DESIRÉE || OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

"Desirée..."

"Abigail! Where the hell are you? Why didn't you wake me up?" I grumbled, grabbing my to-go coffee from Jacqueline. Stuffing my file folder under my arm, I fumbled for my purse to pay.

"You know I try my best Desirée, but you could sleep through five natural disasters."

"And I keep saying to try harder."

As I grabbed my change from the counter, my gaze met Jacqueline's furrowed eyebrows. "Hold on a sec, Abigail."

To address Jacqueline: "What?"

"I'm not missing even the very first milliseconds of my afternoon lectures for anyone. Especially not for you, Desirée. Be on time for your shift today," Jacqueline warned.

I snatched my change. "All this last-minute scrambling won't erase the fact that you've been partying all semester," I told her.

"Oh go fuck yourself."

"And taking your frustration out on me won't boost your GPA either," I added as I disappeared through the doorway, her cusses still raining from inside the café.

"Desirée, Mr. Evans just walked in!" Abigail's panicked voice echoed through the phone.

"Oh, shit!" I yelped, struggling to gain composure. The coffee burned my hand, the file folder still dug into my armpit, and my side bag which was already full with two heavy textbooks and my laptop was weighing me down. "I just left the café. I'll be there in a minute. Save me a seat, Abigail."

"A seat?"

"Yes, Abigail. Find me a seat. That's what you're supposed to do when you fail as my alarm clock and I'm late for class. And don't even think about putting me in the back."

"Don't worry, I've got you a seat right in front of me. I'm in the middle aisle."

"Perfect."

I was a few sprints away from the lecture hall when I paused to take the lid off my coffee and blow on the hot liquid to cool it off a bit.

As I raised the cup to my lips, ready to take a big gulp, someone bumped into me with enough force that it sent my file folder flying to the floor.

The hot coffee spilled and stinged my hand as I dropped the whole cup altogether, completely soaking the contents of my folder. My heart sank. "No, no, no, no, no! My assignment!" Ten pages of stress and sweat! With time running out, reprinting everything at the library wasn't a viable option.

"Hey! You!" I yelled after the culprit, who mumbled a quick "sorry" without even turning around. It was useless to try and salvage the drenched papers. I had no choice but to leave it behind.

"Hey! Come back here! Don't you dare walk away like I'm not yelling after you! Hey!"

I followed the tall guy desperately, his long legs and giant strides making it impossible for me to catch up.

As he rounded the corner, I saw him head towards the same destination as me, and then finally, same lecture hall.

My pulse quickened as I rushed to intercept him, seizing his arm and then jerking him backward. The soft hairs on his arm tickled my fingers. "Didn't you see what happened when you bumped into me like that? You ruined my assignment. I spent a week and a half on those stupid papers."

"Stupid?" a voice sneered. I turned to see Mr. Evans, his arms crossed behind his back as he watched us.

Oh, great. Just what I needed. No chance of redeeming myself.

"I'll keep your opinion in my mind," he said.
"We've got a lot of catching up to do. Why don't you latecomers find a seat?"

The guy stared at me for a moment. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away. I watched him go, my anger burning hot.

I spotted Abigail. Her distinctive African-print top and braided gray hair made her easy to find. And she wasn't seated in the mid-aisle. She was at the back. Of course she lied.

As I approached the empty seat in front of her, Mr. I-bump-into-you-and-not-give-a-fuck swooped in and took it. He plopped down, his large frame filling the seat, and passed Abigail the bag that was supposed to reserve the seat.

I marched over to him, my fists clenched. "You're in my seat," I declared, doing a little stomp with my feet.

The corners of his lips slowly went up, his gaze lingering on me a little too long. "No, I'm not," he stated calmly.

"Yes, you are. The bag you found in this chair was in it for a reason. It's reserved for me."

"Well, the bag owner said I could sit.." he gestured towards Abigail, who only smiled back at him, completely ignoring me.

"Look, why don't you just sit in the back?" he suggested. "There are plenty of seats back there."

"Because I don't like the back. If 𝘺𝘰𝘶 like the back so much, why don't 𝘺𝘰𝘶 sit in the back?"

"Cause, 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, I already have a seat right here."

"A seat which you stole!"

"What's going on up there?!" Mr. Evans' deep voice boomed across the room.
Everyone turned to stare at us. "Are you two going to be a pain in the ass all morning? If so, I'm gonna need you to exit."

"Don't worry, Mr. Evans," the guy said, towering over me as he stood up, still with his smug smile. "𝘞𝘦 won't be a problem." He walked to the back of the room, the scent of his expensive cologne lingering in the air.

"Take your seat, Miss. My patience is wearing thin," Mr. Evans warned.

I sat down, my face flushed with embarrassment.

Mr. Evans continued, "My TA will be collecting the assignments and taking attendance while I teach. Yes, the same assignments I specifically asked for in hard copy. The wise ones amongst you still emailed them, and I'm pretty sure the even wiser ones haven't even started. Well, if you fall in the category of the last two groups aforementioned, congratulations, you're one step closer to failing this course." My heart pounded so hard, it could have fallen out. "Now, let's get back to business."

I was so eager to explain myself to Mr. Evans about the assignment, so I quickly packed up my things right after he was done.

Abigail approached me and tried to talk.

"I'm sorry ... Do I know you?" I sarcastically asked, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"I ... swear I have a good excuse for not helping you out earlier. But seriously, do you know who that guy was?"

"Yeah. That jerk's the reason I have to beg for Mr. Evans' mercy like I'm one of those unserious students. He 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘺 bumped into me right before class, then had me spill coffee all over my work."

"I'm so sorry ... I uhh ... I'm done for the day. Want me to come beg with you?"

"Very funny, Abigail." I replied curtly, walking away.

...✍︎

After an hour of pleading, I entered the café to find Clara and Lexi, the only two waitstaff available, busy waiting tables. A long line of customers formed in front of the counter. Had Jacqueline already left without waiting?

"Go rescue her before 𝘺𝘰𝘶 get fired," Lexi said as she approached me, pointing toward the counter, where I spotted Abigail.

Seeing my best friend grappling with the counter job she had once deemed too unappreciated and underpaid for her was oddly comforting.

I stifled a laugh.

"Oh come on, Lexi. The least you could have done was tell her what to do."

"Don't pretend you don't know why I didn't go near that counter," she responded. I knew why. Harrison, the manager, insisted that only either Jacqueline or I touch his cash register. He stressed it very often.

I approached the counter just as a customer began raising his voice at Abigail, who, as anticipated, fired back.

"Jacqueline's already gone?" I asked casually, pretending not to notice her fighting with our coffee brewer.

"Yeah, um... not long ago..." she began, fidgeting nervously with the equipment. "I swear it looks easier when I'm not the one doing it..."

After enjoying the amusing scene for a bit longer, I realized the long line of customers had seen enough. And that I needed my job.

I quickly took over and apologized to the customers, and soon, everything was back on track.

"You know, you weren't that bad," I told her when I was done with the last takeout order, nudging her playfully as she stepped aside.

She laughed, showing off her deep dimples that I had always envied a little.

"Ugh," she said, removing the apron. "I walked in just as Jacqueline was yelling your name and listing the fourteen different ways she'd murder you if she set her eyes on you. I told her you'd be here soon, and she just threw the apron at me and cat-walked her ass outta here."

"So you decided to take on this underappreciated and underpaying job just for me?"

She shrugged. "Lexi and Carla wouldn't do it, so I had no choice ... Plus, I guess I owe you one."

I nodded with a polite smile. "You definitely do."

"𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴," Abigail drawled, smirking.

I rolled my eyes, knowing she was referring to how that jerk had addressed me earlier on. "Could you not? Do you have a crush on him or something? Is he even your type?"

She plucked a bagel from the pastry case, "Alessio is every girl's type." So that's his name? Is he Mexican? "But no, I don't have a crush on him. When he first approached the seat and politely asked if he could sit, I said yes because first, I couldn't resist. It was so cute how he asked, and second..." She trailed off, her gaze boring into mine. "Well, there isn't a 'second'. All you need to know is that Alessio owns a club and organizes the best parties. Invitation only, by the way. I hear Julian gets invited to all his parties, so those parties are my only chance to ever get Julian to notice me. 𝘐 want to get invited. I wasn't going to fight him for you and lose that chance."

I scoffed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I don't expect you to get it, considering you've been MIA from the dating scene since your breakup with Mark." I didn't tell Abigail 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 just because she was my bestfriend, so she didn't know about the incident. No one knew about the incident and the real reason why I 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 with Mark.

"Oh my gosh! Don't glare now, but Alessio just walked in!"

I glared towards the entrance, getting a slap on my arm from Abigail.

He took his long strides towards the counter, his eyes locked unto mine all the way.

"Hi, Abigail. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴," he ended with a slight bow in my direction.

"Hey!"

"Ugh."