It's been a week since I crossed paths with Mr. Arrogant, and for some reason, I just can't stand him. "No, you don't," my subconscious argues, but who cares what that little voice says anyway?
Classes have been moving along, and graduation keeps coming closer. I'm in my third year now, and I can't wait to finally be done and start job hunting.
Accounting wasn't always my plan. At first, I wanted to study medicine. I dreamed of saving lives after the doctor couldn't save my father. But my fear of blood ruined that dream for me.
Then I thought maybe I'd be a chef, like Mom. I wanted to bake, to create, to carry a piece of her with me. But after nearly burning down the house, Mom made it clear that cooking was not my calling.
What did come naturally to me were numbers. I loved the rhythm of calculations; the way balancing accounts felt peaceful. Deep down, I knew it was right. So I chose accounting, and every so often I'd help Mom with her calculations too.
On top of classes, I juggle my part time-job— at the café. It's exhausting, but I like the independence and the little sense of accomplishment each shift brings.
Part of me wanted to stay close to her. That's why I never moved into a dorm or rented a place near campus. Leaving her alone after Dad's death just didn't sit right with me. She's all I have, and she works herself out, and staying was the least I could do.
Like today, I'm here by her side. Sales are coming in quickly, and it's overwhelming to think how far we've come compared to the struggles we faced just a few years back.
Soon evening slowly simmered through as the day faded alongside it's light.
The straneous activities of the previous week suddenly caught up to me as I found myself often tensed.
I needed some fresh air, so after helping Mom close up. I decided to take a stroll to soothe my restless mind. I happened to overhear two ladies engrossed in their gossip, oblivious to my presence.
got "I heard the ruthless CEO is back."
"He's so dreamy, just how I like mine."
"True, but rich too. I wish I could have him all to myself."
"Don't be ridiculous! You don't stand a chance."
"True, but still"
"No buts."
The older-looking woman declared with a tone of finality.
My suspicions surfaced as their obnoxious imagery seemed to bear a likeness to Mr. Arrogant.
I shoved the thought to the back of my mind.
as I carried on with my stroll.
A few minutes into the distant night, a rich smell of coffee filled the air and caused a rumbling in my tummy, reminding me of my thirst, eager to quench my familiar craving. I made my way inside.
The hiss of the espresso machine seemed to welcome me, with lamps hung from the ceilings to burgundy walls. The pictures hung on the walls were museum-worthy, the chairs carried a whiff of leather, and there was the clinking of mugs as the cafe was filled with people consuming this intoxicating liquid.
Some were chattering excitedly, some were drowned in their phones, laughter roared on the other side, and the view was bubbly as I always remember, with excitement rising in my chest as Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back to Me" filled the air sweetly from the speakers positioned at the entrance of the coffee shop.
It all jolted me out of my reverie as the old money settings did something to me that I could not lay out in words.
Taking my seat, I put my hand up to draw attention to my need; a server showed up minutes later. "Good evening, Emma, what can I get you? The familiar voice asked with a huge smile, "Black coffee, no cream, just black, Mr. Smith?" I said, plastering the same smile on my cheeks.
Mr. Smith's coffee shop has been my favorite since childhood, and I'm glad to say that the same vibe drew me in so many years ago. This coffee palace hasn't lost its charm.
I grinned happily as the thought of sipping my coffee built more excitement in my chest.
Some minutes later, Mr. Smith returned with my coffee, and the rich smell invaded my senses, reassuring me of a safe space that no man could ever make me feel.
"Thanks, Mr. Smith," I said as I took my first sip.
"You're welcome, kid," Mr. Smith replies with a lighthearted chuckle, walking away to serve the rest of the customers.
I drank a mouthful, holding back a moan as heat spread into my bloodstream, clearing the handprints the cold night bore.
Scrolling through my Instagram, I spotted a picture with the caption "Tyler Douglas, heir to the Douglas companies, returns." His features were in view, but his eyes were hooded.
My stomach dropped as a cold sensation trickled down my spine. Could my mind be playing tricks on me? I couldn't stop myself from thinking this Tyler heir might be...? If he is, then I sure am in trouble.
Stepping into the quiet night, I let the street light guide me; a faint spark of amusement lit my eyes as I thought about the absurd gossip I'd overheard.
This CEO must really be intimidating; the older woman looked like she'd explode of fear as she shunned her colleague from earlier on. It also made me question how handsome this so-called CEO is. I scoffed, rolling my eyes at the thought.
Walking further into the night and getting closer to home, a subtle breeze caressed my hair, leaving little strands to fall on my face as I absentmindedly tucked them gently behind my ears.
The steps hastened as I sought the comfort of my sheets.
With a few hastyful strides I soon arrived at my home. Stepping into the living room, a peculiar scent swept me off my feet.
The smell of pasta and chicken curry permeated the air as my lips curled in a knowing smile.
"Mom!" My voice rang in the air as I called out to my mom.
"Yes, hun, where have you been?" She asks, masking her worry with a smile.
I've always been able to see through Mom.
"I went for a stroll down the streets, Mom."
"Well, be careful, baby; I was worried sick."
"I promise to tell you when I'm heading out next time," I begged, giving her my fake puppy eyes. It worked like a charm every time.
"Okay," she said in defeat while I laughed victoriously, winning my mom's soft chuckle in return.
"So is that chicken curry I perceive?" I beamed, gaining Mom's chuckles.
"I'm all set to devour this delicacy," I said, mimicking an Italian accent.
"Freshen up first." Mom glared playfully.
"Fine," I groaned, sprinting as fast as my feet could take me to my room.
After dining with my mom, I set off to bed.
Lying in the dark, my thoughts reappeared, clueless as to why I couldn't get that arrogant fellow off my mind.
It was a matter of time; uncertain of what the next day would seem to bring, I drifted into a deep sleep, giving in to exhaustion.
Stay tuned!