By 1:15 the place quiets. I pull the tips, counting them fast with practiced flicks of my thumb. Not bad for a Tuesday: nearlythirty bucks, mostly singles, but they add up. I duck behind the counter, tap open my phone, and make a quick note in my “Future College Fund” spreadsheet. The savings account is embarrassingly small—like, “couldn’t buy a used iPad” small—but it’s mine. The number ticks up and I allow myself one satisfied breath before shoving the phone away.
Behind me, I hear the polite throat-clear of my manager. She’s been here forever, a living myth, always in fleece vests and New Balance sneakers, armed with a clipboard and an unnerving memory for birthdays.
“Counting the loot, Tara?”
“Just daydreaming about going to school,” I say, flashing a winning smile. “If it weren’t so expensive, that is.”
She leans on the counter, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Well, if you’re trying to make money, then have you ever thought about working full-time? You’ve got the hustle. I could recommend you for shift lead, easy.”
I hesitate. The safe answer would be yes, thank you, gimme all those responsibility dollars. But the real answer sits sour in my gut: I don’t want to be at the Daisy Cafe forever. I want out. I want more for myself, although what the “more” entails isn’t totally clear yet.
“Maybe someday,” I hedge. “Right now, I’m still planning to go to school. It would be nice to have a degree, you know?”
She nods like she understands, but her face softens a little. “You’d be good at anything you do, Tara. You’ve got a way with people, degree or no degree.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile, rinsing a carafe. “I just feel like I want to help people somehow, and a degree will open doors.”
She laughs and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You’re probably right. You’re a good egg, kid.”
I look away, suddenly embarrassed by the compliment. I focus on scrubbing the counter, fighting the happy glow spreading up my neck. I want to be a “good egg,” I do. Even if my forbidden longings for Hunter haunt every inch of my skin.
The hours slide by, each cup of coffee a little anchor point in someone’s day. I memorize names, orders, allergies, and the soft details that make people feel noticed. It’s exhausting, but it’s also the only power I have. To make someone smile, even if it’s just with a foam leaf in their cappuccino.
At three o’clock sharp, I duck into the bathroom and do a quick mirror check. My hair’s escaped its bun and gone wild, there’s chocolate syrup on my cheek, and my lips are bitten pink from gnawing at old memories. I wipe up, reapply some gloss, and give myself a pep talk in the streaky mirror: “You’re fine, you’re crushing it, nobody knows that you have a crush on your stepbrother. It’s okay.”
I clock out, tips stuffed in my pocket, and toss a final wave to the staff. My hands smell like vanilla and sanitizer. Outside, the air bites with winter, but my coat is thick and my brain is warm with the knowledge that at least today, I am moving forward.
Tomorrow, the world can try again to slow me down. Today, I am unstoppable. Even if I crave the forbidden at every turn.
I hitthe parking lot still buzzing, coat flapping as I brace myself against the wind. My car is a battered Corolla, sun-faded to the color of rusty blue and only held together by luck and stubbornness. Inside, it smells like yesterday’s fries and a whiff of vanilla air freshener. I throw my bag on the passenger seat, crank the heat, and scroll to Eliza’s number with a jittery thumb.
She answers before the second ring. Video, of course—her hair is perfect, even though she’s in sweatpants, and her makeup is a little too good for someone allegedly “studying for her entire future.”
“Am I on speaker?” she says, eyes bright and sly. “Are you driving?”
“Yes and yes, but it’s fine,” I reply, reversing out of my spot with one hand. “I’ve been driving since forever, and I’m careful, so it’s okay. But what’s new, girlfriend?”
Eliza beams and holds up her hand—left hand, ring finger shining with a blue spark that catches the last gasp of winter sun. “Okay, are you ready?”
I scream. Not a cute scream—a banshee wail that echoes off the dashboard.
“You did not!” I shriek. “Are you serious? Is that real? Tell me it’s not from Claire’s.”
She flips me the bird, then waves the ring again. “Custom sapphire, thank you very much. Jack proposed last night, and it was so romantic. I loved every part of it.”
I nod and smile because actually, Eliza’s story with her fiancé is a bit scandalous. Jack is actually her dad’s best friend, and she took up with the older man right under Gerald’s nose. Her parents were shocked, to put it lightly, when they found out about the age gap relationship, and not only that, but that their daughter works as a naughty cam girl with Jack’s full support. I don’t know if Jack does videos with her, but I know my buddy’s making a ton of money and loving the life.
Still, Eliza’s my best friend and I’m excited for her engagement.
“Congrats! The ring is beautiful, and you guys are going to be so happy together.”
My pretty friend nods, staring down at her finger dreamily.
“Yes, it’s a dream come true. I’m sooo over the moon.”
I giggle.
“But girlfriend, I can’t believe you’re getting married before me! I am losing this race.”