Page 7 of Fake Love

“About damn time you got it right,” she spits out, throwing an eye roll in my direction.

I swear my eye twitches as she flips her hair and leaves the coffee shop with her stupid latte in hand. Without a doubt I will be having this same conversation with her by the end of the week.

Just thinking about that is making me cringe.

Ignoring all the other coffees that are waiting to be made, I head to the back and pull out my phone, making plans to look forward to when I get out this hell hole.

ME: Tell Hunty that you’re mine tonight and I don’t want him to cockblock my girls’ night.

I hit send and instantly the little typing bubble starts to pop up. My anger starts to dissipate and gratitude for having my best friend in the same city washes over me.

Her message comes in within seconds.

SEL: Bad day at work?

This girl knows me all too well.

Selena and I have been best friends since we were little girls. What with us being in the same elementary school classes together and our dads working together at the same construction company. She has been one of my constants in my life, even when we went to different colleges, and she started building a life with her professional athlete of a boyfriend.

Or should I say fiancé since they got engaged last month when San Francisco’s own football team won the Super Bowl.

Since she lives within a thirty-minute drive from me, I take any time with her that I can.

I shoot her a reply.

ME: I had to remake a latte 8 TIMES!!! 8 TIMES, SELENA!!!! All because it didn’t taste like a latte. So I’m initiating the BFF card!!!!!!!!!

SEL: I’ll make him disappear. Come over whenever you’re off.

ME: I LOVE YOU!!!!!!

With my salvation secure, I pocket my phone and head back to the counter. The second I step through the double doors and see that the line of cups has increased, I feel like crying.

I try my hardest to hold in a groan at the sight, but I fail. So much so that my second lead, Annaleigh, lets out a chuckle at my frustration.

“I swear I hate four o’clock coffee runs.” I grumble as I make my way back to my station of the day.

“Hey, at least you don’t get yelled at for telling them that mocha indeed has chocolate in it,” she says with an eye roll.

I swear there are some people that think that mocha is this magical thing.

“Let's hope these last few hours move along fast.” I say, going back to my hell.

For the next two hours, its non-stop coffee making for me and taking coffee orders for Annaleigh. It’s as if all of San Francisco decided to come here to get their caffeine IV to be able to survive.

By the time seven comes around, the shop is dead, not a single customer coming in for a good twenty minutes, and both me and Annaleigh are dead on our feet.

It’s days like today that really make me hate my job.

“You can go ahead and go home early,” I say to Annaleigh as I wipe down a table. “I think I can handle an hour on my own.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind finishing up my shift.”

As much as I want to tell her that she should stay and I leave, I don’t. That’s what a manager does, right?

I give her a nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. Go ahead, one of us needs to get out of here and I have to close anyway.”

“Thanks, Jen.” She says as she takes off her apron and grabs her stuff from under the counter.

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