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“Why are you sleeping in your car, Atlas?”
I cringe at the command in his voice as I sink back onto the seat and pull my knees against my chest. “Waiting for a tow and then I fell asleep. I missed the call so I’ll have to try tomorrow.” Lies come too easily when I’m trying to hide the state of my affairs. It’s too bad that Lance doesn’t believe it for a second.
“Your car has been here for the better part of three days. I can call one for you and they’ll pick it up in the next hour.”
I jump to my feet, waving my hands. “No! I’ll… just give me one more day. Please.” The thought of what it would cost for a tow plus having to deal with the repairs now rather than after my finals pains me. I don’t even want to think about it.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, it’s finals week and I was studying and waiting and then fell asleep.” I know for a fact that my lie is falling apart because who in their right mind would sleep in their car rather than in a warm bed at home? Any normal person would have called an Uber or a friend and come back the next day. I’m just hoping that Lance won’t kick me off the property. There’s only a few hours until the café opens at 6 am.
Lance shakes his head, laughing but I get the feeling it’s not at my misfortune, just how anxious I am. “You’re a horrible liar. The boss will have my ass if I let you stay out here so at least sleep in the lounge where it’s warm? I know you well enough that you’re not going to destroy the place and I’ll feel better that you’re actually getting some rest. Besides, you make the boss’ coffee. You’re harmless.”
My face contorts as I move around the car to grab a bag of clean clothes. “Does everyone know that?” I’m not sure I like the entire building thinking I’m just Raphael’s personal errand boy.
“Pretty obvious with that stupid smile he gets when he walks in there or the way you cradle his coffee when he calls you up. Atlas, don’t be embarrassed. The boss hasn’t smiled like that in a while. I love that for him. He needs it.”
I don’t respond because that’s not a conversation I want to continue. Following Lance into the building, I run up the stairs to the lounge and find a particularly dark corner that is away from the main entrance. The gym opens at 6 am and I’ll need to be downstairs at 5:30 so it’s likely that no one will even catch me sleeping in here. The cushions are much more comfortable than my car and the heat vent that I find near my chair is heavenly. No doubt Lance is watching me get comfortable through one of the many cameras but I don’t care; this is perfect.
My phone alarm wakes me and I scramble to the showers to quickly wash up, brush my teeth, and don my uniform which just consists of a plain shirt, pants, and the god-awful brown apron we’re required to wear. I barely make it to the café in time for the beginning of my shift, one of the newer employees—Paula—eyeing me suspiciously. She’s a year older than me which somehow translates to seniority in her head.
“Why are you running like that? You’re also late,” Paula pushes out. “Just because you make the boss’ coffee, doesn’t mean that you get special privileges.” She sticks her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side. Paula is the most straight-laced employee out of the four that work here—Gerald, Tracey, and I included. Her uniform consists of a white shirt and pressed black dress pants. Her black hair is always pulled into a tight black bun which reminds me of June.
Which also means I automatically don’t like her.
“Look, I get no special treatment. Heather will write me up for being late—if she cared. A few minutes late doesn’t do anything but this stupid conversation we’re having is taking up valuable time to turn on the machines and get ready for the morning rush.” I throw a rather harsh glare at her before readying the espresso machine, the Frappuccino machine, and a few others. Paula talks a big game but she has no idea how to man any of these stations. I’ll be glad when Tracey shows up.
We work in silence for the next half hour, my heart jumping into my chest when Raphael strolls to the counter. He looks a little less put together than usual. Raphael dons a navy blue suit with a black button-down and tie which is pristine as always. It’s the hair that’s different. Rather than the slicked-back, polished style he sports, today it’s just there. Dark chocolate and silver strands mussed on his head, a few strays dangling down to the beginning of his sharp cheekbones.
He still looks professional.
He also looks hotter than usual and I have to bite back a groan so that I don’t make a fool out of myself.
“Good morning,” Raphael speaks as he addresses Paula. His voice is rough with sleep as if he didn’t get any. The sound goes straight to my dick and I immediately think of a random fact to keep myself from sporting a semi in the café.
Octopuses have three hearts.
Unfortunately, that turns my mind to tentacles. And then dicks. And then Raphael’s dick, which could be classified as a monster.
Fuck, not helping. Um. Owls don’t have eyeballs. They have eye tubes.
That doesn’t help either as I start thinking about holes, particularly mine, and what I’d like Raphael to do while he’s in that suit. “Shit.” I slap my hands across my mouth as I glance up at the counter to see Paula and Raphael staring at me. Paula looks annoyed but Raphael seems amused at my outburst as he gestures to the table by the window. No one’s in here yet but the special treatment is going to make Paula spread rumors.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Part of it anyway—the fact that I don’t want to be caught with Raphael in public. If we’re ever going to make this a thing, people are going to talk. I just need to ignore them. I look around for Heather, wanting approval but realizing that I don’t need it. We’re allowed to take breaks, especially when our jobs are completed. This isn’t boot camp.
Paula jabs me in the shoulder as I pass her. “What’s going on? Why does he want to talk to you?”
“How should I know? I just got here. I’ll make his coffee, see what he wants, and I’ll be right back,” I mumble as I start pressing buttons on the espresso machine to start up Raphael’s perfect cup. I usually top it with a bit of cinnamon but I’m hoping he’ll like the twist I place in it today. Maybe it’ll make the conversation easier. Six minutes later, I slide Raphael a cup as he beckons me to take a seat.
He takes a long sip of his espresso, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “Chocolate? I think I like the upgrade, little one.” Silence follows his statement and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I’m not sure what he wants from me or if this is the end of our relationship. I know I haven’t been open and honest with him but I’m trying. Mostly.
Raphael observes me as I twitch and fiddle, my anxiety heightening until I can’t help it. “Did you know that butterflies can taste with their feet?” My absolute need to fill voids with random facts is going to be the death of me one day. He chuckles at my outburst and I shove my hands between my thighs as I curl in on myself.
“I did not know that, little one. I’ll make sure to remember it.”
I can’t handle this awkward meeting anymore. “Sir?”
His eyes darken immediately as he sets down the coffee cup and leans forward, his folded hands perched on the surface. “What have I told you about calling me that?” I suck in my bottom lip and his hands flinch before settling on the surface again. “Not that either.”
