Chapter 12 Roni
Roni
The bruises on my arms from where Brad grabbed me have finally healed. They went through the usual stages, red, blue, yellow, before fading away over a week or so, and then I was afraid others would still be able to see them. So instead, I sweat through long sleeves to avoid awkward questions.
I’m still on my work grind, opening every day. Mercy finally stopped showing up, which is probably for the best. She could have been fired any time. As it was, she only came when she wanted to. She was never on time. Though, the customers loved looking at her.
Sometimes I’m here all day. I’ve talked to management about hiring people to come in for additional shifts.
Though calling it ‘management’ is a joke.
It’s one woman—Debbie—and she’s less useful than a screen door on a submarine.
She and her garbage pile in human skin of a husband own little businesses all over the state, which means none of them get the attention they need.
I could get murdered in this hut and it’d take them months to realize the money stopped coming in.
Debbie seems to think everything is going great and doesn’t have much of an incentive to get me the relief I need. I suppose if I randomly stop showing up too, or if I get sick or run away, they’ll feel differently. But for now, it’s me.
Chloe: How you holdin’ up sweetcheeks?
Chloe keeps me company some days, though it’s still the wee hours for her, so I feel bad if she starts texting me much before 9 a.m..
Roni: You know me.
Chloe: Overthinking everything you’ve ever done wrong. Got it.
Chloe: I have an idea though.
Roni: Yeah? What?
Chloe: Maybe don’t.
Chloe: Maybe give your mystery hero your number today.
Roni: How’d you know I’m waiting for him to show?
Chloe: Oh, easy.
Chloe: You haven’t texted me what he’s wearing today.
Chloe: Or what he smells like.
Chloe: Or what he ordered.
Chloe: Or… you see what I mean?
I don’t know whether to be offended or excited.
I don’t get feelings. For anyone. Well, I didn’t.
There was even a while I thought I might be asexual.
But any chance of that has evaporated since Phoenix started showing up.
Now the only thing I can do is feel. Though I don’t know why Chloe is casting it in this light.
Roni: You make me sound obsessed.
Chloe: Exactly, love. So stop being a scaredy cat.
Chloe: He clearly likes you too.
Roni: You don’t know that. You’ve never met him.
Chloe: There’s exactly zero chance your coffee is worth walking up to drive-thru window for at this hour.
The cars form a continuous line, inching up to both drive-thru windows throughout the day.
It’s a routine motorcade, devoid of any remarkable occurrences or noteworthy moments.
Of course, until Phoenix makes his appearance, as he habitually does.
Parking his sleek SUV and standing in my drive-thru line.
Roni: OMG he’s here!
Chloe: GIVE. HIM. YOUR. NUMBER.
Today, he's dressed more casually than usual, in just a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Still, even in such a laid-back outfit, he stands out. His jeans are tailored, his shirt fits perfectly, and every detail screams, despite the simplicity, the quality comes with a price tag.
Every time I see him, vivid memories of that night and the countless nights before flood my mind.
Nights when his presence was an unshakable painting in my thoughts.
I gaze at him and feel like a coward, terrified to take a daring leap into the unknown.
It's an incessant torment, gnawing away at my sanity.
He remains unmoved, not making any advances, and my patience is wearing thin.
Yet, fear shackles me, preventing me from making the first move.
Perhaps this pattern will continue, making him coffee, sidestepping the charged tension between us indefinitely.
But it's not what I want. Especially not now, when every fiber of my being yearns for more.
“Hey there, Little Temptress,” he greets me with the pet name I’ve become addicted to.
His voice is smooth and inviting, paired with his irresistibly sexy smile which never fails to light up his face every time he approaches.
His eyes glint with a playful warmth, and there's a confident swagger in his step making the moment feel electric.
“Oh hey, how are you?” I ask in response like some stupid child, nervously tucking my hair behind my ear.
By this point, you would expect us to be able to manage a simple initial acknowledgment and some casual coffee talk, but alas, that’s not the case.
It feels like we've been transported back to the awkwardness of high school, or perhaps even the cringe-worthy days of middle school, where making eye contact is a Herculean task.
The only things missing are the metal braces and the dreaded acne which once plagued my adolescent face.
Because Lord knows this stupidly flawless man has probably never had a pimple in his life.
“Still no Mercy, huh?” he observes.
All I can do is offer a passive shrug of my shoulders and confirm his suspicions.
“It’s been two weeks, and she still hasn’t come in,” I say, my voice tinged with a hint of resignation.
I don't elaborate, but I suspect she's finished with this place. I can't really blame her for moving on. I enjoyed having her around. Her presence added a certain warmth, but she also made it frustratingly impossible to depend on her.
“Well,” he starts with a playful shimmer in his eyes, “I'm glad you're still here. Who would serve me my coffee if you both disappeared?” He snickers softly, his lips curling into a teasing smirk as he speaks.
And I can feel it. I can feel the chills in my body.
I can feel the craving in my core. The pulsing in my panties confirm his milk isn’t the only thing frothing, and I can’t help but keep looking at him, throwing him glances just to see him—staring at me.
Understandably, we’re at this point, because of course we are.
He looks at me. I look at him. He sees me looking at him.
I see him looking at me. This is so stupid.
His eyes have grown hungry, but in the best way.
Hungry like he wants to consume me. And I need to start being honest. I want to let him. Mercy was right.
“This is probably a stupid question.” I try to divert the conversation. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to go on working. “Is your name really Phoenix?”
He gives me a half-smile, running his hand through his already disheveled hair. “Actually, it's my last name. Jeff Phoenix, technically.”
“Oh.” I listen closely while trying to also make drinks for the line of customers waiting. “So everyone calls you by your last name?”
“I left Jeff behind a long time ago.” Something shadows his expression before he recovers and changes the subject. “But enough about that.” His face lights up and he catches me off guard when he presses me. “Tell me, Little Temptress. What do you do for fun?”
He's a clever shit.
“Oh, hey now, mister,” I tease him. “Sounds like you’ve got a story to tell.”
“Always do.” He smirks, still not telling me more. “Seriously though, tell me—”
“What do I do for fun?” I cut him off just to mess with him, and the smile on his face is more than worth it. “Oh, not much. I usually just go home. Maybe do a little reading. I’m here so often I don’t really get much chance to go out and experience nightlife.”
“What a shame,” he says with a deep, sultry tone.
“You should be celebrating. You should be having fun. You should be, I don’t know, doing what makes you happy.
Unless, of course, sitting at home reading makes you happy.
” He throws his hands in the air, and I can tell he’s concerned he’s overstepped.
“I do like reading, but it’s not the only thing. I like going out for drinks. I like socializing. I like dancing. But, the last opportunity I had didn’t go well, as you know. And I don’t exactly have a long line of people waiting to try again.”
“That’s crazy to me. I still don’t understand.
I’m not… It’s not… That math ain’t mathing anytime soon.
” He’s rambling, and it’s absolutely adorable.
“And while you might not have a long line of men itching to take you out, I’m here.
Yeah, there’s a coffee involved, but I don’t know.
How would you feel about going out with me? ”
I’ve been waiting for it. The ask. For me to do something, anything really, with him, and still, I’m not ready for it.
“Ah, fuck!” I cry out as I spill his coffee across my hands.
“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so—I’m sorry. Shit,” he stammers.
“It’s fine. I promise,” I respond, aimlessly waving my burned hand through the air. “It’s my fault, not yours. I’m a klutz. World class, in fact.”
“No, really. I shouldn’t have. I always do this.”
“Do what?” I snap, and hear the annoyance in my words.
“I always say the wrong thing at the wrong time,” he finishes, unfazed by my outburst. “Please, let me do something to help.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” I wave him off before remaking his coffee. “Well, what did you have in mind, anyway?” I ask, not really looking at him, trying to avoid any additional burns.
“I don’t know what sounds good. You said you enjoy going out for drinks. You like socializing. Is that it? Is that Veronica’s top-tier date? The thing that matters the most? Or do you have this perfect night out in mind?”
“Oh my,” I reply coyly, a playful smile drawing at my lips.
“I mean, I can always eat. But I’m not sure.
If the weather’s right, I really love walking beneath the stars.
You know, maybe along the beach where the waves whisper to us along the shore?
Or through the park, where the trees stand silent under the moon’s soft glow.
I don’t need anything elaborate. Nothing requiring a fortune.
I just enjoy,” I pause, suddenly aware I’m the one rambling now, “being out in the open. Feeling the freedom of the night air. And having the chance to spend quality time with someone special.”
“Okay. Noted,” he replies with a nod, his eyes twinkling with understanding.
“You really are a reader, aren’t you?” he jokes.
“Perhaps we’ll make it happen sometime.” He winks at me, and another flutter stirs in my panties, a spark threatening to ignite my composure.
This man might just be the end of me. Either by exposing my desperate longing or by simply melting me into the earth with his charm.
I jot my phone number on the lid of his cup, the pen gliding smoothly over the surface, and as I hand it to him, I lean in, offering him my most seductive tone. “Thanks again. For everything.” Then I turn to the other window, ready to attend to the next customer.
It pains me to dismiss him without watching him walk away and savoring the moment he realizes what I’ve done. But I have a feeling this isn’t the last time our paths will cross, and we’ll have another chance to explore this conversation.