Page 6 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

I’d like to see this guy’s dick, even if it talks, too. I bet it’s huge and he knows how to use it. He just seems like the type. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with muscular arms and dark eyes that can see right down to my soul… which is good, considering that soul is trapped in an espresso machine.

He’s dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. Not my usual style, I have to admit, unless they happen to be designer, which his are clearly not—but he makes them work. I’d take him any way I could get him—even in one of those paper bags they put your designer purse in before you leave the store.

His black hair is too long and somewhat unkempt. There’s also a leaf stuck in it, and I wish I had hands so I could use it as an excuse to touch him.

A wave of electricity zaps through me. It warms me from my knobs down to my nozzle, which is yet another reminder that he’s a hunk and I’m a hunk of metal. He’s hot, and the only hot thing about me are my coffees. He’s the epitome of steam, and the only steam I bring is in one of those cups. I don’t even have cups. Or breasts. Or a body. Or…

“Diva!” Nephrite shouts, and I realize that I’m shooting literal steam everywhere.

The hot guy jumps back as though I burned him. Shit! I’ve actually burned him.

His mouth drops open, his body grows tense, and he falls to the floor, stiff as the mast of a sailboat.

“I killed him!” I wail so loudly I think the entire terminal hears.

Something inside me shatters. He’s dead. The hottest guy I’ve ever met is gone because of me. I didn’t think my steam was that hot.

People start screaming and running away. A group of cops with red stripes on their pants and hats race toward us.

“You’re under arrest,” an officer tells Neph.

“But I didn’t do anything,” she cries as they pin her wrists behind her back and snap on handcuffs.

I need to help her, but talking to human cops is not the way to go. Whenever I’ve tried talking to humans, they’ve always tried to find a logical explanation—the most common being that there’s a hidden speaker somewhere or Neph is a ventriloquist. And I don’t need her to get into any more trouble than she’s already in.

Maybe I can spray the cops and take them down too? But I might hit Neph, and I can’t risk killing my best friend. Though she’s a barista… she should be immune to steam, shouldn’t she? Or did being unplugged for the flight mess me up?

“It’s not what you think,” she tells the officers. “The espresso machine malfunctioned. She didn’t mean to do it.”

Another officer crouches next to the hunk and presses two fingers to his neck. “He’s still alive,” he declares.

I sigh in relief, and a little bit of steam spurts from my nozzle. I didn’t kill the hunky hunk after all!

The officer presses down on the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. “We need an ambulance at—”

The hunk sits up and the cop leaps back. “I’m okay! Just umm… the floor looked very comfortable, and I got very tired after lifting the espresso machine.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” I cry.

“Who said that?” the cop demands.

The hunk starts to get to his feet.

“Sir, please remain still until the medics arrive,” the cop says.

“No, no, no, no,” the hunk says and reaches into his pocket to pull out a card. “It’s a medical condition. Narcolepsy.”

Woohoo, it wasn’t my fault!

An officer takes the card, examines it for several seconds, and hands it back to him. “That checks out. I think you should still wait to see a medic.”

“It happens all the time. I’m fine,” he says. “I must have startled Nephrite here when I fell asleep.”

The cops glance at each other, shrug, and uncuff Neph. She rubs her wrists as though the binds had hurt her. The cops don’t even apologize as they stroll away. If I wasn't trapped in an espresso machine, I’d have my lawyers on them!

“I’m so sorry,” Hunk-o-matic says.

“You should have a warning about your narcolepsy on your ChorePossum profile,” Neph tells him.