Chapter twenty-seven
Bexley
“Amazing. Thank you, Bexley. And now, my last question—Why should we hire you?”
Don’t say because you want money. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
Social media has officially ruined me because as I smile unnaturally, to the point of creepily, at the only-slightly older woman, my brain is stuck in malfunction mode, replaying Tiktok skits. You know… those videos where people are way too brutally honest in interviews?
We all know we only work to be able to afford things like toilet paper and the good sliced cheese but no one wants to hear that. This is where I’m supposed to grin maniacally and say this is my dream job, that I’d sell my organs on the black market for. Who needs two kidneys, right?
Yet… lying doesn’t come easily. It should in all honesty, but apparently any skills I possess when it comes to the art of fibbing is only reserved for instances where I’m avoiding conversations about my emotions or confrontations with glorified assholes.
“I—,” I hesitate, full panic setting in. Fuck. I should have prepared better. I was just too distracted by the fact I even got an interview in the first place that I celebrated prematurely.
You’re an idiot, Bexley. Celebrations are for job offers. Not job interviews.
I’m horribly aware I’m still smiling like a dickhead in complete silence while Hazel waits patiently for my brain to come back into the building.
Maybe she’s used to this. Though, if I’m normal by interview standards, I dread picturing what she has to deal with.
But I guess if you’re getting paid to handle mental breakdowns during interviews, at least you’re still getting money.
Finally, I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I really love coffee. No, like really. If I had to choose between giving up air or the sweet bean of life, I’m holding my breath forever.”
Well… At least I’m hilarious. Surely that will win me some brownie points and help me stand out.
Hazel blinks a few times before bursting out laughing. She scribbles a note on the paperwork in front of her, still smiling. “I actually can’t drink it anymore. The smell and demanding customers have permanently ruined me.”
“In that case, I formally rescind my interest in the role,” I joke. “I’m kidding by the way. Please hire me.”
I’m not sure if I’m funny or pathetic at this point. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, Hazel seems to be vibing with me so I take that as a positive sign.
“The hours vary but you wrote in your application that you’ll be graduating soon,” she comments. “Mornings are pure chaos. If you’re open to hours before school, that would be helpful. Otherwise weekend shifts can be a real pain to fill.”
I nod eagerly. “I’ll do both. Honestly, I’m not fussy. Anything you can give me outside of academy hours.”
Hazel rests the pen on the table, a warm smile beaming back at me. “I think you’ll fit in well here. Can you start on Saturday?”
“Yes… yeah!” I answer. “I have the job?”
She laughs. “Yeah. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though. But in the meantime while you still enjoy caffeine, you get one free drink per shift and a ten-percent staff discount.”
“I’ll take that challenge,” I grin. “Seriously, thank you!”
Hazel stands, gesturing for me to follow. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of the other team members and grab you a uniform. Welcome aboard.”
“You got a job?”
Ry’s eyes widen at my news, momentarily forgetting about the study notes laid out in front of us. We’re sprawled out on my living room floor, drowning in information about gym.
Yes—gym class.
I was horrified to discover that not only is Coach Carter intending on testing our physical abilities, which I’m already freaking out about, but also our knowledge.
How the hell am I supposed to know these things? I spend all of my time in gym class trying not to die. And now I’m meant to know cardiovascular stats and the rules of football?!
I’m ashamed to admit I fully spiraled at the news, much to the amusement of the man in front of me. But he did promise to share his notes and tell me everything he knows. Whether or not I actually remember is a whole other issue.
Willowbrook is just cruel. We’re disadvantaged by the difference in syllabuses and now they are trying to kill us. Oh, well… At least it’s a normal Tuesday.
“You inspired me, actually,” I admit sheepishly.
Rylan tilts his head, confused. “How? Is it because my father cut off me from my trust fund? If so—you’re welcome.”
I snort. “Sadly, no. It’s when you joked about having three dicks and an endless supply of caffeine. I started applying at coffee shops because I figured they could just pay me in beverages if needed. I’m not picky.”
He folds his arms, smirking. “I mean, it’s a fair point with the sleep deprivation. You do need food occasionally, though.”
“Do I? Food is overrated.”
“So, I don’t need to order the takeout then?”
I lean back on flat palms, staring at him in amusement. “Not now that you’ve reminded me about your pretty boy money problems. I’d feel bad. Did you need me to get you a job too?” I tease.
Rylan grins, shaking his head. “The two of us working together? We wouldn’t last a day.”
“In all seriousness—are you okay though?”
The smile doesn’t fade from his face. “I’m great. My father seriously underestimates my willingness to piss him off. Besides, I withdrew a comfortable amount the moment I suspected he was going to pull a stunt like that.”
“In that case, dinner is still on you then, rich boy.”
He reaches for his phone. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Not that you were getting a choice. I was planning on ordering whether you liked it or not.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Nodding, his fingers tap across the screen. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were awake at 3:00 a.m. You’re quite violent when you toss and turn. I was worried about getting an elbow in the throat at one stage.”
“Says the pillow princess,” I mumble. “You hogged the pillows and blankets last night. I’m glad it’s summer, otherwise I’d freeze to death.”
Without glancing up, a sly grin breaks across his face. “Fairly certain Tai is the pillow princess. I caught him wearing an eye mask once. He blamed Sophia, but his flawless skin gives him away.”
“Jealous?” I tease him, snorting. “What’s your skincare routine then? Because it clearly isn’t beauty sleep since you apparently stalk me at odd hours.”
“I like to bathe in the blood of my enemies and steal souls.”
“And here I thought you were stealing or buying organs on the black market for sacrificial rituals. I guess I’m safe then.”
Rylan pauses, glancing at me from over the top of his phone. “I’m quite partial to spleens. Also that’s how I wooed you. I collected some of your blood from the warehouse cage and did a love spell.”
“Fairly certain you fell for me first,” I point out.
“Oh, so you admit you did a spell on me too?”
“Nope. Just made a charity donation on your behalf out of the goodness of my heart. It was my selfless act that won you over. Or the booty shorts. Actually, yes—that was the moment you fell in love with me. Being in my pants has that effect. You’re welcome.”
He finishes tapping out our order, shaking his head. It is kind of cute that I don’t even need to tell him what I like anymore. He just knows and always orders the right thing.
It’s still a little baffling seeing this side of the guys.
Never in a million years would I picture them as romantics.
They keep surprising me though. Between the cute little gestures, and tag teaming date ideas, I’m a little smitten with the Willowbrook Kings.
Maybe I died in the fire and went to Hell.
But if that’s the case, this is a level of burning I’m cool with.
After dinner, we’re joined by Tai and Hunter, the three of us switching to a graphic design study sesh. Every waking minute is occupied by either school, study, or trying to solve the fire mystery.
Everything has been hectic since we found the door.
We keep trying to find mutual free time as a group to dig deeper into it, but somehow we keep getting caught up with other things and can’t seem to get our schedules to line up.
It also doesn’t help that every time I do try to bring up what we discovered, Ry deflects and changes the topic of conversation.
Ry is right in that coffee will help with my sleep deprivation because I have no idea how I’ll manage with adding a job into the mix. But I need to take what I can get. Finding work has been difficult and now that I’ve been offered something, I’d be stupid to refuse.
It’s only a few weeks anyway. Once final exams are over and we graduate, I’ll have more time to rest.
I just have to survive first.
“Bexley, this is Elliott. He’ll be working this shift and will help train you,” Hazel says, pointing to the man by the coffee machine.
His shaggy light brown hair just about falls into his eyes, almost hiding the amber orbs. He pivots his body toward us slightly, hands still working on levers and buttons.
“Hey!” Elliott greets enthusiastically. “Welcome to the madhouse. I’ve just got these four—no—five orders to smash out and I’ll be right with you.”
I smile politely. “No rush. It’s nice to meet you, Elliott.”
He grins, lips curling over his teeth. “It’s nothing but rush rush rush here, love. But that’s part of the fun, no?”
Hazel places a soft hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let him scare you. He’s buzzed on the beans. But you’re in good hands.”
“Bean buzz is good.”
Elliott lets out a booming laugh from the other end of the counter, arms moving so fast that they start to blur. “She says that now. Let’s see how she feels by close.”
“Like I said… you’ll be fine,” Hazel says warmly. “I’ll be in and out of the office if you need me. Jessa is also on cashier so give her a shout if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I nod, waiting patiently as Elliott turns into an octopus, slinging drinks along the counter.
There’s finally a small gap in customers, and without missing a beat, Elliott waves me over to the coffee station. I walk over nervously, eyes scanning the machine and surroundings.
This can’t be too difficult.
Famous last words.
“Our syrups are over there, creamers and cold foams by the machine here, and all the special little bits like toasted coconut flakes and sprinkles. If Jessa, or whoever is cashiering that day, is free, they will do the smoothies and shakes. We also have toasted sandwiches. They are already pre-made in the glass cabinet so when the order comes through, we just slap it on the toaster behind us.”
Okay, shit. Maybe a teeny-tiny bit difficult.
“I’m a latte girlie. Or Americano if I’m super tired. Do you have a cheat sheet or anything on the other types of coffees?”
Elliott grins wildly, suddenly whipping out a folder from under the counter. “Ta-da! The Bean Bible. Everything is categorized by type of drink, then in alphabetical order for your viewing pleasure.”
He hands it over just as the printer buzzes to life, spitting out a ticket.
“Alright. This is nice and easy to start with. Seven pumps of vanilla, three pumps of caramel, four white mocha, nonfat, extra ice.”
A plastic cup is shoved toward me and I fumble to grab it as my brain’s blue wheel of death swirls in circles. “What?”
Elliott taps the ticket. “You got this. Start with the syrups.”
“Right,” I mumble, glancing at the order. “I guess I’ll start with the seven pumps of vanilla.”