I ask it quickly and pour it into his cup, hoping he won’t run away again.
“Thanks.”
“What happened? When we first met, you liked me. Then, something in your brain flipped, and now you hate me. Is it really my dad? I hate that fucker too, you know.”
Torren stares at me, his eyes connected with mine, with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Did I do something? Say something?”
He says nothing. Then his mouth falls open, then he shuts it again. He sighs. “Felix…I”
There’s a crash in the back, and I hear Maggie scream. I run back and see that she’s dropped a column of dishes, and shards are everywhere.
“I’ll get the broom.”
Once everything is cleaned up, I run back to the floor…
But he’s gone.
Damnit.
Friday
I’m so proud of myself. It’s my fourth day, and I feel really good. Maggie told me it feels like I’ve worked here longer, and Gilda loves me.
I’m starting to remember some of the customers’ names, and I feel confident for the first time in ages.
Torren, my handsome brute, still won’t talk to me, but there’s time for that. Right now, I’m just happy that I’m succeeding at this new experience.
Speak of the devil.
The door jingles, and Torren walks in with Gabe.
Our eyes lock, and he stands there. For a moment, I think he might turn on his heels and leave, but he takes a deep breath and slowly approaches the counter, where I’m currently standing, and cautiously takes a seat with Gabe. “Coffee. Black.” He motions to Gabe. “He’ll take cream and sugar. Two donuts: a double chocolate for him and an old-fashioned one for me.”
He doesn’t even look at me as he rattles off his order, and the urge to tell him to say please isalmosttoo strong to resist.
I decide I’m going to play nice for a change and ask, “How’s your day going?”
Gabe gives me a thumbs up, but Torren continues averting his gaze.
Hmmm…
“Day not going so well?” I pointedly ask Torren.
Torren looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “It would be better if you got my order.”
Well, fuck you, too.
I snag a double chocolate with a tissue paper, then reach forthe old-fashioned donut, but stop. I look at it; it’s brown and dull—that urge from before, the desire to taunt him, returns, and this time, I can’t resist.
I think Mr. Leather Daddy could use something with a little more pizzazz.
I grab a Boston cream with rainbow sprinkles and set the plates before them.
Torren eyes the plate, then looks at me with malice in his eyes. “I said an old-fashioned.”
I feign contrition, my hands on either side of my face like I made the most horrendous mistake imaginable. “I’m so sorry,sir.”He notices the “sir.”Good, I want him too.“I’ll fix this right away.”
