite. It doesn’t melt the ice!” One of Pehper’s friends squeaked. I was so focused on not punching Pehper over the counter that I didn’t see Salt sneak up.
Pehper shot her a look that screamed, “Shut the fuck up.”
I crossed my arms and smirked. “See? Told you. I can make you a cold brew if you’d like,” I said with a soft tone.
Something in Pehper’s demeanor shifted. She walked closer to the counter and offered her drink to me.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Can I please try the cold brew instead?” She mumbled under her breath, so her friend couldn’t hear.
I tapped my finger on my elbow, weighing my options. Pehper’s a bitch—that much I know. But maybe, just maybe, she isn’t as bad as I imagined.
“Of course,” I said, reaching for the glass. “Just give me a few moments—”
I gasped.
Pehper tilted the drink towards me, letting it slip from her grip. The entire beverage poured down my tunic and pants. I hadn’t taken a moment to tie on my apron yet this morning.
I stood there, arm frozen mid-reach, jaw dropped, and eyes closed. I looked down to see the ice-cold liquid soaking through my clothes, then back up at Pehper.
“Oops,” she grinned, not remotely sorry.
My skin felt icy cold, but my blood boiled. How dare I let my guard down, even for a second? I was about to leap over the counter and crack the empty glass over her head when the sound of the swinging door at the espresso station stole my attention.
Shayde rushed in with dish towels, presumably grabbed from the cafeteria crew, and started wiping my arms.
“Fuck off, Pehper!” he growled.
She gave me a wink and strolled off, tossing her bright red braid over her shoulder.
My vision turned crimson. My anger boiled so hot I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I wasn’t sure if I was even breathing.
Cool hands cupped my face as Shayde tilted my chin up to meet his dark brown eyes.
“You okay, Scar?”
