The Coffee Girl

“He kind of sounds like an asshole,” Rachel said the next morning as she and I set up for our shift. Luckily, I didn’t have class because that was just something I wasn’t willing to deal with, especially after a night of tossing and turning, thinking about what had happened the previous day and if it would happen again.

I shrugged whilst stacking some paper cups atop each other. It felt strangely embarrassing talking about this with Rachel. She was the kind of person who would slap a guy if they talked to her like that and here I was, scared to say anything to upset a hockey player that obviously didn’t like me. Why was I such a chicken shit?

Leaning back against the counter, Rachel pulled her blonde locks into a ponytail. “You think he’ll come back today?”

“Who? Patrick?” I asked with a cock of my eyebrow. “I hope not. I mean, he’s nice and all, but this isn’t something I want to deal with, especially at work where—”

“No,” Rachel interrupted, “Jonathan Toews. You think he’ll come back? I kind of want to meet him, ask him what his problem is.” I smiled at the sudden frown that had taken over Rachel’s face. She always had a thing for standing up for me, as though I was a little kid being bullied on the playground.

Malcolm walked up behind us. “I’m sorry, do we pay you to sit around and talk all day?” He sneered. Rachel clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and spun around to face the cash register. He smiled at our sudden loss for words and turned on his heels to walk away.

“I have a plan,” I whispered, leaning closer to Rachel. She turned to me, intrigued, “we should find Malcolm a girlfriend, you know, keep him distracted and off our cases.”

Rachel snorted. “Good luck with that. You think we’d be able to find someone that would deal with his snarky comments and the insane amount of product he insists on putting in his hair?” I pursed my lips, thinking this through. “Exactly,” Rachel continued with a laugh, “unless we search on the internet. And even then she’ll only deal with him for the first five minutes.”

The two of us laughed in unison, thinking about how awesome it would be to watch Malcolm fail on his online date. After a year, we had taken pleasure in seeing Malcolm crash and burn, especially since he thought he was perfect at everything. Something—anything—that showed he was an actual human would make my year.

“You’re that happy to see me?” I heard a voice say, making me snap my head to the cash register. There with a broad smile was Patrick. His blonde hair seemed to be tousled softly by the wind, making him look slightly younger.

I sucked in a breath, feeling my face fall by the second. “Hi, Patrick.”

His smile slowly retracted. “I guess you’re not.”

I gave Rachel a surreptitious look and she took that as her cue to find something else to do. This was my chance to tell Patrick what I had wanted to—and what Jonathan also wanted me to—from the beginning.

“Look,” I began, licking my lips to waste some time, “You’re a cool guy, Patrick.” He smiled broadly, his teeth peeking out from behind his lips. “But I’m just not interested.” His smile faltered and his face fell. “I mean, we can be friends, I guess, but I’m not that interesting.” I chuckled and hoped he would too. His face seemed to brighten a bit.

“You’re—uh—very honest,” he said, rubbing his brow then running a hand through his curls.

I shrugged. “I know, surprisingly. I didn’t know I had the guts.” He laughed and I felt the weight of turning Patrick down being lifted off my shoulders. “Besides, your captain practically forced me to do it right away.” The last sentence was a rushed mumble, something that didn’t even register in my mind before coming out of my mouth.

Patrick’s face suddenly turned serious. This expression was something I hadn’t seen on him the entire week we had known each other. “Jonathan was here?”

I nodded, not sure what had just happened.

“And he talked to you about me?” His tongue ran over his top teeth and the playfulness in his eyes was now completely gone, replaced with anger.

“Uh—yeah,” I replied, “He was telling me how you were showing up late to practice because you were always here and that I should stop playing around with you, which is completely ridiculous—”

“I gotta go,” Patrick said hastily as he straightened up and gave me a sullen look before storming out of the coffee shop. Something about his reaction told me that things were going to be tense between him and Jonathan.

“What was that about?” Rachel asked, walking back to me. I continued staring out of the window in the direction Patrick left, wishing none of that had happened. What would he do when he met up with Jonathan? And would it ultimately be my fault? Maybe I should just learn to keep my mouth shut.

“I’m really getting sick of this job,” I mumbled aggressively before pushing my way past Rachel and walking into the back room to get what other supplies we needed.

☼☼☼☼☼☼

I went about the rest of the day doing anything except thinking about Patrick. It had worked...for about 10 minutes while I was helping a customer, but as soon as I was left alone, thoughts of him would trickle into my mind. What was he doing? Had he confronted Jonathan? Should I be expecting a visit from their coach next? I hadn’t asked for this; for all this worrying and trouble. It had found me. It always finds me.

Surprisingly, no one out of the ordinary had shown up at the shop the rest of the day. Rachel and I were able to get our job done with minimum talking and very few insults from Malcolm. We never really expected him to stop putting us down, but today was definitely better than the last.

At five minutes to 9, we were wiping down any spilled coffee or crumbs from the counters, putting up the chairs, and sweeping the floors. Malcolm had left before us. I never really understood why he always complained that we never did our jobs during work, but when the end of the day rolled along, he trusted us enough to leave early and let us lock up. He was a strange man; there was no doubt about that.

After telling Rachel that she could head home early to study for the major midterm test she had been talking about all week, I finished up whatever there was left then hung up my apron and locked up.

I walked down the dark Chicago streets, staring up at the beautiful city lights. There was always something about the scenery that made me feel warm inside. I was definitely a city girl. I zipped up my coat as the late September wind blew my hair to the side and sent chills up and down my body. The street I was walking on was desolate and I regretted not bringing my car. Gas was just another thing I didn’t want to deal with.

I quickened my pace as I heard faint sirens in the background. The sooner I got to my apartment, the sooner that feeling of impending doom would disappear and I could finally take a nice hot shower and go to bed.

“Hey! Wait!” I froze once I heard the deep voice behind me. The sound of footsteps echoed and I could tell that whoever it was, they were running to catch up with me. I unwillingly gulped and turned around. There was no use running, I probably wouldn’t get far. This was definitely the detriment to living in the city and working late.

Under the street lights I could clearly make out Jonathan’s face as he crossed the street in a jog and stopped in front of me. He wasn’t smiling. I knew that Patrick must have talked to him.

“Didn’t we agree that you’d stop screwing around with Kaner?” he asked in a low grumble. For a second I didn’t know who he was talking about then I realized that between hockey players, nicknames were only used.

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my coat, trying to put on a tough face. “We didn’t agree on anything,” I replied and Jonathan clenched his jaw, making the muscles protrude. “Besides, I didn’t do anything. I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“You must have done something.” I was half expecting fire to start spurting out of Jonathan’s mouth. “He came back trying to start a fight with me, asking why I would go behind his back and talk you out of dating him.”

“That’s a good question,” I said with a smirk. What right did he have getting involved in Patrick’s life?

“Whatever you’re doing, it’s turning him against his team.” Jonathan’s voice grew louder and I wondered what someone would think if they walked by and saw a guy yelling at a girl on a vacant street. “I’m just trying to look out for him.” He ran a hand through his hair and diverted his eyes up to the sky before looking back down at me. The redness in his cheeks was deeper beneath the light, giving him a permanent blush. “He’s not—things are messed up for him right now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in a whisper.

Jonathan licked his lips and remained silent for a moment. I could tell he was deciding whether or not to tell me. With a small sigh he said, “His girlfriend just broke up with him. He was a mess a week ago.” My mouth parted slightly. I couldn’t imagine Patrick, with his big smile, to ever be a mess. Jonathan shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jacket and kicked a pebble to the middle of the road. “I think that’s why he’s doing this—hitting on random girls. He’s just trying to forget.”

I nodded as I stared up Jonathan’s worry-struck expression. “I—I didn’t know.” Again, my voice was a whisper.

“No, you didn’t,” he replied. His tone was calmer now, but I knew he hadn’t exactly warmed up to me. “Just don’t encourage him, okay? One smile and this guy could think he’s falling in love.”

I thought back to the day Patrick told me I had a nice smile. “But I have to do my job, and that means talking to customers. And besides”—I paused to tuck a strand of wind-blown hair behind my ear—“I like Patrick. He’s a cool guy. I just don’t like him in the way he wants me to.”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “Then don’t say anything to him.” His voice was still hostile. “The last thing he needs right now is a girl to play around with his feelings so close to a game.”

“I can’t just ignore the guy,” I replied. How exactly would Patrick feel if he came to Starbuck’s and I refused to talk to him? Did Jonathan think this would build up his confidence after the break-up?

“Try,” Jonathan said in a stern voice then turned around and walked around the corner, out of view.