Romance and Regrets

Beep, beep, beep. My infuriatingly loud alarm clock sounded. My left hand emerged from somewhere beneath my mountain of fluffy, white comforter and shut off the ear-splittingly loud alarm. My eyelids slowly fluttered open letting in the blinding morning light.

I looked over at the clock. The illuminated red numbers blinked 7:45 back at me. What I wouldn’t give for at least three more hours of sleep. But it’s either more sleep or no paying job. And as much as I love sleep, I’d rather get a pay check at the end of the month.

I threw the covers keeping my body warm off of myself and grudgingly got out of bed. I shuffled slowly to the bathroom across the hallway from my bedroom. As soon as my feet touched the frosty tile floor a wave of shivers ran up my spine.

Swiftly I turned on the shower, making sure I turned the hot water up high enough. I peeled my Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and white v-neck off, as well as my underwear and stepped underneath the warm falling water.

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A little more than thirty minutes later I was ready for a long day at work.

You see, I work and co-own a coffee shop slash café in Tempe, Arizona with my best friend Noah. The locals in Tempe absolutely adore Paige’s, that’s the name of the coffee house. So me and my best friend slash loft mate, Noah are doing quite well for ourselves.

Our loft in which we both live is only about six minutes from Paige’s; giving us a short, easy commute to work.

When I had finally made it into the kitchen Noah was nowhere in sight. Typical. Noah gets up an hour earlier than I do because since he is the legitimate owner of Paige’s—meaning he pays more for the place than I do—he has to be there to open the place up. I have told him multiple times that there are people called managers that do that sort of things. But each and every time I tell him this he looks at me like I’ve grown a third eye on my forehead. Which, I guess, is how any boy would look at you if you’ve known and befriended since second grade.

After having a sugar-loaded cup of coffee, I grabbed my acoustic guitar—Paige’s is having a open-mic night tonight and I’m the opening act—my purse, and my cell phone I climbed into my Isuzu Trooper, and in less than five minutes I was at work.

As soon as I stepped inside of Paige’s the heavenly aroma of chocolate and coffee beans flooded my nostrils. The normal morning crowd occupied the black arrangement of bistro tables, enjoying this morning’s special: chocolate chip pancakes, bacon or sausage, and hash browns.

“Reporting for duty, Mr. Boss Man,” I announced, walking into the kitchen where Noah was mixing up another batch of pancakes.

Noah flipped his incredibly perfect brown hair out of his drop dead gorgeous face, “Good morning, Kindle. It’s nice to see you made it here in one piece.”

“Yes, it is. . .” his over-bearing happiness was unnerving. “Someone drank more than their fair share of their Happy Juice this morning.”

“Nope, not that,” he set the large metal bowl down on the counter, before fiddling with his new lip ring.

“Hayley Williams called you,” I guessed, mocking him by playing with my snake bites.

“I do have a girlfriend, Kin,” he informed me, pouring some batter onto the sizzling hot griddle.

I put on my black apron with the word Paige’s embroided on the front of it. “I know, Noah. And you named the coffee house after her. How romantic.” I narrowed my striking emerald eyes at him.

He narrowed his equally striking blue eyes at me, “Just go take care of table three. Paige is doing the register today.”

I pulled my deep red hair into a short, stubby ponytail and grumbled, “The things I do for you.”

“It’s because you love me!” he called after me as I made my way to the front of the café.

Paige, in all of her perfect womanly splendor, stood behind the cash register as a preppy college guy shamelessly flirted with her.

Which is understandable because Paige is the epitome of beauty. Much like her boyfriend she is unbelievably gorgeous. Her fresh-from-the-beach complexion, her shiny, professional looking hair, her model-thin figure, and her amazing gray eyes make her the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It also makes me insanely jealous. I am an insanely clumsy, pale and lanky girl with hair that constantly looks like it’s ablaze.

“Hey, pal,” I said to the flirting boy. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to be hitting on the owner’s girlfriend.”

Preppy’s eyes bulged. “Um, sorry, m-ma’am.”

“I am twenty-one years old! Do NOT call me ‘ma’am’,” I hissed grabbing my favorite purple pen off the counter. “Now beat it, buddy.”

The boy, a frightened look plastered on his face, all but ran out of the place.

“Such friendly customer service,” Paige giggled, tucking her impossibly perfect hair behind her ear.

“I think I reacted better than Noah would have,” I told her.

“True,” she agreed. “Now go do table three, Gingy.”

“How dare you mock my hair color,” I shook my head and walked over to table number three.

“Welcome to Paige’s, my name’s Kindle and I’ll be your waitress this morning. Can I get you started off with something to drink?” the speech flowed out of my mouth without second thought.

“Hello, Kindle. Remember me?” the guy at the table smiled widely at me.

When I got a good look at the handsome hazel-eyed brunette my stomach lurched. This is why Noah was so giddy.

“John O’Callaghan,” I breathed. “How could I forget you?”

Just my fucking luck.