I bite back a smile. Aiden pauses.
Nora looks at me. “What’s that drink you make Tessa? The one with banana?”
I can feel Aiden’s ego deflating next to me.
The resultant breeze feels amazing.
I take the cup and the Sharpie from Aiden and scribble Nora’s name on the cup, mostly because it’s fun to write. “It’s a macchiato with hazelnut and banana. I can make you one.”
Nora pays for her coffee, and Aiden continues to try to make small talk with her while I pump the flavoring into the cup.
“When does your shift end?” Nora asks when I hand her the custom drink.
“Four. I just got here a few minutes ago.”
Nora takes a cautious sip, blowing into the cup first. “Okay. I’ll wait here.”
Maybe she heard me wrong. “Wait here? It’s four hours from now.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not that busy. I’m sure it’s fine if I take a table in the back?” Nora stares at me without even glancing toward Aiden.
The way she’s looking at me makes me feel important, and I think I like knowing that it’s driving Aiden crazy that someone like Nora would choose to stare at me and not him.
“Yeah, of course,” I say.
She smiles, knowing damn well that I wasn’t going to send her away.
Chapter Eight
DESPITE WHAT NORA SAID, Grind ends up being unusually busy for a Saturday afternoon, and Aiden’s body is moving slower than usual. He’s forgotten two orders, written the wrong name on three cups, and dropped a bottle of mint flavoring on the floor. I was the one who mopped it up.
With Nora watching silently from the back corner, I was too impatient to wait for him to fill the mop bucket and ever so slowly swipe the bundles of yarn across the slippery stain. Besides, the smell was awful, the heavy aroma of the mint syrup giving me an instant headache, and I knew I could have the area mopped before he even finished filling up the bucket. He didn’t thank me, of course; rather, he snidely reminded me not to forget the WET FLOOR sign.
I had hoped the constant line in the shop would keep my mind off Nora sitting there, watching me. But it didn’t. I feel anxious with her here, and I can’t help but look over every few seconds at where she’s sitting. Still, I’m working fine despite the distraction, unlike Aiden. Apparently, he can’t handle the pressure of the line of caffeine zombies. I can’t remember when my brain switched from being annoyed by him to setting him up as competition in my head. Weird.
I hand a woman named Julie her triple skim-milk latte and glance at Nora again. She’s writing something down in a notebook. Not looking at me. I can’t tell what it is she’s writing. It makes me feel a little like she’s a cop on a stakeout.
I take this moment to enjoy the view of her. She’s relaxed, her pen between her fingers. She taps the pen on the paper a few times and recrosses her legs. I love the way her lips pout. The feminine bow of her top lip sticks out a touch more than the bottom.
“Dude!” Aiden’s voice barges into my obsessive thoughts about Nora’s lips. When I look at him, I notice that the line has calmed: only two more guests are waiting on their drinks . . . but my feet are wet. Why?
Aiden’s pointing to the pitcher of green tea pouring onto the floor, and my feet. I grab the handle and yank it up, replacing the lid. The puddle isn’t too big; only half the pitcher is gone. I look over to see Nora watching me now, a smile on her face. My cheeks heat up, and I grab the mop. I force my busy brain to only think about mopping. Swipe, wring, swipe, dip into water. Wring again, swipe.
By the time the lobby clears out, only two hours have passed. My shirt is dirty, covered in espresso-bean dust, and my shoes are still damp from the green-tea spillage. On the bright side, we haven’t had a customer in close to ten minutes, and Aiden has that look on his face that tells me he’s going to start whining soon.
“I’m superhungry and I need to read some lines for an audition,” he says, right on cue. His shoulders are slouched, and his white shirt is stained with brown streaks. We both look like we’ve been through the Great Battle of Caffeine and lived to tell the tale. Nora would be the queen we’re fighting for, one of us getting to take the crown and be her king.
Before my imagination can carry me to a land far, far away, Aiden takes another step toward me and waves his hand. “So, I’m gonna take a break, ’kay?”
“Sure.” I glance to Nora and nod. “That’s fine with me—we’re empty out here anyway.”
I need to sweep the trash from the floor and wipe coffee rings and muffin crumbs off the tables. I need to fill up the ice bin and wipe off the countertops. The list goes on and on.
Nora gets up from the table and runs her fingers through her hair. I grab a rag and walk out from behind the bar.
“He’s nice, huh?” Nora points her thumb to the back room, toward Aiden.
“He’s okay.” I shrug, not wanting Aiden to hear us talking about him. He’s obnoxious, but I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings or anything. I know how it feels to have people talk about you as if you aren’t listening, and it sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Well, maybe a few people, but Aiden isn’t one of them.
“He reminds me of King Joffrey.” Nora laughs, covering her mouth.