My alarm shrieked at 4:30 am on the dot. That didn't even give me a full 3 hours of sleep. I woke up, but my body felt as if it were dead. A lot of mornings were like this. A zombie morning. Getting up so early with such little sleep led to it.
As my phone continued to make that awful, awful noise, I found the strength to pick up my hand and turn the thing off. I took a deep breath and stretched. My brain was telling me that I should stay in bed and get rest, but my job was calling my name.
Most people regret their 21st birthdays the next morning because of a wicked hangover, but I regretted it because I stayed out so late. Honestly, my night would have been better if I met Jackson earlier and got home by a somewhat reasonable hour.
Either way, now was happening, and I had to deal with it. Very slowly, I got out of bed and lifted my hands to the ceiling. A moan escaped my mouth, and I felt something crack. My eyes adjusted to the red glow in my room. That was one reason why my place was so cheap. A giant, neon sign was right across the street and kept my room lit 24/7. It was also extremely small, and I worked for the landlord.
Just half an hour later, I found myself baking bread and preparing to open the store. That was a perk of working at the bakery; I got to smell fresh goodies every morning. Another perk was that Mrs. Russo, my boss and landlord, was one of the kindest women I've ever met. Ever since I found her, she's treated me like a son. I didn't even need to cook myself breakfast because she believed that she should take care of her employees, so I got something from the store.
"Opening time!" She announced as she unlocked the door and flipped the sign. I finished filling some doughnuts and placed them in the display. Then, I grabbed a cup of freshly brewed coffee and handed it to her.
"Thank you , dear," she said and took her place behind the counter. She always had the warmest smile for me. I don't know how she did it.
"Of course," I replied, returning the smile.
All morning, customers filed in and out of our store. Most of them were regulars that I had gotten to know over the course of my time there, so we had casual conversations.
Reynold, a man in his upper 60s, always told me and Mrs. Russo about this woman down the hall that he fancied. Every morning he tells us that he's going to invite her to come get a pastry with him, and every morning, he comes in alone.
"Where's your girlfriend?" Mrs. Russo would tease.
"I got too nervous. My hands were all clammy, but tomorrow for sure!" He'd claim.
Then there was the businesswoman. I don't know her name, but she comes in every day at the exact same time. She's like clockwork. I can only assume she's a businesswoman because she's always wearing suits and talking on the phone. Even though she's never actually said a word to me, she mouths the words 'thank you.'
I studied the people and watched as the sun illuminated the street outside. There was a certain calmness to watching the day begin. I sat down as the rush passed, and the door swung open. The little bell up top dinged, and I stood up to see Charlotte walk in. She was on a mission.
"Good morning," I said.
"I am so sorry about missing your birthday last night. I feel so bad," she said in a frenzy.
"It's fine. Things happen. Trust me, I get it," I reassured her.
"No! You only turn 21 once! I have to make it up to you," she said, and I watched her think about how she wanted to do that. "Let's grab lunch. When do you get off?"
"Noon."
"Perfect! I'll be back to take you out. My treat, of course," she said as she turned around to head on to her next errand.
"See you then," I called after her with a small laugh. At least she tries to make up for it. Most people I know wouldn't have bothered even saying sorry.
"Oh. Let me get a doughnut while I'm here," she said as she turned around and looked through the glass. She pointed to one, and I rung her up. Then, she was on her way.
"Is that your girlfriend?" Mrs. Russo asked smugly after she was clear out the door. I giggled a bit; She had no clue. It's not that I didn't want to come out to her. It's just that I didn't have reason to. I knew she'd be fine with it because we had a gay couple come into the store once and she commented on how cute they were.
"No, ma'am. Just a close friend," I told her.
"She's pretty. I'm just saying...," she teased and poked my side.
~
Charlotte and I found a small cafe to have lunch. We sat at a table by the window so we had a view.
"So how was last night? Did you go out and get sloppy drunk?" Charlotte asked, sipping a mimosa.
"No. I only had a few drinks, thank you very much. I went to this gay bar," I told her, sipping my own. She smiled wide as if I had just told her a dirty secret.
"Scandalous! What would your family say?" She said, pretending to be shocked.
"Oh, who cares? I had fun. Nothing too exciting happened though," I lied.
"You mean you didn't meet a stranger and have mind-blowing, life-changing sex?" She asked dramatically. "I'm disappointed."
"Wouldn't you like to know," I shot back.
"You are a cute little button. I'm sure you were a hit," she said with a wink and booped my nose.
"You've no idea," I said, recalling the previous night's events.
"Do elaborate," she pried, and I sighed.
"Long story short; I met someone," I admitted. She gasped and clutched her chest.
"Tell me everything!" She demanded.
"His name's Jackson. We went to this cookie place, and then he walked me home. That's it."
"Tell me you got his number!"
"Yeah..."
"Text him right now. Ask this boy out on a date before he gets away! Going on a cookie date the night you meet? It's so friggin' cute!"
"Okay," I said. Honestly, I was planning on texting him later to see if he wanted to hang out again, but since she was pushing me, I guess I'd do it then.
'Hey, how's it going?' I sent to him. I set my phone down and started smiling.
"What're you guys gonna do?"
