“No,” I laughed.
“Well, the love scenes are always the most awkward scenes to shoot,” she sighed. “There are like thirty crew people standing around watching so it’s not romantic at all. I always have to dig deep to pretend we’re ‘making love’ because I’ve never experienced that in real life… I’ve only had sex and everyone says there’s a huge difference between the two. I would like to find out for myself…Maybe you can show me what I’ve been missing one day.”
“Umm,” I smiled. I had no idea how to respond to that.
She turned red and gasped. “My bracelet fell off in the dining room! I’ll be right back!”
I offered to help her find the non-existent bracelet—I’d looked her over enough times tonight to know she’d never been wearing one—but she told me to stay put.
After she supposedly found it “hiding underneath the coffee counter,” we continued cleaning.
We asked each other random questions whenever we took breaks and acted as if our kiss and that comment had never happened.
I couldn’t believe she wasn’t impressed by a lunch date in France. I figured that if she wasn’t impressed by that, then she definitely wouldn’t have been impressed by a night with me at the Botanic Gardens. Then again, her ideal date sounded extremely simple.
“I think that’s it,” she avoided looking at me and bit her lip. “Thanks so much for helping me tonight, Ethan….Joan is waiting for me outside. She’s going to take me back to my hotel.”
She’s so sexy…
I wanted to pull her close and kiss her again, to take her on the kitchen floor and prevent her from going home tonight, but I controlled myself.
“Anytime,” I grabbed my jacket and looked her over one last time. “Good night Selena.”
I hung my apron in the employee room and washed my hands. I was living proof that the life of a coffee barista was a stressful one: I’d been yelled at by ten different customers, reprimanded by Lola for not smiling enough, and burned on my wrists while making endless cups of coffee.
As I boarded my motorcycle outside, I could hear Lola screaming, “Ethan! Ethan!”
I wanted to pretend that I didn’t hear her, to rev up my bike and speed away before she could run over, but I decided not to.
“What’s up, Lola?” I looked over her home-made “Autumn Wonder is my Life” T-shirt and shook my head.
“I’m not one for gossip,” she caught her breath, “but there’s a little rumor going around about certain employees engaging in treacherous behavior…”
Okay. I should have driven off...
I buckled my helmet. “What are you talking about?”
“I drove by Sweet Seasons the other day and I saw our head baker taking his lunch break there! Our head baker! Then, I drove by a couple days ago and saw you there! Ordering pies!”
“Um…”
“Now, I’ll be the first to admit that their pies were better than ours,” she crossed her arms, “but corporate just shipped us some new recipes and I’ve gotta tell you, these new pies are pretty much the same as theirs. So I’m telling you just like I told Jason, to stay far away from Sweet Seasons! They are now our deepest darkest enemy and we don’t fraternize with the enemy! We are officially at war!”
There is no way she passed a drug test…
“Alright Lola. I’ll do my best,” I revved up my bike.
“Do you double latte swear?”
Is it cocaine or heroin? It’s probably both…
“Double latte swear,” I smiled and sped off.
I stopped at a small gas station and loaded up on cokes, chips, and beef jerky. I had the next week off, and I didn’t want to do anything but lounge on my sofa and watch sports.
As soon as I paid for my purchases, my phone vibrated. Selena.
“Hello?”
“Hey Ethan,” her voice was soft. “What are you up to?”
“I’m getting some snacks before heading home for the night. How about you?”
“I’m still at work...”
Maybe I can come over when she gets off…
There was a lingering silence on the line before I coughed. “What time do you get off tonight?”
“I don’t,” she sighed. “I know this may sound selfish or maybe even lame, but I have closing duty again and…I was wondering if you could come help me out one more time. It’s okay if you can’t though. I would completely understand…”
Hell no. No! Does she really consider cleaning a kitchen a “date”? Does she honestly think she has some type of pull over me where I would rather spend my Thursday night hunched over an oil pan, slipping my head inside an oven, or pouring out vats of grease?
“I’ll be over in fifteen,” I said the words without considering my thoughts, without weighing the pros and cons.