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Swallowing down all ofthat,I force myself to don a mask of indifference and my brain finally begins to form sentences. Lots and lots of sentences. But I say none of them.
Smiling, I nod. "Oh, yeah, I'm great. You just caught me by surprise, is all. It's been a while. What can I get for you?"
See, that was good.
Polite and professional, because customers are staring, and I own this place.
Sweet, because I want him to regret the day he ever walked away from me.
Nonchalant because I want him to feel as unimportant as he made me feel. As they all did. So, what if I'm also being a little petty? I think I deserve to be after everything.
Eli stares at me, taking in my expression, the shift in my demeanor, my words. I see a multitude of emotions flit over his face rapidly, too rapidly for me to catch any of them before he too dons a mask of indifference. He smiles, his usual cocky swagger firmly back in place.
"Oh, you can get me a lot of things, I'm sure," he winks. Ignoring the retort that wants to fly from my lips, I keep my professional face steady and treat him like any other customer who's unabashedly hitting on me.
"Unfortunately, my number or any other services of a personal nature are not on the menu today,sir, but we do have a lovely caramel cappuccino that fits perfectly in a to-go cup." Smiling, I gesture towards my adorable pink cups and wait for his reply.
His arrogant smile wavers slightly as irritation fills him. Why? I have no idea. Did he think that he would just show up, at my place of business, months later and act as though nothing happened? Like we're what? Friends? Fuck buddies? Newsflash. We aren't and he can't. As much as I regret the way things turned out and I have wished we had an opportunity to explore things, it's a little too late. I know my worth and it’s a hell of a lot more than this.
Lies. All lies. I would gladly suck his cock if he—
"Can we talk?" he grits out.
Smiling, I nod, squeezing my thighs together discretely. I have never been more thankful for my expensive as fuck counter than I am right now. "Sure. Would you like that cappuccino or maybe an iced tea? We also have smoothies if you’re not a coffee drinker, though, if you’re not into coffee then this would be an odd place for you to come, don't you think?" I ramble.
His irritation flares with renewed vigor. "What are you doing, Violet?" Eli hisses as his jaw ticks and I find sweet, sweet satisfaction in that small movement.
"You wanted to talk, we're talking, but I do have to say, there are quite a few customers behind you waiting to order so if you don't like any of the items on our available menu, please step aside for those who know what they want." He gulps, not missing the double meaning of my statement.
Eli reluctantly drags his eyes from me, glances up at the menu board, and quickly scans it, crossing his arms as he does. My eyes track the movement without my permission, watching as his muscles bunch beneath the tight confines of his shirt. His corded forearms flex, the veins protruding in a way that has my nipples hardening which pisses me off even more. I snap my head to the side, forcing myself to pay attention to anything, anyone, but him.
"Can I please get a large size of every one of your drinks?" he asks coolly as if that wasn't a ridiculous request. Jessica gasps, Uri groans and I fight the urge to let my mouth drop open in shock. What is he playing at? Ignoring all of the questions flitting through my brain, I smile and nod. If he wants to waste a ton of money, who am I to tell him no?
It takes me over ten minutes to input his entire order into the computer system and I have to continually apologize to the customers in line behind him. Luckily, things have died down and most of them are understanding, with me at least. Two of them keep shooting glares in Eli's direction, which brings me a silent wave of joy.
His bill comes to over $250 which momentarily makes me feel guilty. I'm afraid that he's going to have some sort of snide comment about our prices, or the drinks not being worth the cost, but he just smiles, whips out a black card, pays the tab, and drops a stack of hundreds in the tip jar. It’s an insanely massive tip. I want to throw the money back at him, tell him that I don't need any charity. But then I see the way Jess and Uri look at that chunk of change with hearts in their eyes and again, I swallow back my comments.
Before he steps away, he looks to the customers that dutifully and patiently waited in line behind him and says, "Your orders are on me. Get whatever you like." Then, he turns to me and smiles as he hands back his credit card. "Please make their orders first. I'm fine waiting however long it takes."
Before I can respond, he steps away, heading toward the front of the shop where he folds his tall, muscular frame into my swinging egg chair like he didn't just blow my mind. I try, I really try not to smile, but when he has to bend and shift his body like an overgrown pretzel, to get into the chair, I can't hold it back. He may be annoying, and he may have hurt me butfuck,he's adorable.
Spinning on my heel, I thank the stars that it's almost time to close the shop, giving me an excellent reason to kick him out. The three of us set about working on the rest of the customer's orders before starting the long, tedious job of making one of each of our drinks for Eli. It's honestly ridiculous and I don't understand it one bit, but whatever. I lose myself in the task, focusing on only what's right in front of me and not allowing my brain to spiral the way it wants to.
I will not overthink this, I will not overthink this.
I repeat the mantra in my head again and again. It works. Until all of the sudden, we're done and there are no more drinks to be made. No more distractions, no more reasons to have my back to him, ignoring his overwhelming presence. Taking a few slow breaths to calm my confused heart, I turn and step up to the bar where all 38 of his drinks are waiting, nestled into 10 cardboard to-go trays.
"Eli," I call out, as if he's not the only customer waiting for an order. His head snaps up from where he was doing something on his phone. His wide eyes meet mine and this time, I do grin. I let him see some of what I've been holding in.
I know. I heard you that morning. I know who you are.
He slides his phone into his pocket and rises slowly, unfolding himself from the egg chair once again, except this time, the look on his face keeps the action from being funny. He blinks and blinks again. He swallows deeply. His hand twitches. His eyes flit back and forth.
Though he tries to hide it, every single movement shows how he's feeling. He's nervous. Terrified even. He's putting it all together. Trying to think back to that morning, to what was said in their rush to escape. They thought I was asleep. They thought I didn't hear anything, was none the wiser to what was going on.
In all honesty, I don't actuallyknowanything. Besides small snippets of some sort of emergency, the only intel I gleamed was their real names but the fact that he doesn't know that might work for me. The fact that I see worry and guilt lining his features may actually give me a leg up in this. Whateverthisis.
Eli shakes off his nerves and glides forward, his cocky demeanor muted but still present. As he strides in my direction, I allow myself a moment to really take him in. He's dressed casually. More put together than he was last night but nothing like the suit he wore in the club months ago. This outfit is somewhere in between, and I would guess that it's probably the style he gravitates toward for casual wear. It's then that I realize this is the first time I'm seeing Eli in real life. On the street, in public. Casual and so utterlynormal.
