“A blueberry muffin and a vanilla latte,” I say, smiling at the girl behind the counter.
She gives me the total, and I pull out my phone. Before swiping my banking app, I check my account. “Holy crap!” I shout.
“Is something wrong?” the cashier asks.
“I…uh…” I mutter, feeling the shock of my situation overcome me. My bank balance is a whopping twenty-six dollars. I don’t even have enough money to feed myself for two days, let alonepay my rent. I back away from the counter slowly, as if I’m a deer spooked by a hunter.
The cashier watches me go, confused but not particularly concerned. Maybe she sees that kind of thing all the time. Maybe people are always shocked by the prices they charge, and it’s no big deal to slink away in abject defeat.
I hold my breath until I’m back on the street, and then the tears start falling. I can’t help it. My body is wound so tight, and I’m full of rage and shame. I hate the man who denied me my dream job because he was such a prick. I hate the muffin for being so damned expensive. I hate myself for having no friends, no job, and quite possibly an eviction notice in the near future. What on earth am I going to do?
I turn around, realizing that whatever happens, I can’t just stand there on the sidewalk crying. I run straight into a guy wearing a sweater with a college logo and expensive blue jeans. I can’t see anything except his solid chest, and the blue fabric covering it.
I stumble back, my hands covering my face. I’m so embarrassed, I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. But he stops me from running away. His voice is soft as he takes me by the shoulders and gazes into my eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, attempting to pull away.
“Freaking out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional?” he teases.
“What?” I demand.
“Fine. That’s what it stands for. I should know,” he says, stepping back to give me space.
I try to compose myself, knowing that he’s just being kind. After my experience in the office across the street, I find it hard to trust a stranger I just met, but this guy doesn’t seem to be staring at my boobs. He looks genuinely concerned.
“I just had a really bad job interview,” I say. “And I’m down to twenty-six dollars in my bank account.”
“I can give you some money,” he offers, going for his wallet.
“No,” I stop him, shaking my head. “I have savings. I just don’t want to tap into it.”
“Ah,” he replies, removing his hand from his back pocket. “Listen, the least I could do is buy you a drink.”
“I think it’s a little early,” I sniff.
“How ’bout a coffee?” he suggests.
I can see that’s what he meant all along. I glance hopefully back at the coffee shop I just left. Maybe I can have that blueberry muffin after all.
“Will you buy me a muffin?” I ask sweetly.
“Sure,” he agrees. “If you’ll tell me what kind of job you’re looking for.”
He holds the door open for me, and I walk back to the scene of my embarrassment. The cashier pretends she doesn’t know me, and that’s just as well. I order my muffin again, and my knight in shining armor pays for it. He grabs a cup of coffee, black, and a bagel, and we choose a seat next to the window.
“I applied to be a paralegal,” I explain.
“That’s great,” the new guy says, seeming way too excited.
“Why is that great?” I ask suspiciously.
“You’re looking for a job, I’m looking for a tutor,” he says. “Seems like the perfect match.”
“What kind of tutor?” I wonder.
“I’m in law school,” he replies. “Trying to help my dad out in the family business, but I don’t really have a head for it. All the case law is so confusing.”
