Page 8 of Wilder Puck
She gawks at me. “More questions? What could you possibly want to know?”
I smirk at her while trekking down the hallway. “It’s for me to know and for you to find out… later.”
Chapter 3
For whatever it’s worth, I love that I can talk about sex with a guy without it being extremely awkward. We’re just two friends having a conversation.
Would I talk about sex with anyone else? Of course not. You couldn’t pay me any amount of money. Okay, actually I would gladly take a million or two. So, pay up. But that’s beside the point. Ryan is the person I can talk to about anything and not feel picked apart or judged.
There are times when he does judge me because I’m not a people pleaser like him. I don’t go out of my way to help others. I have a guilty conscience of it, but I’m not all sweaty with apologies over it. Okay, so don’t judge me. But I cut people off in traffic. I’m that car racing past everyone to cut in front of the line of cars at the very last second. I’m also the person who takes the last piece of pizza, or even worse, I’ll eat all the watermelon or the ice cream, whatever delicious food there is, I have no shame. And yeah, Ryan judges the crap out of me for it. I remind him that we can’t all be the same. I’m not perfect. It’s okay that we’reopposites, we can balance each other out when needed. I think he’s accepted it.
So, that’s why I lied about the vanilla sex. I don’t usually lie. I actually didn’t lie about the orgasm part. Jacob has yet to make me, but I, like any human on planet Earth, enjoy the different positions sex has to offer. I didn’t want to get Ryan all bent out of shape about his boring sex life while I bragged about my exciting one. I don’t need my best friend to know that I love doggy style or getting railed from the side. See, don’t judge me. But with Jacob, it’s not this natural thing for him. If anything, he’s more of a vanilla sex guy. Wow, I think me and Ryan must be dating the same type of person. Which makes me wonder if Ryan would like sex the same way I do? Nope. Not going to imagine that.
I waltz out of his place and drive to my coffee shop. The manager has already opened up shop. My store is bright and shiny, and oh so modern. The graphic designer I hired for this place did a stellar job. The words Baddie Addie’s Coffee Shop are in bold letters in black stretched serif font. The menu design is out of this world. Hand-drawn with the best mini coffee details, some quotes, and a list of fabulous coffee drinks. I wish I could say this is a normal coffee stop but it absolutely isn’t. Not with the amazing specialty drinks, my special blend, and the amazing location. Not to mention that the owner is rather a dazzling ball of sunshine that customers love to visit daily. I’ve made a lot of friends. Yeah, I’m smiling ear to ear.
The line is already packed, so I hop behind the counter and start helping after greeting a few of our regulars.
The many orders I hear are Baddie Addie, Cryin’ Ryan, Gone Mads, Stickler, and Peep to the Pops.
I designed this place to be like a bar but for coffee. Black accents. Modern. Pops of color. The wall art consists of ready-to-sell paintings from artists wanting to sell their pieces. We havesold a few already. I may have bought a few for my home. My employees are required to wear bright clothing. The cups are colorful. We have a wall with pops of color with a modern font design. It’s all meant to be lighthearted and fun. When Ryan walked in here for the first time, I will never forget his smile.
“Wow,” he said in awe. “This is–” He spun around to take it all in. When his eyes landed on mine, he smiled. “This is exactly your vibe.”
I smiled back at him because I knew he would understand the vision, the vibe, and the aesthetic that I’m going for.
When it comes to business, you want the customers to feel welcomed, safe, happy, and satisfied. And this decor wouldn’t mean anything if our coffee sucked. I’ve had this idea brewing for years throughout college, and Ryan always encouraged me to chase this dream. He is the one who got me this location through a friend of a friend, and sometimes I believe he’s the best person walking this planet. He is definitely the best friend anyone could ever ask for.
For this place to only be alive for eight months, my heart still swells with pride whenever I’m in here. I did this. And I’m proud of it. Except for that line of vases along the window, Ryan did that. All shapes and sizes, color-stained glass. It was a gift from him. They’re hideous. He thought it matched my aesthetic, and I didn’t have the guts to tell him I hated them. So now they’re sitting there, and I always look at them to remind myself that Ryan means well and I’m just a prude.
“Hey, Baddie Addie,” a regular customer calls over the counter. I smack my lips in delight at the old man’s face. He claims the table by the vases as his favorite spot to work, and I’m just so glad someone appreciates those disgusting vases.
“Mr. Taylor,” I smile, looking for the peppermint candy I keep in stock for my happy customers. “Heads up!”
I throw the candy over the counter as he hoorays. He turns his head to his table and then looks back at me.
“Baddie Addie, when are you going to put flowers in those vases?” he asks at least once a week.
I look over at the vases, wishing I could remove them from my sight. “When I date the right man who will bring me flowers.”
“Ah.” His lips smack. “Good luck finding one of those today.”
I bite my lip and point my finger guns at him. “I’ll take all the luck I need. Enjoy.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ryan Wilder: You’re coming to the game tomorrow, right?
Baddie Addie: No, I actually can’t make it.
Ryan Wilder: What? Why?
…
Ryan Wilder: If you don’t come, we’re going to lose.
Baddie Addie: That’s a weird lie you’ve told yourself. I’m no good luck charm.
Ryan Wilder: You are mine
