I’d rather have her like this than not at all, but I find it hard to ignore the other feelings. Let’s hope I don’t fuck this up.
Chapter 28
Ellie
Thelinestartstoform as we begin the morning rush, and I am not ready.
Waking up this morning was painful. Not literally, but figuratively. I was not ready to get back to reality, but it was coming whether I liked it or not. Other than the 'Rebecca situation', this weekend was a dream, and I'm disappointed that it’s over.
When I got home, I immediately started getting ahead of my homework for the week. All of the reading I did on Saturday was helpful for the weekend discussion board, but I forgot about the socratic seminar tomorrow.
Time is moving way too fast as we approach the last two weeks of the class, and I need to keep myself sharp.
As I steam nonfat milk to go into a mocha, I’m also thinking about how I can discuss how James Joyce’s use of literary elements inDublinershelped impact the theme. It can’t be too contrived, but I also can’t just wing it. There needs to be a balance, and I am struggling to find it.
Stirring the espresso into the chocolate, I try to remember a reference to an article that I read five weeks ago. As I pour the steamed milk, I don’t even notice that I miss the cup until there is a giant mess in front of me.
Fuck! Get it together, Ellie.
I need to get out of my head and focus on the task at hand. Running into the backroom, I chug what is left of my hazelnut cold brew and try to take deep breaths.
It is okay to not think about school right now. You have time tonight to prep. Everything is going to be okay.
When I go back out to the floor, my mojo is back, making drinks almost as quickly as Nick is ringing them in; we're a perfectly well-oiled machine. Since it’s summer, most of the drinks are iced, which makes running bar easier. Not having to steam milk is one less step, and I am appreciative of the warm weather for once.
Knocking out drink after drink, I consider timing myself because I’m so impressed with the focus I’ve regained since I stopped thinking about my class. There is a small crowd in the lobby, but I am doing good at not allowing it to grow any bigger than five people waiting at a time. I’m so focused that I don’t even notice that Patrick has been leaning on the counter in front of me for who knows how long.
“Oh my god!” When I look up and see him, I practically jump out of my skin. “You scared me!"
There is concern in his eyes as I give him a half smile. He leans in over the counter to whisper, “Hey, are you doing okay? You look really tired, El.”
I don’t have the capacity to be cheery right now. At this point, Patrick should know me well enough that I shouldn’t have to keep up my customer service persona, so I let the mask fall and roll my eyes. “You know, that isn't what a woman likesto hear. You want to tell me that the bags under my eyes are a little dark?”
There was no reason to snap at him, but I couldn’t stop myself.
He frowns, and I instantly feel bad about my attitude. We normally joke, but my reaction wasn't from a nice place. He leans back a few inches, giving me space, and his voice is apologetic. “El, of course I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just concerned about you.”
Patrick deserves my full attention, but I can’t stop working through these drinks.
As I drizzle chocolate all over the inside of a cup, I find an apology. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’m just really stressed about a socratic seminar tomorrow. I totally forgot about it, which would normally be fine, but for some reason, I’m not feeling so good about it. I stayed up pretty late trying to review some past readings, and now I am exhausted.”
I strain to pump three pumps of caramel into a small, hot cup.
Fuck this stupid-ass thick sauce!
His voice cut through my frustrations.
“Aw, come on, El. You’re the smartest, smarty pants I know.” Looking up, I see he is smiling at me, and I hate that it’s making me feel a little better. “When you get home, take a tiny nap, and then do some prepping. You might doubt yourself, but I don’t.”
God, I want to kiss him so bad right now, but there is a double layer of syrups between us. Not to mention, I am working right now, and it would be highly inappropriate. Therewould definitely be a complaint to my manager if I stopped making drinks at 7:20 in the morning to make out with Patrick, and my excuse of him being 'nice to me' and 'looking extra handsome this morning' will not stand in an argument with the owner.
He continues to watch me as I work in silence, and I love having his eyes on me. It makes me sad when I get to his drink, knowing that it means he will have to leave soon. There is a deep desire to talk to him again, but I don’t really know what to say.
Trying anyway, I say, “Um, I haven’t talked to my parents yet about dinner, but I was thinking Friday night? What do you think?”
I pump the vanilla into his cup and spin around to scoop the ice in, bending over the bucket since we are getting low on ice.
“Friday works for me, and—” A slight fire burns in his eyes as he leans in close again and speaks low so only I can hear. “Your ass looks amazing in those pants.”
