The wind from outside blows over a stack of napkins. They land all around DJ.
The balloon of panic expands.
“A soy latte?” I try, voice shaky.
“No. Soy chai with the local honey, I said.”
I nod, deciding fewer words are better. “Size?”
“Medium! Twooo of theeem.” She sounds out slowly.
Well. That was unkind and unnecessary. Maybe she’s been having a rough morning.
I nod and tap as fast as I can on the iPad before swiveling it around to face her. We don’t have to talk for her to swipe her card. And I don’t have to guess what the tip amount will be.
I turn to the machines behind me and start on her lattes.
Ding!
“DOOR!” DJ squawks. He has maybe half the boxes assembled so far.
“How’s it coming?” Steven calls. We don’t reply. He’s a regular, and a pushy one at that, so I’m surprised he didn’t just hop into DJ’s assembly line. But I don’t catch a glimpse of his average—average, yet muscular, he’d say—frame or his chestnut head of well-styled hair. I have lattes to finish.
Ding!
“Babe, what’s taking so long with the lattes?” A dude bro guy calls from the door.
“You know, small towns, ugh!” She almost yells back.
“Excuse me,” says one of the men who must be at the counter now, but I’m not turning to look. I’ve only got one latte done.
This is now the perfect 1-star-yelp-storm.
God, why do you hate me?
“Pumpkinapocolypse is a muffin and a cookieanda fudge,” DJ recites out loud. He has all the orders memorized, he’s just malfunctioning because of the balloon.
“Rip!” I reply. My brain mixes right and yup. Because of course it does.
“Rip?” DJ asks me.
“I don’t want any pumpkin, thank you,” says the deep voice.
“They have soy here, believe it or not,” Upset Tourist Lady snorts. I notice her voice has changed, though. Softer, smiley.
“I’ll just need a quick, large house blend black coffee,” the man says to DJ. I turn, knowing this balloon is about to blow. I look up at the man and…
I…
The…
The guy from Bridgerton is in the bakery?
The guy from Bridgerton is in the bakery!
No.
No, it just looks a lot like him. A bigger, darker version. Almost black eyes. Scowl. But a fancy suit and a pristine wool overcoat with the collar flipped up. Like the evil version of Lord Anthony. Old money. Amazing bronzed skin and thick dark hair that looks perfect without being styled. And easily the most handsome human being I’ve ever seen in real life.Sorry Benedict.
