I was desperate enough not to care either way… every night when I went home and stashed the cash I’d gotten from tips in a jar I kept hidden behind the cleaning supplies under the sink in the kitchen, I felt the lure of impending freedom just a little more keenly. And yesterday when I’d gone to the bank to cash my first paycheck, I’d wanted to run all the way home and empty the jar so I could count all my money and marvel over how much there was.
Yeah, to someone like Billy it was a piddly amount, but to me it was like I’d won the fucking lottery.
What I hadn’t expected as Emily had given me more hours was the bite of guilt that had come along with knowing I’d be leaving her in the lurch when Billy returned. She’d already started teaching me how to make some of the cold blended drinks with the intent of eventually putting me behind the ginormous espresso machine someday as a full-time barista, a job that paid more than I made now. I hadn’t had the heart to tell her she was wasting her time.
I couldn’t stay even if I wanted to.
Which I did.
And not just because of Emily.
A certain someone I shared initials with had been driving me crazy all week long… and not in the way I’d expected. In the end, Aiden hadn’t asked me out again, and he hadn’t started ignoring me like I’d thought he would after I’d turned him down. No, he’d gone back to being sweet and funny and charming and flirty in a harmless way. And he’d continued to ply me with some of Emily’s delicious treats, including the evil toffee bars that Aiden had been right about— I very easily could have spent my entire paycheck on the damn things.
I’d been relieved that first day when Aiden hadn’t asked me out again, but by the second day I’d been something else.
Confused at first. Then… disappointed.
Then stunned by my reaction.
How the hell could I be disappointed? I didn’t want Aiden to ask me out again. I didn’t want to go out with him! I mean, shit, he’d read my journal. He knew things about me that I’d never wanted anyone to know. The guy was a jerk for reading my most private thoughts.
Except I’d known that to be a lie as soon as I’d thought it.
Because I’d seen the pain in his eyes when he’d admitted to me why he’d read it… that he’d felt some kind of weird kinship with me… with my words. Then he’d called me brave.
And I’d wanted to cry and admit to him that I wasn’t. That I was such a fucking coward I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder every five seconds while I practically ran to work each morning and home again. That I jerked awake at every sound in my apartment night after night, afraid Billy had come home to finish what he’d started the night he’d left. That every time Emily called me honey or Aiden said my name in that husky way of his, I wanted to curl myself around the warm feelings that invaded the pit of my belly.
It was utter insanity.
And I was becoming addicted to it.
I’d started dreaming about being behind that stupid espresso machine making drinks and looking up every time the door chimed, but not to see if it was Billy. No, in my dream I was watching for Aiden and when he did walk through that door, he ignored the people in line and walked right up to the end of the counter, eyes only for me, and leaned across the small divide before brushing his mouth over mine. He never cared who was watching as he wished me a good morning and then returned to the back of the line to wait his turn to get his drink.
Utter insanity.
“Ash, honey, here you go,” I heard Emily say as her hand brushed my arm. I jerked from my thoughts, but managed not to jump at her touch.
She smiled at me, probably pleased I hadn’t freaked out that she’d touched me. It was something she’d been doing more and more of this past week.
It was something else I was becoming addicted to. It had been a really long time since I’d had someone touch me like that. I’d never had an older sister, or any siblings, for that matter, but a little part of me was wondering if I had, would she have been like Emily?
“Right, thanks,” I said as I handed the cup to the customer and thanked him for stopping by. It was just after four in the afternoon, so the shop was quiet. Since there were no customers in line, I began wiping down some of the counters and checking the pastry cabinet to see if anything needed to be restocked. It was a Saturday afternoon and I only had another hour left on my shift. It had been just under two weeks since I’d started at Beam Me Up Latte, and I was keenly aware that meant I only had two weeks left until Billy returned. He hadn’t called like he’d said he would after the night I’d tried to break things off with him or after the fiasco with the forgotten papers that he’d texted me about. Papers that had been at my apartment and which I’d later thrown into a dumpster on my way to work so Billy wouldn’t find them and realize I’d lied. Things had gone disgustingly back to normal and I hated that. It meant that Billy really hadn’t heard me the night that I’d told him it was over. A little part of me had hoped maybe he’d come to his senses and see that whatever we’d once had didn’t exist anymore. It was one of the many things about Billy I didn’t understand.