Page 6 of Fake Love

But what if I’m not, I want to ask but I don’t.

Before all of this, I was on the top of my game, what if that is all gone? What if my decision to sleep with the little white substance caused me to lose the ability to even hold a ball correctly?

I don’t show him those insecurities though.

“Thank you, Ben. Means a lot to know you believe in me.”

“We all believe in you, kid. You just have to believe in yourself. Now, go. Explore the city and I will see you in the morning. Give me a call if you need anything.”

With that, me and my duffle bag are left to our own accord.

I guess it's time to explore the city that I now get to call home.

Fingers crossed it treats me better than the last one.

2

Jennifer

You would think that a coffee shop’s busiest time of the day would be the morning hours. Because that’s when people need coffee the most, right? To be ready and energized for their working day, right?

Wrong. In a city where most individuals work remote and can work from almost anywhere, afternoons and evenings have started to become the busiest times for coffee shops.

How do I know this?

Well, I’m currently elbows deep in espresso at four in the afternoon, so I think I’m qualified to say when people run to get their coffee.

That and I’ve been working at this hipster hot spot since my college days. I know a thing or two.

And right now, I know that this crowd of afternoon coffee drinkers can go suck an eggplant. I want to go home and forget about this place even existing, but no they keep coming in and we don’t close until eight.

Yippadi-fucking-do.

I should have never agreed to work a double, I would have been out of here already.

But instead, I’m making Barbie Karen her latte for the eighth time because it doesn’t taste like a latte.

Maybe if she wasn’t chewing gum it would taste like one.

I didn't tell her that, but I did think about it.

Finishing up the flower design at the top of the milk, I cross my fingers as I call her name.

“Latte for Barbie.” I call out. Yes, her name is indeed Barbie, and she is not the first one today.

“It better taste like a latte this time.” She says, chewing her gum obnoxiously loud.

I want to strangle her.

“It does, ma’am. I promise.” I give her my sweetest smile, the one that my best friend tells me is evil at its core.

Barbie approaches the counter, her eyes narrowed at me as she reaches for her drink and takes a sip.

If she tells me it doesn’t taste like a latte, I will quit right now.

After she finishes her sip, she takes another as if she can’t find the taste to it.

Finally, after her third sip, she gives me a nod.

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