Page 86 of The Monster I Am
Rylan pauses, glancing at me from over the top of his phone. “I’m quite partial to spleens. Also that’s how I wooed you. I collected some of your blood from the warehouse cage and did a love spell.”
“Fairly certain you fell for me first,” I point out.
“Oh, so you admit you did a spell on me too?”
“Nope. Just made a charity donation on your behalf out of the goodness of my heart. It was my selfless act that won you over. Or the booty shorts. Actually, yes—that was the moment you fell in love with me. Being in my pants has that effect. You’re welcome.”
He finishes tapping out our order, shaking his head. It is kind of cute that I don’t even need to tell him what I like anymore. He just knows and always orders the right thing.
It’s still a little baffling seeing this side of the guys. Never in a million years would I picture them asromantics. They keep surprising me though. Between the cute little gestures, and tag teaming date ideas, I’m a little smitten with the WillowbrookKings. Maybe I died in the fire and went to Hell. But if that’s the case, this is a level of burning I’m cool with.
After dinner, we’re joined by Tai and Hunter, the three of us switching to a graphic design study sesh. Every waking minute is occupied by either school, study, or trying to solve the fire mystery.
Everything has been hectic since we found the door. We keep trying to find mutual free time as a group to dig deeper into it, but somehow we keep getting caught up with other things and can’t seem to get our schedules to line up. It also doesn’t help that every time I do try to bring up what we discovered, Ry deflects and changes the topic of conversation.
Ry is right in that coffee will help with my sleep deprivation because I have no idea how I’ll manage with adding a job into the mix. But I need to take what I can get. Finding work has been difficult and now that I’ve been offered something, I’d be stupid to refuse.
It’s only a few weeks anyway. Once final exams are over and we graduate, I’ll have more time to rest.
I just have to survive first.
“Bexley, this is Elliott. He’ll be working this shift and will help train you,” Hazel says, pointing to the man by the coffee machine.
His shaggy light brown hair just about falls into his eyes, almost hiding the amber orbs. He pivots his body toward us slightly, hands still working on levers and buttons.
“Hey!” Elliott greets enthusiastically. “Welcome to the madhouse. I’ve just got these four—no—five orders to smash out and I’ll be right with you.”
I smile politely. “No rush. It’s nice to meet you, Elliott.”
He grins, lips curling over his teeth. “It’s nothing butrush rush rushhere, love. But that’s part of the fun, no?”
Hazel places a soft hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let him scare you. He’s buzzed on the beans. But you’re in good hands.”
“Bean buzz is good.”
Elliott lets out a booming laugh from the other end of the counter, arms moving so fast that they start to blur. “She says thatnow. Let’s see how she feels by close.”
“Like I said… you’ll be fine,” Hazel says warmly. “I’ll be in and out of the office if you need me. Jessa is also on cashier so give her a shout if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I nod, waiting patiently as Elliott turns into an octopus, slinging drinks along the counter.
There’s finally a small gap in customers, and without missing a beat, Elliott waves me over to the coffee station. I walk over nervously, eyes scanning the machine and surroundings.
This can’t be too difficult.
Famous last words.
“Our syrups are over there, creamers and cold foams by the machine here, and all the special little bits like toasted coconut flakes and sprinkles. If Jessa, or whoever is cashiering that day, is free, they will do the smoothies and shakes. We also have toasted sandwiches. They are already pre-made in the glass cabinet so when the order comes through, we just slap it on the toaster behind us.”
Okay, shit. Maybe a teeny-tiny bit difficult.
“I’m a latte girlie. Or Americano if I’m super tired. Do you have a cheat sheet or anything on the other types of coffees?”
Elliott grins wildly, suddenly whipping out a folder from under the counter. “Ta-da! The Bean Bible. Everything is categorized by type of drink, then in alphabetical order for your viewing pleasure.”
He hands it over just as the printer buzzes to life, spitting out a ticket.
“Alright. This is nice and easy to start with. Seven pumps of vanilla, three pumps of caramel, four white mocha, nonfat, extra ice.”
