Tom's comment echoed in her mind for the next day and a half. It was now Friday afternoon and the words from Wednesday were still following her around like a fly or mosquito buzzing around her ear that disappeared just as she was about to swat it, only to return moments later for further misery.

The barista in her acted more like a trainee. Her mind just wasn't in it and people were taking notice. On Wednesday, closing took Ada an hour longer than usual. Thursday she didn't need to because Crystal had sent her home.

The spaciness wasn't reserved for only work, but followed her to school. If people were still picking on her, she hadn't noticed. The bad part was that the two days she had left in testing were the two days that Tom wouldn't leave her brain long enough for her to recall anything academically.

If college was still on the menu, she would have screwed up her future.

Britt never asked about Ada's conversation with Tom, causing Ada to figure out she'd most likely been listening. Still, she expected some comment and was still waiting for that shoe to drop.

It was now early Friday evening, with a few hours yet ahead of her. It had been another rainy day, which meant a busy evening for her; not something Ada was looking forward to if her head didn't get itself in order.

There was a second person meant to work with her, someone who'd started a week before that she'd only worked with once, but an hour into the shift, the bitch still hadn't showed and the coffee shop was becoming crowded.

Ada wiped her hair damp with sweat away from her face and let out an exhausted huff.

There were only two other employees besides her and Crystal. One of them had requested the night off, the other wasn't answering her phone, and Crystal had taken Ada's mother to a gallery opening.

Britt had helped Ada on Wednesday and was now helping again. She didn't know how to work the machines, but could clean off tables and keep customers charmed and the hell away from Ada.

There was a six person line and Ada added another person by chucking their drink into the sink. She'd called the woman up to the counter three damn times to pick up her drink, but she was chattering away on the phone; in hearing distance and just not caring. If she wanted it so bad she was going to go through the process all over again.

"Excuse me," a man spoke gruffly to her as he held a cup in front of her face and began swaying it around. "I told you my name was Erik, and you wrote Larry. Is it so hard to get a name right? What is with you people messing up customers' names?"

Fucking tourists.

Ada had given up pleasantries and was about ready to snatch the bell off from above the door if it chimed one more damn time. "Are you serious?"

"If you can't handle a critique, maybe you shouldn't be in customer service." He banged the cup back on the counter. Maybe not banged, but enough where coffee splashed out of the cup.

"I can handle critiques, sir. What I can't handle is you ruining someone else's drink order that I now have to remake," she shot back. "And as a heads up, if a cup has a name on it that sounds nothing like yours, it isn't your order."

The man turned beet red and backed away from the mess he'd left on the counter.

You would think after the stupid that came out of that guy, there would be nowhere to go but up. But that night, as she worked tirelessly just to keep her head above water, it appeared as if someone had dumped off a bus load of people to celebrate her night alone with a dipshit parade.

One woman in her fifties stared at the menu and clicked her tongue for three minutes as the people piled in behind her, which would have only been a small agitation if she hadn't been on her phone during the time she waited in line. If she'd put the damn thing away, she would have figure out what she wanted before ever getting to the register.

"Can I get a grande-"

"You aren't at Starbucks, lady. Here we just call them large."

During a point where Ada worried a scream would escape her, a woman in her thirties came in who ordered quickly and with a smile.

"That'll be $4.11."

She dug through her purse. "I have two singles right here. Wait, let me see what I have in change."

It was the longest two minutes of Ada's life.

The next customer on her shitlist was an elderly woman who ordered a decaf coffee; just an ordinary old fashioned coffee. "Hang on. I think I have a gift card in here somewhere."

The damn thing was only a $1.09. Ada couldn't imagine wasting a chunk of a gift certificate on a price tag so minor. At least the woman couldn't do that in this case. "No, you don't. We don't do gift cards."

The woman beamed and shook her head as she brushed off Ada's comment and continued searching through a purse that was large enough to fit a globe in it. "Oh, I'm sure you do. My daughter got me one for Christmas."

"I'm sure you don't. I have been here for over three years, since about a month after it opened, and we legit do not have gift cards."

She didn't believe Ada for a good five minutes, which at least bought her some time to catch up on orders until the woman announced her defeat. The gift card she had in her purse was for a chain sandwich shop.

The next one was not so uncommon, yet when the dipshit's were rolling in at a continuous pace, it was something Ada could not mentally handle.

"Can I get a non fat soy latte with extra whipped cream and just a touch of chocolate syrup?" The girl looked like she was college age, old enough to not be so fucking stupid.

Ada only stared at this one, having given up with all the pleasantries that came with the job. "You seriously need to get the hell out."

The woman looked puzzled for a moment before backing away from the counter and into a man who was shielding his face beneath an ascot cap.

Tom shook his head at her once he got to the counter, a gratified smile fading as he discerned the true amount of stress she was under.

Ada wiped the hair from her face yet again as Tom left his spot at the front of the line and went around the counter. "Britt, you're at the register for a minute!"

"I don't know the prices!"

"They're on the damn board!"

Tom pulled her into the kitchen, the doors flying back and forth behind them as they walked to the far back of the room, away from all the people she was about to snap on.

Tom had never seen her out of her element at the coffee shop before; not once. She'd always been on her game, had a smile on her face and a skip in her step no matter how overwhelmed she was. But he was seeing the other side of her, the side he created with that damn confusing answer of his.

This time it was Tom who tucked her hair behind her ear. The gesture normally would have made her melt, and it did a bit, but now it just made her more troubled.

"You okay?"

Ada gave him a half-assed glare. "This is your fault, you know. Ever since you left here Wednesday, I've been a fucking moron. I got sent home yesterday because I couldn't do my damn job."

She paced in a small, lopsided circle as she took deep breaths in a struggle to get herself under control. She only paused when she became dizzy and looked at Tom in defeat. "What the hell did you mean when you said you don't come here for the coffee?"

Tom leaned against the stainless steel counter, scooting further down when his hand hit a substance that was formerly a muffin. "I meant that I come here to spend time with you."

His face was indecipherable, as was his tone, which would have piqued Ada's interest any other time. Now she just wanted to punch him in his unreadable, perfect face.

"But what does that mean?" She pleaded with him. Ada walked to him, her anger disappearing from her body the closer she got to him. "I need a zero bullshit answer from you if I'm going to survive the night." Ada pressed her palm against his chest, keeping him in place while she looked up at him with desperate eyes. "Please?"

Tom let out a huff of air before he connected his eyes with hers. He stood there frozen, just staring at her; into her. She saw as he swallowed hard and lifted himself off the counter to tower over her.

She was ready for him to bolt from the room, but he didn't this time; only stared at her for what felt like decades before she felt his arm snake around her waist and pull her against his body. While one hand encased her against him, the other moved up to her cheek before the tips of his fingers trailed across her jawline, then brushed against her bottom lip.

The dizzy feeling returned, only this time unrelenting as Ada's head swayed at his every touch.

When his fingers moved to tip up her chin, the doors to the kitchen flew open. "I need a-"

Ada didn't realize her eyes were closed until they shot open in the direction of the disruption.

Britt looked like a deer caught in headlights. She turned to leave the room, then turned back before muttering out the words, "I don't know how to make any of these drinks."

"We'll be out in a second," Tom told her before a sheepish Britt left the room. He turned his attention back to Ada. "I'll work the register and you make the drinks."

Ada stumbled when his arm left her and grabbed onto the steel countertop behind her to regain stability. "Okay."

"Okay," Tom repeated before heading toward the doors. He stopped before opening them. "My zero bullshit answer is that I'm crazy about you."