The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a soft, golden light across the driveway as I made my way to the garage. It was already afternoon, the kind of warm, slow part of the day where everything feels a little quieter, perfect for a first day at the café down the road.
I had already talked to them last week, so today was just showing up and trying not to mess things up. Easy, right?
When I swung open the garage door, I froze.
Cars. Everywhere. Sleek, shiny, and way too fancy for my taste. Sports cars with glossy paint jobs, SUVs that looked like they belonged to movie stars, and well, there it was…A Ferrari gleaming in the corner.
I whispered to myself, "My dad would probably lose it if he saw this."
Before I could get too starstruck, Greg appeared behind me, calm and casual like this was no big deal.
"You can use any of these," he said, nodding like handing over keys to a Ferrari was just nothing.
I laughed nervously and shook my head. "Maybe I'll just take the one that doesn't scream 'rich kid.' Don't want the café thinking I'm rolling in money."
Greg smirked, a little impressed. "Good call. Keep it low-key."
I grabbed the keys to a plain, practical sedan and slid in, feeling both grateful and a little out of place. The seat still smelled faintly like new leather, and the steering wheel felt too smooth in my hands.
Before starting the engine, I pulled out my phone and opened our old text thread. Dad's name sat there at the top, unread messages still marked "delivered" from months ago. He probably wouldn't see this one either, but I typed it anyway.
"Dad, I'm going to my first job this summer. It's not gonna be that bad, right?"
I hit send before I could overthink it.
I slid the key, the engine started humming to life. My hands tightened on the wheel as I shifted into reverse, easing the car back slowly, careful not to scrape any of the glossy bumpers lined up behind me. Every one of them looked like they belonged in a showroom, not a garage. The sedan felt plain compared to the Ferraris and Porsches,
The café wasn't far, just a short drive down the winding road past the beach, where the air smelled faintly of salt and sunscreen. I rolled the windows down and let the warm afternoon breeze tangle my hair, trying to shake off the nerves.
It was the kind of place you could miss if you weren't looking at the small details around you—white building, blue awning, handwritten chalkboard sign out front that said Fresh Brewed Iced Coffee in curly letters. Even from the car, I could hear the soft clink of cups and the low noises of conversation spilling out the open door.
For some reason, my palms felt sweaty.
Am I nervous? Maybe. This was just a summer job. But for me, it felt like something bigger.
I stepped inside and let out a slow, deep sigh, as if I could push the nerves right out of me. The smell of espresso hit me first—warm, rich, and a little sweet. A guy behind the counter glanced up and smiled. I scanned the small café until I spotted a woman in an apron who had to be the manager. She handed me a timecard, showed me where to clock in, and just like that, my first day had officially started.
"Are you new here?" the guy called from the counter once I walked past again.
"Yeah," I said cautiously.
He leaned forward just slightly, eyes narrowing like he was trying to place me. "I thought I'd seen all the pretty faces around here," he said, "but I guess not."
For a second, I actually turned my head, scanning the space behind me. There was no one there. Just me.
My eyebrows shot up. "Uh… thanks?" I said, my voice coming out way more like a question than I intended. I focused on straightening the stack of menus in my hands, as if they were suddenly the most important thing in the world.
He smirked, clearly amused at my awkwardness, and went back to wiping down the counter like he hadn't just made my brain short-circuit.
Is this it? The summer I've been waiting for? Did I just… glow up? Like in the books, where there's always that one summer that changes you. Is this the start of my new era? I'd never been noticed by anyone before, at least not in a way that made my stomach do this weird flip.
I went to the back to grab an apron and my name tag, my heart still doing this stutter-step thing. Great. Day one, and I'd already managed to look like a deer in headlights.
When I stepped back out toward the counter, the guy from earlier was still in the exact same position I saw him, leaning casually like he had nowhere better to be. His eyes flicked down to my name tag.
"Amelia…" he said slowly, like he was tasting the name. Then he smiled, a little crooked. "You probably don't remember me."
I blinked at him, confused.
He went on, his tone easy but his eyes locked on mine. "Steven. Middle school. The dance."
I must've looked skeptical, because he grinned wider. "When you wore that big dress… tripped near the snack table. I think about it sometimes."
I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Wow. Thanks for bringing that up."
"What? I thought it was cute," he said, leaning just a little closer, voice dropping in this conspiratorial way. "You were hard to miss."
Hard to miss? Me? That didn't even make sense
And just like that, I was back in that gym wearing a hideous big dress, tripping over my own feet, cheeks burning.
I snapped back, I thought he had to be mixing me up with someone else. Because there was no way he remembered me. But then I saw it…this flicker of recognition in his eyes and my brain just… stalled.
Either way, my hands were suddenly way too sweaty to hold a coffee cup now.
"Relax," Steven said lightly, like he could read my thoughts. "I'm not gonna bring up every embarrassing thing you've ever done. Just… maybe a few."
I rolled my eyes, but it didn't help the heat creeping up my neck.
"Great," I muttered. "Something to look forward to."
He grinned like this was the most entertaining thing that had happened to him all week. "So, Amelia, welcome to the neighborhood."
I nodded, and turned to start on my first order. My heart was still pounding in my ears. The bell over the door jingled, and a woman with sunglasses perched on her head walked up to the counter, scrolling on her phone. I straightened, trying to look like I knew what I was doing.
"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" My voice came out a little too high, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Large oat milk latte, extra hot," she said without looking up.
I nodded quickly and punched it into the register. Easy enough. I could do this.
Behind me, I could feel Steven's gaze. Not in a creepy way, but like he was waiting to see if I'd mess up. My hands fumbled with the oat milk carton.
"Twist the cap the other way," he murmured, and I hated how my shoulders instantly relaxed at the sound of his voice.
"I know" I said
The machine hissed, the milk steamed, and I slid the drink across the counter with what I hoped was a professional smile. The woman finally looked up, gave me a quick "Thanks," and walked out.
"That wasn't so bad," Steven said, leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world..
By the time my break rolled around, the sun had dipped low enough to paint the sidewalk gold. I sat on the back step with a lukewarm iced tea, feeling the ache in my feet settle in like an old friend. It wasn't glamorous, but it was mine. My first real day.
When my shift ended, I untied my apron, shoved it into the cubby, and slipped out the front door. The air outside felt different, lighter somehow, like I'd just crossed some invisible line.
I slid into the sedan, sent my dad another text "Just survived the day one" and started the engine.
The drive back was quiet, the kind of quiet where you actually hear your own thoughts.The exact moment I finally got home, I was ready to collapse straight onto my bed, shoes and all. But then my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
Hey, you left this.
Attached was a picture of my bracelet, the one Valerie gave me years ago, the only piece of jewelry I wear without thinking. I could tell it was taken right on the café counter.
Me: Oh… right. I must've taken it off. Hard to use the machine with things on my arms.
Me: How did you even get my number?
Steven:
You put it on your application. Manager told me to let you know.
I stared at the screen for a second too long.
Me: Oh. Right. Well… you can keep it for now.
Steven:
Sure thing, Amelia.
I set my phone down, but for some reason my cheeks felt warm. Not because he used my name—just… maybe a little. Whatever.