8. Aeri

I make it.

I'm sweaty from running three blocks and about ten minutes late because I got on the wrong bus. But Olga smiles when she unlocks the door and doesn't say a word about it, so I guess she isn't upset.

Over the next thirty minutes, she showed me around the shop, where to get cups, napkins, and everything else, while her husband stocked the baked goods in the display case. The smell of fresh cinnamon rolls and muffins reminded me I'd only had a banana for breakfast. I quickly realized I'd need to eat a better breakfast if I didn't want my stomach to eat itself before my lunch break.

Thankfully, Olga takes pity on me and slides me a cinnamon roll while she teaches me the register. I try to refuse and tell her I'm fine, but she doesn't buy it. Not that I can blame her; my stomach isn't really helping me sound convincing.

I try to pace myself so I don't scarf it down, but I can't. It's easily the best cinnamon roll I've ever had, and that's saying something with my love of sweets.

Olga chuckles as I lick my fingers clean before grabbing a napkin to wipe them off.

"Sorry," I tell her, feeling embarrassed.

"No need to apologize, dear. I know how good they are." She turns to look at her husband as he walks by, and he smiles at her as if sensing her gaze. "How do you think he got me to marry him?" she laughs, and he shakes his head as he continues stocking the rest of the shelf.

"Don't let her lie to you. It was my good looks that got her. My baking just kept her happy." They both laugh at that, and I can't help but join in; they're adorable.

"Do you feel comfortable with the register?" Olga asks, turning her attention back to me, and I nod. Thankfully, it seems about the same as the one I used at my last job, so I don't see myself having an issue. "Wonderful. We have a few orders to bake today, so we'll just be in the back should you have any questions. Don't hesitate to ask us should you need to."

She makes her way to the front of the store, flipping the lock and turning on the neon open sign.

"Oh, and please help yourself to some coffee and a treat." With that, she's gone, leaving me at the register to fend for myself.

Please don't let me fuck this up.

The first hour wasn't so bad. People slowly trickled in, most of whom were friendly enough and seemed like regulars. They knew what they wanted and would either take off once they had their stuff or sit and eat. The line got to be about six people long before I got the groove, but after the first rush, I felt like I was going to do okay here.

"Here you go. One Americano and a lemon poppy seed muffin." The girl takes her order with a smile before dropping her change in the tip cup and walking away. It's silly, but I can't help but feel giddy about it, even if it was probably less than a dollar. I'd been so sure my car breaking down was a sign, some kind of foreshadowing that was telling me I was bound to fail.

The line's just about gone now. All I have left is a middle-aged man, and I hurry to the register to take his order. He seems normal enough, dressed up as if headed to an office. He's nothing special, just an average Joe, but something about the way his eyes roam over me gives me the creeps. I have to force myself to keep up the smile that had just been so effortless a few minutes ago. He takes longer than necessary to tell me his order, and I'm not sure if I'm imagining it or he's slowly leaning forward over the bar toward me.

I'm happy to move away to make his coffee, but all too quickly, it's ready, and I have to go back to him.

"Here you go." I try to sound pleasant, but I'm not sure it rings true. He doesn't seem to catch it, though. Instead, when he reaches for his cup, he grips my fingers, holding my hand captive.

"How about you grab that pen," he nods toward the pen on the counter meant for customers to sign with, but I don't follow his gaze. "And put your number down on my cup so I can take you out later."

My face twists up with disgust before I can stop myself, and I know he doesn't miss it. I can tell by the way his smile drops and his fingers tighten around mine, almost hard enough to crush the cup.

Honestly, though, what did he expect? There's no way this type of thing really works on people… Right?

"Too good for me, bitch?" he seethes, using his hold on my hand to pull me closer.

The bell rings, signaling someone has just entered the store, but I'm frozen, unable to move or look away from this guy who's holding my hand hostage. I'm supposed to greet everyone as they walk through the door. Olga said it's important because it helps make people feel welcome, and while I agree, right now, I wish this guy would leave and never come back.

Someone loudly clears their throat behind the asshole customer I'm dealing with, and I jump back a foot when he finally releases me with a huff, turning to face whoever had the balls to interrupt him.

"Mind your own busine—" his words die off as soon as he turns around, and that's enough to get my attention. I hadn't realized just how quiet the cafe had become in the last few minutes. I don't need to look around to feel the eyes of everyone on me, but one set has my skin itching.

"Asta?" I stop the confusion from bleeding into my voice, making his name sound more like a question.

The asshole who'd been happy to hold me captive a moment ago stands with his back to me against the counter, and while I can't see his face, I can guess he's uncomfortable. How could you not be with someone like Asta towering over you? The man is a giant and will likely snap your neck if you look at him wrong.

"Is there a problem?" Asta's eyes remain locked on mine, not so much as glancing at the other man.

"N-no. Nothing wrong here. I was just trying to ask her out, is all."

I scowl at the back of his head at his bald-faced lie, but say nothing. If I want to keep this job, I can't afford to make more of a scene than I already have.

"Aeri?" Asta's demanding tone has me looking back up to meet his eyes, and I'm surprised by what I find there.

His eyes almost burn into me as if daring me to lie, but beyond that, I can see anger there—anger I don't think is meant for me.

The asshole chances a quick peek at me over his shoulder, and I see the panic in his eyes.

Good.

If there weren't so many people standing around watching, I'd happily let him continue to sweat. But everyone's watching, and it's my first day. This isn't the kind of impression I was hoping to make.

"I'm fine." My voice comes out much quieter than I'd intended, and I hate how pitiful it makes me sound.

Asta holds my gaze for a moment longer, and it takes everything inside me not to look away under the weight of his stare.

Finally, he looks away. It's not until I see his eyes harden as he peers down at the guy in front of him that I realize there had been a softness there for me to begin with.

"Leave."

The second the word is out of his mouth, the guy is moving, leaving his donut on the counter in his haste.

Asta smoothes a hand down his deep red suit, even though there's not a wrinkle in sight. I watch his hand as it trails down his chest, regardless.

Damn, this man is literally a walking red flag, and somehow I'm not sure I've ever been more attracted to someone I've had so little interaction with.

"Americano with an extra shot, two seconds of cream, and a cinnamon roll."

I hear him, but it takes me a second to realize what exactly he's said and even longer before I can make myself move.

"Ughhhh. Oh, right, okay." Shaking my head, I finally pull my eyes off of him and get back to my job. His coffee is easy enough, but for some reason I can't help but chuckle as I pull the cinnamon roll from the cabinet for him. He isn't the type to strike me as having a sweet tooth. If I had guessed, I would have thought he would go for one of the savory flavors or maybe even the lemon poppy seed.

Yuck.

With his bun in the bag and his drink ready, I turn to ring up his order, only to find him watching me with a fifty-dollar bill already on the counter. It's two steps from where I am back to the register, but I'll be damned if his gaze doesn't have me almost tripping over my feet like a fool.

I quickly set his things down before I have the chance to spill his drink, either on myself or, worse, on him. Before I can even make it to the register, he's reaching for his things.

"Keep the change."

What!?

No way, I just heard him right. His order couldn't be more than seven dollars.

"I'll see you at the house."

And just like that, he's gone, leaving me with my jaw on the damn floor in an attempt to understand what just happened.

"You know Asta?!" The girl I'd served before the creep is standing near the register, her eyes still on the door as if she might be able to catch another glimpse of him if she looks hard enough. When I don't say anything, she turns to look my way, and I swear she has stars in her eyes. It's as if she's a child, and I just told her I personally know Santa Claus.

"Um, yes…" I say, unsure of my answer. Technically, I do know him—I live with him—but I don't really know him, no more than anyone else here probably does.

Actually, speaking of. "How did you know his name?" I ask, and she laughs.

"Everyone knows Asta. He runs one of the hottest clubs in the city, is loaded, and hello, have you seen him? He's like the most eligible bachelor." She pouts, letting out a little huff. "What I wouldn't give to catch his eye like that. Oh, I know! Maybe I just need to find a way to get him to stick up for me like you did!"

"Um, no, I don't recommend that…" I try to tell her, but it's clear she's not listening. She walks away, mumbling to herself, and I get the feeling that it isn't going to end well for her.

Ugh, today is going to be a long day.

"Don't sweat it. He's more than used to it." I look up to find a girl standing at the counter. She hadn't been there a minute ago, right?

She smiles at me, and I take a second to look her over.

She's tiny, shorter than I am, with bright orange hair, but unlike the other girl who just came up, she's looking at me instead of through me.

Yeah, I doubt I missed her before. She must have snuck in during the commotion.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I tell her, letting out a sigh of relief and letting go of my concern. This isn't up to me to handle; that girl is grown; she can make her own choices and mistakes.

"I'm Lea." She smiles, and something about her feels so genuine that I can't help but smile back, even after whatever the hell that just was.

"Aeri."

Things begin to form a pattern after that.

Asta comes in at the same time for the same order every day, and after the third day, I catch on and have it ready. I swear, his lip twitched the first time I had it waiting for him at the counter. For a moment, I think he might actually smile, but instead, he grunts a thank you, drops his fifty, and leaves.

One of these days, I'm going to ask him if he knows how much he's overpaying. It's hard to know for sure with him. Is he just oblivious, or is that his way of being nice? Either way, I can't complain. Olga lets me keep all the tips, so it only helps me rebuild my savings faster.

Lea comes in every day, too, and despite not wanting to make friends and form attachments, she's hard not to talk to. She's got an energy that's almost addictive, and I find myself laughing with her easily.

While sneaking out for my shift in the morning has been going pretty well, it's not as easy to come in unnoticed. Asta is hardly ever at the house, but most of the time Bast is, and sometimes even Kai. I never know what I'm going to get when I walk through the door. It could be quiet, curious eyes, or glares, as if I personally did something wrong.

Bast has started to come around. Yesterday, he asked me how my day was before he ran, and tonight, he left a note on my door letting me know he'd cooked spaghetti for dinner if I was hungry. It's still strange to have him dodging me, but also almost kind of sweet and adorable.

The worst news comes a few days after I start my job, though, when Ruin messages me with an update on my car. Apparently, the transmission they needed is on backorder, so it would probably be another week or longer before they even get the part to start on it.

Not at all the news I wanted, but there's nothing I can do about it. At this point, I've gotten the hang of the bus stops enough to get to work and back to the apartment. Even if my car was fixed now, I would probably just park it while I saved up money. The traffic here is crazy, not to mention the price of gas and the fact that anywhere you park has a meter. No, I'd easily eat through my small paycheck if I were driving myself.

I guess it all works out for now.