Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Noelle
It’s six in the morning, and the coffee shop is already buzzing with activity. Nothing like early risers, commuters, and the unmistakable scent of freshly ground espresso to start the day. This is my first shift, and I’m determined to charm the caffeine-deprived masses, one cup at a time.
“Morning. What can I get started for you?” I chirp, flashing my biggest, brightest smile at a woman who looks like she rolled straight out of bed and into the shop. She’s clutching her phone like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
“Uh . . .” Her eyes narrow at the menu, like it’s an ancient script she’s trying to decode. “Give me a large caramel macchiato. Non-fat milk, sugar-free, extra shot, extra caramel.”
I nod, punching all that into the system. “Name?”
“Sally,” she mutters, barely glancing up.
“Coming right up,” I say, trying not to let her lack of enthusiasm chip away at mine.
After the sticker prints. I add it to the cup, and spin toward the espresso machine, lining up the cup for John, the barista. There’s something comforting in the process, the way coffee wakes people up, pulls them out of their sleepy fog, and gets them through another day.
A few minutes later, her cup’s ready. “One caramel macchiato, extra everything.” I slide it across the counter with a cheerful smile. “Have a great day.”
She gives me a look, one of those ‘you’re way too happy for six a.m.’ kind of looks. Though, she only mutters a half-hearted, “Thanks,” and marches toward the door.
I grin to myself as she leaves. She might not appreciate my early morning energy, but she’ll thank me once the caffeine kicks in.
Next in line is an older man in a crisp suit, looking like he’s headed to a very important meeting. “Black coffee, large.”
“Straight to the point. I like it,” I say, grinning as I ring him up. “Hope you have a great day.”
His eyes crinkle just slightly. “I’ll do my best,” he says with a small smile.
The morning rush continues, and I find my rhythm, juggling orders, chatting with regulars, and pouring enough coffee to keep half the city awake. Most of them are friendly enough. I’m in my element, offering warm smiles, quick laughs, and perfectly frothed caffeinated drinks.
A teenage girl in an oversized hoodie approaches next, earbuds in and half-asleep. “Just a vanilla latte,” she mutters, barely looking up.
I move quickly, turning back to her with the steaming drink. “One vanilla latte, extra love on the side.”
She gives me a tiny, sleepy grin as she grabs her cup. “Thanks,” she mumbles, her mood slightly lifted as she shuffles away.
It’s all going smoothly, and I’m feeling pretty confident until I look up and see him . Jacob McCallister. He’s standing there, arms crossed, a scowl firmly in place, like he’s pissed at the mere existence of sunshine and caffeine. Of course he’s here.
Great. Just what I needed to spice up my first shift.
“Morning, neighbor.” I singsong, knowing full well it’ll grate on his nerves. I even beam at him, radiating the kind of cheer that would send any normal person into a rage spiral, but Jacob’s not normal. He’s worse. “How’s your day going so far?”
His jaw tightens, and he looks at me like he’s contemplating a murder—specifically mine. “It should be illegal to be this happy on a Monday morning.”
I bite back a laugh. He’s so predictable. Part of me wants to ask if he’s planning to report me to the Happiness Police or something equally ridiculous, but instead, I stick to my script. “What can I get started for you today?” I offer, keeping my voice chipper, just to piss him off a little more.
“Large black coffee,” he grumbles, like talking to me is some kind of punishment, but life’s cruel and he has to deal with me and my caffeine kingdom.
“No cream? No sugar? Maybe we could sprinkle some joy?” I tease, grabbing the carafe and I won’t lie, I’m tempted into grabbing the decaf one, but that’d be cruel to everyone around him.
His eyes narrow into slits, the kind of look that makes me wonder if he’s plotting some silent revenge where he replaces all my music with something equally grumpy, like the sound of dial-up internet.
“Just coffee,” he growls, making the word sound like it’s been personally offensive to him for years.
I stifle a grin, pouring the coffee. “I’m surprised. You seem like the kind of guy who’d order something . . . complicated.” I cock an eyebrow, like I’m trying to crack the mystery of the World’s Grumpiest Man. “You know, maybe something with soy foam, a splash of almond milk, extra-hot with a drizzle of superiority on top.”
“Just. Coffee,” he repeats, voice flat, the deep gravel of it somehow managing to scrape at my nerves. His eyes darken like the depths of hell, and I swear, if a smile so much as twitches on his lips, the earth will crack open.
I hand him the cup with a little flourish, “One large, joyless black coffee—just the way you like it.”
He takes it, our fingers brushing for a split second, and something flickers in his expression, but then he’s back to his usual grumpy self, face hard as stone. He takes a long, deliberate sip like he’s testing if I’ve poisoned it. God, it’d be easier if he wasn’t so unfairly hot.
“It’s too early for this,” he mutters, stepping aside to let the next customer in line have their turn. His scowl, however, lingers in the air like a storm cloud.
I lean against the counter, chin resting in my hand, unable to resist poking the bear one last time. “Oh, come on. You don’t want to start your day with a little sunshine? Maybe a smile?”
He gives me a look that could curdle milk, but I catch it—a tiny, barely-there twitch at the corner of his mouth. He takes another sip, grumbling as he makes his way to the door. “No.”
I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re too cheerful for six in the damn morning,” he throws over his shoulder before disappearing out the door. But if I’m not mistaken, there’s the faintest ghost of a smirk on his face.
“Cheerful is my specialty,” I call after him with a wink. “Come back soon for more.”
He responds with a low grunt, barely looking back as he heads for the door. But just before he steps outside, I catch it—a flicker of something at the corner of his mouth. A smirk? For a second, I almost don’t believe it, but there it is. Well, that’s something. I can’t help but feel a small swell of satisfaction. Grumpy McCallister, nearly smiling? Not bad for a Monday morning.
By the time eight rolls around, the café is quiet, the morning rush over, and I’m more than ready to head home. I untie my apron, stretch out my stiff neck, and exhale. Time to change gears.
I have just enough time to run home, swap my coffee-stained clothes for something slightly more professional, and then head to my real job at Safe Horizons. It’s my first official day, and the nervous energy bubbles up again as I grab my things. The coffee shop shift was easy, almost routine by now, but this? This feels different. Bigger.
As I step out into the cool morning air, a shiver runs through me—partly from the crisp breeze, partly from the anxiety knotting in my stomach. You’ll be fine. I tell myself, taking a deep breath. It’s just a new job. But this one matters. It’s not just about handing out lattes with a smile. It’s about doing something that actually counts for the future of many teenagers, and I don’t want to screw it up.
I push the thoughts aside and pick up the pace, heading for home. One quick change and a fresh start. You’ve got this, Noelle.