7. Juliana

SEVEN

JULIANA

I did think on it.

Every hour. Minute. Second. Every waking moment, for the past two days. His fingers grazing against my shoulder. His touch down my back, on my jaw, applying pressure at the nape of my neck. The way he tilted my chin upwards, his gaze consuming mine. And the kiss we almost—

Almost nothing! a voice roars in my conscious. That was all an act. Testing the waters of this hypothetical scenario, it reminds me, for perhaps the fifteenth time. Hayden Kingston doesn't have that kind of power over you.

Right... That's right. For the past forty-eight hours, I didn't think about that... little rehearsal Hayden and I had. But of the lengths I'm willing to go to further my career. Even right now, as I grind a batch of coffee beans for the lady in red's latte, I can't shake the thoughts of my brother's best friend's fake dating proposition. Although, I already made up my mind last night. A decision I know I'll regret.

Slipping into autopilot, I pour the grounds into the portafilter, before securing the metallic handle into the espresso machine. With one press of a button, it whirrs to life, the familiar sound usually fading into the background. But now, the grinder is somehow jarring, disturbing my brain like a shaken beehive, buzzing conspiracies around in my headspace.

Maybe this really is an elaborate prank, one he's ultra committed to. Being a billionaire's son, I'm sure he's got time to kill. All his friends must be in on it, too. They've probably been laughing their asses off since the moment I texted him last night, agreeing to such madness. Which would explain why he didn't text me for two straight days. He doesn't actually need this; his father's not really threatening his trust fund...

The machine quiets, and a green light flashes with a beep. I snatch the paper cup now filled with espresso, labeled Heather , then pour steamed milk from a pitcher. My wrist sways from side to side with precision before bringing a line up the middle, forming a perfect, frothy tulip.

Maybe I just imagined it all.

I swipe a towel around the rim, cleaning up spillage.

Maybe I didn't really go on a date with Hayden.

Armed with a flawless latte, I make for the pickup counter...

Yes. The whole thing was a fever dream. I didn't really—

My toe catches on something hard. I gasp as my world tumbles down, down, down. "Oof!" I smack against the ground, and brown liquid darts across the checkered tile.

Before I can register what happened, Mei's glittery sneakers stop a hair's breadth from my nose. "Shit, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I croak out. "I'm fine." Rising to my hands and knees, I discover a brown pool dripping down my front. Luckily, my apron took the brunt of it, or I would've been seriously burned.

An annoyed sigh sounds from over the counter. "Oh, that's just great." Fully aware of who I'll see, I lift my head to a pair of arms looming over the counter, folded across a studious red blazer.

Once Mei helps me to my feet, I note the crowd of customers gathered behind the woman. Humiliation scorches my cheeks as Heather taps her heel, eyeing Mei. "Is she new or something? I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

Am I new??? I've been working here for two years!

Mei stills beside me, shadows looming across her dark eyes as she stares at the woman. Oh, no... In her hand, a metallic pitcher shakes—a pitcher she chucked at the last customer who yelled at me. The incident nearly got us both fired.

But that's the thing. Mei took this part-time job to fill up some of her free time while at university. She comes from money and, frankly, doesn't need a dime. Me, on the other hand? I need every dime I can get, and I can't risk losing this job over one mouthy customer.

"Mei," I hiss under my breath. "It's fine, really."

Her gaze darts to me, the crazy in her eyes dimming slightly.

Heather scoffs, snapping her fingers. "What're you two doing?"— Oh my god, lady, if you know what's good for you, shut up, shut up— "Make me another."

Milk splashes next to our feet, joining the coffee still dripping from my apron, as Mei's pitcher now buzzes with hostility, seconds from going airborne. But before she hucks the thing and kisses both our jobs goodbye, I pry the pitcher out of her hands, earning a glare. She's about to argue, when Heather strikes again. This time with a nasally hellooooo?

Mei whips her head. "You can take your latte and shove it right up your—"

I yank her hand. "Coming right up!"

For a fleeting moment, wariness flashes in Heather's gaze, before her superiority complex returns. "You've wasted enough of my time. I want a refund."

Another retort flies out of Mei's mouth, which I cut off. "Totally understandable—my apologies." I plaster on the fakest smile I can muster. "I'll ring you up over here."

When Mrs. Entitled is out the door, we've mopped the floors, and I'm wearing a fresh apron, Mei says, "You've been acting strange today."

I freeze, already well-aware of that fact, including the reason why.

"And I'm not even saying that because of your fall."

Playing it cool, I lean against the counter. "Have I?"

"Yeah, you have. For a couple days now, actually."

I shrug, avoiding her prying eyes. "Maybe it's the weather." But I want to kick myself the instant the words slip off my tongue. In the same breath, both our eyes flicker toward the bustling streets outside, to the sunrays trickling through the windows, then back to each other. "Uhm... I meant—"

"Oh my god!" Mei squeals. "I knew it! I knew something happened with that guy from Charmr. You just played it off, didn't you? Saying he was boring and all that... Oh, you did!"

An uncontrollable smile spreads across my lips, one I can't decipher is from the good or the bad that occurred that night. The good being the heat, the touching, the— well, wait, that's bad too! And the bad-bad, being that I agreed to a fake relationship, which Mei can never know about because... because that's just frickin' weird.

Seated at the bistro tables lining the windows, customers turn their heads and lift their eyebrows, failing to deter another wave of girlish squeals.

"You have to tell me everything!" Mei scampers over. "What does he do? I bet he works on Wall Street, or he's a salesman—or a lawyer. Did he pay the bill? Oh, who am I kidding? By the looks of him, he screamed money. Of course he paid..."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Mei."

"Did he take you back to his place after?! I bet that's why you won't fess up—you two totally hooked up—"

"Mei!"

She sucks in a breath. Holding it, she searches my gaze, and suddenly I'm in a police station sporting handcuffs, with a detective angling a bright light in my eyes. Her jaw drops. "You so did! The guilt is written all over your face."

"No, we didn't do anything!" I hiss, dragging her into the backroom, lest people on the sidewalk hear her interrogation.

My nose scrunches. If the harsh smell of coffee grounds didn't tell me that I've entered the cramped storage room, then the annoying flappy door with a little circular window certainly does. With one step, I've abandoned cozy vibes for the stockroom of some rundown kitchen.

Eeeee, errrrr, eeeee, errrrr, the door wails on its hinges, each sway revealing customers who shake their heads, obviously sick and tired of all the girly outbursts, here at The Caffeine Cove. Mei purses her lips like she always does, waiting out the creaks.

Once in silence, she starts back up. "Where was his apartment?! Tell me he lives on The Upper West Side. Did he drive you? Shit, did you two even make it to his place before you—"

"Mei!" I scream for what feels like the tenth time. "For criminy sakes, we didn't sleep together. You really think I'd lose my V-card after one dinner?"

She deflates like a balloon. "I guess you're right. I shouldn't get my hopes up over a potential one-night stand."

"Act—" I shut my trap, internally scolding myself. I nearly corrected her, but she doesn't know I grew up with Hayden. Damn, I gotta get my stories straight!

Her eyes turn into slits. "But something did happen."

It's a statement. Not a question. One I can't steer myself from, not without a sprinkle of truth. Mei knows me too well.

I shrug, even though at just the thought of him, my clothes feel suffocatingly hot, the drawstrings of my apron tied too tight around my nape. "Things may have gotten a little bit... handsy at dinner."

Her eyes alight with excitement, brighter than a child's on Christmas morning. "Yes, I —"

"But!" I lift a finger, silencing her. "That was the end of it."

She pouts her full lips, whining. "Whyyyy? He's so easy on the eyes. Seriously, he might be the hottest guy on all of Charmr, and he took you out for steak."

"Well, I called things off. I want more than a pretty face. And to be honest, he wasn't as hot in person," I lie through my teeth, hoping it'll resonate with my brain.

"Ohh, no." Her face contorts. "You got catfished?"

Biting down on a laugh, I imagine how furious Hayden would be hearing his name and catfish remotely used in the same sentence. Unfortunately for him, he's not here to defend himself.

I sigh, feigning disappointment. "Yep, I guess I did."

"Don't worry, you happen to live in the largest city in the whole country. There are plenty more fish to fry." She pats me on the shoulder, right as I spot our next customer walk in.

My pulse jumps.

Tall, with a gorgeous head of dirty-blond hair, all eyes gravitate to the man who, despite it being summer, wears plaid pants and a stylish long overcoat. A coat I'd recognize anywhere...

Noting my statue-like state, Mei follows the line of my gaze through the small window. With a breathless inhale, she gapes, staring just as shamelessly as I am. "Juliana... that doesn't look like a catfish to me."