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auburn

“I’m so fucking late,” I shrilled into the phone as I frantically threw my underwear around my small studio apartment while trying to find the right pair.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” my best friend, Emma, crooned down the line.

“I’m about to get my period,” I bellowed, throwing more underwear to the floor and desperately searching through my drawer. Why did I have so many goddamn pairs of panties?

“So? What does that mean?” Emma asked from the other line.

I whipped around to where I’d propped the phone on the bed.

“I need my period panties. Come on, you must have them. I feel like every girl does.” I paused, taking a deep breath and holding up my favorite pair of black briefs from when I was pregnant because of how comfortable and high up they came. “You know, like I don’t care if they get dirty and they seem to be that one comfort that just doesn’t let you down.”

I threw the panties on, and Emma laughed. “Aubs, we are still talking about underwear, right?”

“Yes, panties.”

“And not your mother?” Emma retorted, but I tsk ed into the phone.

“No,” I replied. “Definitely not my mother.”

“Have you talked to her?” Emma’s voice got low and serious.

“Nah, not since we moved out here.” I buttoned my jeans, then eyed the mess on the hardwood floor before deciding it could be dealt with later.

“She said she’s coming to his first away game since she’ll be in Colorado already.” I grabbed my work apron and purse before leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me.

I was on a third-floor walk-up, which was super annoying, especially when I was already late for work at the coffee shop. I had found this place off Craigslist when I insisted that I was still the adult in our relationship and was not about to take a dime from Austin. I had always been on my own, so I would continue to do so, but the move out here forced me to spend every penny I’d saved over the past few years.

Austin picked one of the most expensive sports out there to play, which meant I was used to picking up double and triple shifts sometimes just to cover tournament expenses and whatnot. “Are you still there?” I asked Emma, taking her off speaker and holding the phone to my ear.

“Loud and clear. I can hear you heaving down your steps.”

“Fuck off.” I giggled. “I’m not heaving.”

Emma had been my best friend since we had been five years old and in the same kindergarten class. We had originally hated each other because she had been outgoing, and I had been…well, not, but she had taken me under her wing and made me her best friend. We had been through so much for so long. She had been one of the only friends I had in high school who had stayed friends with me once the novelty of my cute newborn had worn off.

Emma lived in our small lakeside town in Michigan, working as a medical biller for our local hospital. Physically, she was my opposite, much taller than me with no curves, long, straight brown hair, and deep-brown eyes. She was chatty, while I was more introverted.

“You have to make sure you’re living for yourself, Aubs. It’s a new city, which means this is an opportunity to live differently.”

I scoffed. “So, you mean no one in our small town knows I was the girl who got knocked up at a party.”

She paused and let out a big sigh. “Yes. You know that’s exactly what I mean.”

I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Emma gave me the same lecture every single time we’d spoken since I moved out here. Since Chicago was such a big town, it gave me ample opportunities to go out and explore.

The problem Emma didn’t realize was that I was a mess when it came to men. Even last night when I was falling apart in front of Austin’s apartment, I had to run into an enigma of a man and looked like a blubbering fool in front of him.

I pushed open the door to the building and swiftly walked down the block where I’d managed to get a parking spot. The cafe was only ten minutes away, but I had to be there in ten minutes, so it allowed no time for parking or tardiness.

“I have to run, Em. I don’t want to be late.”

I was always a hot mess. My life was never quiet, peaceful, or calm in any way, and it never would be. Although that was probably the one thing I wanted the most—I had these fantasies that when I was old enough to retire, I would buy myself a big horse farm back in Michigan or maybe somewhere warmer where I could just…rest.

That was a far cry from the reality I lived in, but maybe one day I’d get there.

“Love you, Aubs,” Emma said as she hung up. I sprinted to my car, hoping I’d be able to get there on time.

* * *

I had started at the Jam Cafe, and despite my past barista experience, these fancy machines made me wish for a better instruction manual. Cassy, my boss, shot me an impatient look and urged, “Hurry up, we’ve got a customer waiting, but thank God it’s not rush hour.”

Silver-streaked hair framed her face, and round glasses fogged up as she used the frother machine. Clad in flowing fabrics and adorned with eclectic jewelry, Cassy embodied a carefree elegance. She was a stickler, but in a way that made you feel like you needed to do better, not in the aggressive fix-it-right type of way.

It was well into the late afternoon, just before closing, and the cafe was relatively quiet. Our clientele was mainly folks from the stadium and the nearby college, so the mornings were the hectic part of the day, a shift I hadn’t quite worked up to yet.

Muttering to myself about the complexity of the espresso machine, I tried yet again to get the machine to work.

Cassy, with a touch of sarcasm, reminded me, “People enjoy their coffees in the late afternoon too, you know.” She was trying to get me to hurry up, and while I was doing my best, the buttons weren’t working today.

“Well, they’ll have to enjoy it a bit slower today. I’m still figuring out the caffeine sorcery with these machines.” I tried to keep my tone light.

Cassy smirked. “Just don’t take all day. We’ve got a customer waiting, and they’re not here for a coffee tutorial.”

Finally managing to pour a decent cup, I handed it over to the waiting customer with a sheepish smile. They said thank you, then left, leaving me to wipe the counters. Cassy shot me a stern look. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually. With the crowd we get from the stadium and the college, we can afford leisurely afternoons, but in the mornings you’ll need to be quicker.”

I sighed. “Working my way up to those. Let’s hope these coffee aficionados appreciate my evolving skills.”

Cassy gave me a reassuring pat on the back. “Keep the caffeine flowing, and you’ll be the queen of the morning rush in no time.”

As I cleaned my station, I looked around the little shop. The space was modest, with only a handful of tables and chairs arranged thoughtfully across polished hardwood floors. The atmosphere was intimate, fostering a sense of warmth and community. A little display case near the counter showcased an array of delectable pastries from a daily delivery from a local pastry chef, adding a touch of artisanal flair to the cafe’s offerings.

The decor of the Jam Cafe seamlessly blended modern elements with an eclectic charm that echoed Cassy’s personal style. Artwork adorned the walls, depicting scenery from the nearby stadium and college, connecting the cafe to its vibrant surroundings. The fusion of sleek, contemporary furnishings was meshed with quirky, mismatched accents.

Plus, Cassy appreciated a good audiobook moment, so when the customers weren’t around, I could pop in my earbuds and listen to whatever smutty romance novel I’d downloaded from the library. I was getting to the good part too. The girl was being ravished by five men who had captured her during a post-apocalyptic moment. I was most definitely not paying attention when the door swung open and the little bell above it alerted us to another customer.

And I most definitely didn’t see the person at the counter staring right at me. I must’ve looked lost in a trance, staring over at the complicated espresso machine while wiping the same spot over and over again, but so many parts were flying, and holes being filled that I was engrossed in my book. Cassy was in the back office closing the register for the day, but a loud cough had me reeling backward and throwing my earbuds out of my ear. They bounced under the counter.

“Shit.” Then I realized the customer was still standing at the cash register. “Shit,” I repeated, hitting myself in the forehead as I leaned down to grab my earbuds.

“Sorry,” I called out. “I’ll be right with you.” I crawled on the sticky ground along rubberized bar mats, trying to find an earbud that blended in with the floor. The earbuds were crucial—an essential escape. They had to be found.

With my arms stretched under the counter, I heard a low cough.

“Are you looking for this?” the voice, masculine toned, asked, and I pushed myself up, hitting my head against the cool metal counter in the process.

“Shit.” Again. I looked around to see if Cassy had seen what had happened, and if she had, then I was most definitely getting fired. Grateful she wasn’t around, I brought my attention to the guy holding my little black earbud in his hand.

“This?” he asked, looking at me with a blank stare. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I quickly checked my clothes. Everything was in place, nothing was in my teeth, and my hands looked clean.

“Yes, thank you so much. So sorry, I just…if I lose it, then?—”

“It’s fine…”

I smoothed down a few stray curls that had fallen across my face, then took a deep breath and tucked my earbuds into the pocket of my apron.