—US Lyric Bot [@HourlyUs]
Mom insisted that I sleep in, eat a proper breakfast, and come to work late. I tried to protest, but she said she was fine to be there before her physical therapy session.
So I’d gotten enough sleep and a full meal, which was why, when I walked into the café, I was confused about why I’d be hallucinating.
How else would you explain why Phillip Maan—theBritish teen heartthrob—was standing behind the counter, wearing a Tiny Tiger apron, and talking in an American accent that sounded like some sort of San Diego surfer with sunstroke?
“Yo,” he greeted. “’Sup, gorgeous? I’m Benjamin. How can I help you today?”
“Uh...” I glanced at Leon, Aspen, and Amber, who seemed to accept this as normal. “What are you doing, Phillip?”
“It’sBenjamin,” he emphasized, gesturing to the sticker badge on his shirt. “Ben, to my close personal friends and family. And also pretty customers. So, on second thought,” he said suavely, leaning across the counter, “youcan call me whatever you like, love.”
Right. Okay. So this was an alternate universe. Nice. Maybe the café was doing awesome in this dimension and I was minor royalty.
“Is this supposed to be you going incognito?” I asked, dubious that being undercover worked if you actively flirted that hard.
Phillip nodded. “No one’s recognized me at all so far. Not in this disguise.”
He pointed up at his baseball cap that sported an embroidered orange octopus sayingHang Eight, Mate!as it clung to a purple surfboard.
“Bargain Barn?” I asked.
“It’s mine, actually,” Leon piped up.
Yeah, that checked out. “So what are you doing behind the counter,Ben?”
“Fixing your—please forgive me for saying this—rather dismal menu.”
“Well, since you said it so charmingly.”
“Was that sarcasm? I’m sensing an undertone of sarcasm. Anyway,” Phillip continued, “I found your lack of foamed milk disturbing, so I asked Amber to make some for me and shesaid...” He snapped his fingers and pointed at her to come in on cue.
“No way was I doing that,” Amber supplied.
“Yes, exactly, thank you,” Phillip continued, unruffled by this. “So I kicked Amber out and frothed my own milk. Then a customer came in, saw my drink, thought it was on the menu, ordered one, and, well, I’m a barista now.”
I glanced over at Amber. “You’re okay with this?”
She shrugged, kicking back in her chair. “I’m still getting paid.”
“Cappuccino art?” Phillip questioned pleasantly, sliding over a cup to me.
Which featured a heart in the center.
I shouldn’t have spent yesterday worried about if they could run the café without me. I should’ve been worried they could run the cafébetterthan me. I raised the cup to my lips and took a sip. “Oh my God, you’re amazing.”
Phillip beamed. “That’s the reaction I usually get.”
“Ugh,” Aspen said with a mock gag while Leon mimicked him. “I just threw up in my mouth a little.”
“Don’t make me take the compliment back,” I warned Phillip, before glancing through the glass at the cat room, where I saw my mother with her leg propped up. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s fine,” Amber assured me. “A woman from the shelter stopped by looking for someone to take care of two kittens and—”
Oh my God, kittens?
“And she’s gone,” Amber finished in amusement as I rushed into the cat room, barely able to contain my excitement.
