Chapter 1
Ellie
Fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck.
When Greg scans his app at the register, dread immediately sets in. I thought this day couldn’t get any worse, but apparently it can.
Being so focused on running bar, I didn’t realize he was in the store—let alone at the front of the line. It doesn’t help that my mind shuts off when I’m making drinks, so all I hear is the sounds from the machine. The clicking of the buttons to pull espresso shots and the sputtering of the steam wands are like music to my ears on busy mornings.
A normal Friday is chaotic, but it’s tolerable. Those of us working the morning shift find our rhythm, and it goes smoothly from there. However, today has been terrible.
My first mistake was making the ever regrettable decision to sleep in for an extra ten minutes. It might not seem that bad, but when I only ever give myself twenty minutes to get ready, it causes me to rush. And when I rush, everything goes to shit.
The second mistake was not closing my water bottle all the way, so when I turned into the parking lot, it flew out of its spot and spilled all over the passenger seat of my car. Everything, including myself, is damp and stupid, and to make mattersworse, I’m trapped behind the bar with no escape as Greg walks towards me. On top of that, all of my matching socks managed to disappear, so now I’m stuck here being hyper aware that one of them is slightly tighter than the other.
Nick, my coworker and best friend, places Greg’s cup behind a few others waiting in the queue, and he offers me a pitiful look like he knows exactly what is about to happen.
I grab the next cup in line and pray that it’s quick. The sooner I can get these drinks out, the sooner I can get Greg out of the store.
The scribbled sharpie marks indicate a medium iced coffee with half and half and three pumps of vanilla.Nice.Turning around, I scoop ice into the cup and pour the iced coffee from the carafe, but as I move back in front of the machines, Greg is already leaning over the double layer of syrup bottles to get my attention.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I try not to cringe at the unwelcome pet name, offering him a polite smile and greeting while still focusing on the drink in my hands.
I had never seen Greg before he started coming in sometime last week, and at first, he seemed like a decent guy. All he would do was walk over to the bar, chat for a brief minute, then leave with his large, extra-extra hot, soy latte. It was slightly odd how particular he was about getting the extra-extra hot part right, but to each their own, I guess.
However, the decency died quickly when he started using pet names and requesting to take me out to dinner. No matter how many times I say no, he just doesn’t seem to get it.
“Greg, we’ve gone over this. My name is Ellie. It’s quite literally pinned to my apron.” When his gaze drops to my chest, I immediately regret saying it. His eyes linger for a beat too long before looking back up to my face.
I put a lid on the iced coffee and read out the name, “Denise. Iced coffee.”
She comes up, grabs her drink, and gives me a look of condolences. It’s a shame that every woman knows exactly what I’m going through.
Picking up the next cup, I continue the process and internally repeat my mantra.
Just a few more drinks then I can get him out of here.
“When are you going to let me take you out? A pretty girl like you deserves to be spoiled.” He ends the line with a wink, and I do everything in my power to not physically recoil at the gesture.
I’ve already given him plenty of excuses, but Greg doesn’t understand the concept of the word no. While the milk is frothing, I turn to face him, so there is no confusion about who I am talking to. “No thank you. I’m really busy with school work.”
That isn’t a complete lie. Although, I’m not going to tell him that I’m only taking one class this summer.
The plan is to save up as much as possible over the next three months and hopefully be done within the next school year. I’ve been working on my master’s degree for over a year and a half now, and I’m doing my best to get it done as quickly as possible. Nowadays, it is hard not to be drowning with loans, but full time work and full time class get overwhelming, whichis why I decided to cut my workload down over the summer semester.
“Well, you wouldn’t have to go to school if you were with me, sweetheart. I’d take care of you.” His grin is repulsive, but I assume he is attempting to be flirtatious. “Anyways, you’ve got the looks; you don’t need all that education.”
If Greg wasn’t already a walking red flag, that really would've sealed the deal. No wonder his only hope in getting someone to give him the time of day is harassing a service industry worker who literally cannot leave the spot they’re standing in.
I do my best to mask my feelings behind my customer service persona. The last thing I need is a write-up for telling a customer to go fuck himself.
Two more drinks make their way down the line—a large caramel macchiato and a medium iced almond milk mocha, no whip. If I try to look like I’m focusing hard on these drinks, maybe Greg will get bored and leave me alone.
But, of course, he doesn’t.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let me take you out. Show you areallygood time.” The way he says it makes my skin crawl.
This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about reporting someone to management. The issue is that, despite being a mega creep, he technically hasn’t said anything that would allow us to ban him from the store. As much as I believe this company has my back, I would be an idiot to believe that they would support me without some repercussion falling back on me. It’s like when the police refuse to press charges when a woman is being stalked.They say the men aren’t dangerous until they do something, and then, BAM, the woman gets murdered.
