wrapped around your finger | paige bueckers

Chapter 2

You wiped down the last table in the cafe, casting a quick glance at the clock. It was almost eight, five minutes to close. You quickly readjusted the chairs, eager to pack your things and leave. Usually you would have a co-worker closing with you, but the other called in sick at the last minute, and your manager deemed you competent enough to handle things yourself.

You loved working the closing shift, something about the quiet ambiance of the last hour helped you relax and unwind – God knows you need it. The comfortable silence was disrupted by the door jingling, and you stamped down the spike of annoyance at the late entry. Your eyes flickered to the clock, three minutes to close. Barely concealing a sigh, you turned around with your best customer service smile, which faltered at the sight of a familiar face.

Paige Bueckers was standing at the doorway, an apologetic smile on her face as she noticed the orderly state of the cafe.

"Sorry," Her voice filtered from across the cafe, "Bad time?"

You stumbled over your words, mind racing to catch up with the present moment. She wasn't a frequent customer, and by that, you meant she never comes while you are on shift. Believe me, you would've remembered. The campus celebrity now seemed so close and real – tangible – and under the warm glow of the cafe lights, your heart thumped.

"No, it's fine." You dusted your hands on your apron, speeding to your spot behind the counter, too aware of her eyes boring into you, "What can I get you?"

She stepped closer, eyes scanning the board above your head labeled with drink choices. You noticed the red flush on her cheeks and the light sheen on sweat covering her forehead. Had she just come out of practice?

"You can make me whatever's convenient." Her voice startled you, and you tore your eyes away from her, wondering how long you spent staring. "I feel kinda bad for coming in at closing time, you can just make me the easiest drink with caffeine in it."

You glanced at her again, and her warm smile lit a fire in your gut. You managed to find your tongue, "Cold or hot? Sweet or bitter?" Giving her a small smile, you joked. "Give me something to work with, please. I don't do well with freedom."

She chuckled, eyes twinkling, "Indecisive?"

"Very."

She pursed her lips, eyes flickering back to the board above you. "Shame. So am I." A beat passed. "Iced Vanilla Latte, please."

"Coming right up. Five-fifty, cash or card?"

"Card."

You went to work, routinely going through the steps to produce the desired drink. You never quite registered what you were doing, hands moving on their own accord. Your mind was too preoccupied with Paige lingering across the counter, eyes still trained on you. You could feel her gaze on your back, it was heavy, causing goosebumps to run down your arms.

You were brought back into the moment when your hands froze on top of the vanilla pump, and slight panic arose when you realized you had no idea how many pumps you had already put in the drink. Biting your lip, you rapidly pumped it two more times, hoping you didn't give Paige diabetes. Finishing up the drink, you slid the beverage across the counter, alerting Paige who looked up from her phone.

"Thanks."

"No problem," You muttered. The silence bordered on awkwardness as she fiddled with the straw, and you raced to find something to fill the silence with.

"So, why are you having caffeine so late?"

She glanced up, the beginnings of a smile starting to grace her lips. She slipped the straw into her drink, "I'm tired." She grinned cheekily, "Why else?"

You couldn't tell if she was messing around with you, but the amused sparkle in her eye spoke otherwise.

"I meant–" You leaned on the counter with your elbows, " –it's late, why not just go home and sleep?"

"The girls want a movie night, I want to be awake for that." You hummed as Paige sipped her drink, eyes widening at the taste. She pulled back and regarded the drink, and you internally grimaced. You probably added too much vanilla – or too little, you couldn't tell. You opened your mouth to offer to make it again, when she turned to you with a grin so wide you choked on air.

"This–" She held the drink up, shaking it for emphasis, " –is the best Iced Vanilla Latte I've ever had in my entire life. What'd you put in it?" Cause damn."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, and you fidgeted with the edge of your apron as you let out an embarrassed laugh. "I may have accidentally added a few extra pumps of vanilla. I didn't count."

Paige was glowing as she continued sipping. "Good thing I have a sweet tooth, then." You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, however you couldn't bring yourself to care when she groaned, tipping her head back, "This is by far my favorite drink from this cafe. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

"You're a frequent customer?"

She nodded, "I don't usually come during the night, though."

"Yeah, I would have remembered if you did." Paige gave you a teasing look, and you quickly amended, "We don't get many customers at night."

She hummed, "I should swing by more often then."

You giggled, trying to disguise your excitement at that statement, eager to see her more. Your eyes drifted to the clock. It was now five past eight, although you found that you didn't mind her overstaying her welcome.

She must've noticed the time, because she tipped her head in your direction, adorning the same apologetic smile she gave you upon entry, "Alright, I'll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the drink."

You smothered your disappointment, deciding to ignore why you were disappointed in the first place. "You're welcome. Do come again."

She took a couple steps back and winked, "Oh, trust me. I will."

And well, if that wink replayed in your head all night, no one knew but you.