I wonder if I'll ever like working. I hope to think that if I'd be doing something I like, I would enjoy it. Working as a barista is not something I want to do though, nor something that I like or enjoy, but the pay is good and my shifts go quickly.

"Fran, there's a customer waiting. Do you want to take your break, and I'll cover for you if Karen comes out?" Leah, one of my coworkers asks me, and I blink slowly before looking up at her.

I didn't realise I spaced out, "No, I'm good, thank you, though."

Doing my job, I serve the nice woman her coffee and muffin, smiling until the bell above the door stops ringing. Leah pulls out the stool and I take a seat, my back aching from standing for the last three hours.

"So, why are you spacing out at work?" she asks and I sigh because that's a loaded question. "Do I need to squeeze it out of you?"

"I met a guy and I'm all confused."

"How come?" she asks, biting into a stolen muffin.

"Because I don't know him. I met him on a run one morning, but now he seems to always be around, which is weird. Before that morning, I had never seen him in my life," I explain, "But now he's in my psych class and I saw him at the store earlier this week. It may be just a coincidence that we keep bumping into each other, or that he is in fact a stalker."

She looks at me like I'm an idiot, "Okay, let me just tell you something my momma once told me. You may see the same stranger so many times in your life because that's just how life is, especially when you're at college. You don't acknowledge or take notice of every single person you pass, you just don't. Before you and this guy met, you probably saw each other several times, but never realised because you didn't know him yet; you've most likely seen this guy so many times in the last year around college. Remember that just because you didn't know him then, doesn't mean he wasn't always there."

I let this all sink in, making me feel much better about the whole possible stalker scenario I vaguely had in mind, "Thank you, that's helped."

"So, do you like the guy?"

"I don't really know him to be honest, but he intrigues me. I want to get to know him, but... my heart has been broken too many times and there's only so much it can take. He seems like a really nice guy, but I really don't know anything about him."

"I say get to know him; there's not much harm in that, is there? You never know, you could be great friend's from this, or even better, you could be lovers," she whispers dramatically, just as the bell above the door chimes. "I'm going on my break now, are you going to be okay on your own for five minutes?"

I nod, standing up to serve the next customer, but when I do, I meet those emerald eyes.

"This is why I think you're a stalker," I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Ethan laughs, arching a brow, "I'm the stalker? Francesca, this is my usual café."

"Yeah, I've served this guy a few times," Leah says before leaning closer to me, "By the way, hot, very hot."

"Ugh, just go on your break," I mutter and she laughs, grabbing her half eaten muffin.

"Just to put it out there, I am not stalking you," Ethan says and I frown at him, "I'm not, I promise."

"I'm sorry, I'm just paranoid. I've worked here since last year and I've never seen you before, it's all very strange," I mutter, "Don't you think it's strange?"

"A little, but I only come in on Tuesdays usually."

"That makes sense, last year I only worked Wednesdays and Thursdays. I'm doing Saturday as well now," I speak my thoughts aloud, "Anyway, hello, I'm your server today, what would you like?"

"Two cinnamon buns, a standard black coffee and maybe your number?" he asks, a dashing smile on his face.

"First of all, don't tell Karen this because she's kind of scary, but the cinnamon buns here aren't even that good. Second of all, the number thing, that was smooth, I'll give it to you, but I don't exactly know you well enough to give you my number."

As I said, I want to know him better before giving him my number, I don't want a proposal, I just want a sign that he isn't just like the other guys that will only text me when they want a fucking release.

"Don't knock these, they're nicer than anywhere else, and you do know me; I'm Ethan, you're Francesca."

I chuckle, grabbing a to-go cup, arching my brow at him as I do, "What's my last name? Because I certainly don't know yours."

"I think I'm going to sit in, do you mind?" he asks and I wordlessly answer, grabbing one of our other cups.

"Where will you be sitting?" I ask, and he points to the table closest to the counter, "Take a seat and I'll bring over your order."

"Thank you. And I do know your last name because your friend Matt yelled it in the store, I just can't remember it," he admits as I walk over with a tray of his coffee and buns. "Mine's Kane, by the way."

Ethan Kane.

"That's weirdly fitting," I mutter under my breath.

"Do I have to squeeze your name out of you?"

What is with people wanting to squeeze me like orange juice, today?

"It's Salatino," I say, and his smile widens.

"So you are Italian," he muses.

"Did the accent not give it away?" I laugh a little at that, but then the bell above the door chimes again, "I hope you enjoy your food, if you need anything just give me a shout."

"Francesca, I still want your number."

"You don't need it though," I retort as I make my way behind the counter ready to serve another customer.

∞

Ethan has allowed me to get on with my job without bothering me, but he's still here an hour later, sitting at the same table, scrolling on his phone as he eats his bun torturously slowly. I don't think he's even touched his black coffee; it must be cold now.

"You're staring again," Leah whispers into my ear and I whine, rubbing it.

"He's weirding me out. Why do you think he is still here?" I whisper, taking a sip from my coffee.

"He's still here because he obviously likes you."

It's a simple thing; someone liking you. But when you look like me, you've been through shit what I've been through, having someone like you, it's hard to believe sometimes, even now, after him asking for my number. Trust doesn't come easy for me, it takes time and effort, something most people don't put in, but he is.

Ethan suddenly looks up, "Hey, can I please have another coffee, mine seems to have gone cold?"

"Of course, I'll get it to you right away," Leah says, retrieving his cup from the table.

Ethan stands from his table by the counter and makes his way over to where I'm standing. "Francesca, if I can't get your number yet, can we at least hang out?"

"Hang out?"

"After work. When do you get off?"

"Now, in fact, she gets off now," Leah says, and I spin around to her. I don't finish work for another two hours. "Would you want me to put this in a to-go cup for you?"

"Leah, I need the money," I whisper.

"And you will get it, I'm covering," she says and before I can bring up Karen, she reads my mind and says, "I'll tell her a made-up lie. Go and have some fun."

"It'll be worth your time, I promise," Ethan says.

I sigh looking between the two pleading faces, "Fine, but I'm driving, I don't trust you just yet."

"Okay, I'll accept that," he smiles. 

What am I getting myself into?

~~~~~

A/N

This book is finally starting, I guess and I'm really happy with it.

I've planned out my book and it should have 43 chapters, maybe a little more if I add any but no less. I now know how it ends and oh my god. That's all I'm going to say. I'm looking forward to writing it though and this feels like a new journey.

Question of the chapter:

How do you stay motivated? I would really benefit from your answers because nothing really works for me but music, I guess.

Thank you for reading! Please comment your thoughts, and vote by pressing the little star, and if you want, you can like follow me too. Xx

~B