PART 1
Chapter 1
Second semester always rubbed me the wrong way. I suppose that's because I've always been a big fan of school and never really wanted summer to roll around. Second semester marked the nearness of summer. Like riding a roller coaster, a certain sense of nostalgia and impeding sadness hits you as you tip over the top of the highest hill, and you just start thinking about starting the anticipatory ascent all over again.
I specifically remember thinking about this as I walked to work that morning. It was really quite warm for January in Ohio, and I wondered if the temperature would remain that way long enough to allow us one last weekend to bar hop without our coats. Not that we'd wear much besides a jean jacket anyways; in traditional Midwestern fashion, we'd simply pre-game until we felt a beer blanket setting in, and then walk with purpose from bar-to-bar.
The trek from my house to the coffee shop wasn't long enough to allow my brain to finish that thought. I stepped into The Grind, thanking the boy in front of me for holding the door open behind him. I specifically remember being quite grateful to see plenty of familiar faces on the shift; you see, this was only my second semester working at The Grind, and because we all kept the same shifts every week, I'd only ever met the few folks who overlapped with my Tuesday and Thursday closing shifts in some way. Maybe 20 feet in front of the door stood the convenience store counter, where students could use their meal plan to buy insanely overpriced pre-packaged snacks. Given the nature of college students, the convenience store was next to empty for the majority of the week and then comically crowded on Saturday, right before the meal plans reset. The rows of cookies, chips, frozen meals, and Pepsi products were lined up beautifully behind the counter, and I gave a little wave to the familiar-looking girl working the convenience store. I made a mental note to check the schedule and greet her by name later. A dozen tables were arranged nicely to my right, each one able to seat four students but all somehow only a quarter full. College students don't particularly like being social while studying.
The Grind was to my left. A constant stream of students was rolling through, very few of which had allowed themselves enough time to actually sit and enjoy their drinks and bagels before they had to get to class. It was starting to get chaotic, but it looked exciting and comforting to me. I knew that starting work as a barista during my freshman year of college might not be a super popular choice, but it was my main source of friends and advice at the time. The employees were all pretty close. Looking back, I think we were the most realistic group of student employees; we knew that an on-campus job would work around classes and extra-curriculars and that we'd have normal university vacations, but we also knew that working for dining services was a surefire way to get a few free meals a week. Those of us that were lucky enough to work at The Grind also knew that a coffee shop lacked one of the most feared service industry positions of all: dishwashing. Plus, access to free coffee meant saving our dining cash for later.
I walked past the convenience store counter, turned left, and went back into the employee area. As you start to walk in, you get a glance right down the line of sinks, espresso machines, coffee grinders, teapots, and cash registers that made up our work area. He caught my eye in that split second.
I walked back to the trash room, hung up my coat, and racked my brain to recall if I knew him already. No, no way. I'd remember him. I'd sure as hell remember that hair.
I swiped in, waved to the Jaime, the adult employee that ran The Grind, and composed myself. I looked relatively cute today. My jeans could have been cleaner, but the hems had that cute raw, washed edge to them. They hit about a half-inch above my high-top Converse, whose laces were wrapped around the back of my ankle and tied nimbly in the front. I stopped in front of the clock-in station and found the name of the familiar convenience store cashier—Celine. I stuck my head back out to her and asked, "How was your break, Celine?" She gave me a genuine smile and we talked for a minute before I turned to go.
I felt like a superhero walking in, mostly because of the very nature of the 8 AM shift. We came in halfway through the first rush, serving as a little reminder to the 6 AM shift that they wouldn't be able to get through the next few hours without us. My manager, Riley, who was actually the manager of my Tuesday/Thursday closing shifts last semester, smiled, hugged me, and sent me over to cash register. I smirked to myself, knowing that that only the best got sent to register during a rush.
He was all over. It looked like he was new, maybe being given a tour? I glanced at him between most customers, but I made it as inconspicuous as possible. To be fair, the cashiers have to move around more than you might think. You pour the drip coffee, you grab the teas, you serve the muffins; plenty of opportunity to organically move my head and look at him. After the 8 AM rush had calmed down but before the 8:45 AM rush set in, Riley approached me with the boy in tow. I had been so focused on him that I didn't even notice that there was a second boy as well.
"Dot, this is Dalton and Austin. This is their first day of work, so I thought they could watch you at the register. Maybe you can show them the system when it's slow?"
"Yeah, I can do that. Can I make them help?" I asked Riley, only half joking.
She laughed, clearly enjoying the dynamic of two women bossing around two men. "Yes, be my guest. I'll be on overview if you need me." She gave a little nod and walked back to the default manager position at the end of the counter.
I gave myself a pep talk in the seconds it took to reciprocate the nod to Riley and shift my weight back to the boys.
Don't be awkward, they are just boys. You know more than them
.
"Hi, I'm Dot. But, um, Riley just said that. Umm, yeah, so it'll get busy here pretty soon but until then, you can play around on this register. I think practice is the only way to learn."
They smiled and nodded as I turned on the second register for them. I tried to fill in the silence.
"I'm sorry, remind me of your names one more time?" I asked.
"Dalton." Responded one. He wasn't the one that had caught my eye earlier, but he seemed nice enough.
"I'm Austin." Said the other. I'd been waiting to hear his voice. It was exactly what I expected. You can tell a lot of things from a voice; what a person thinks of themselves, how outgoing they may be, how comfortable they are in the current situation. Austin's voice told me that he was confident, much more outgoing than me, and clearly, more comfortable as well.
"Dalton, Austin. Ha, that kind of rhymes, a little. I'm Dot."
You already said that, dumbass. And it's on your goddamn name tag.
"What year are you?" I asked to no one in particular. They answered in reverse order this time, and I took that as a sign that Austin wasn't as put off by my repetitiveness as I was.
"Sophomore." He said. Dalton chimed in, "junior."
I thought maybe one-word answers would be all I got, until Austin spoke again. "What about you, Dot?"
"I'm a sophomore, too. I've been here since freshman year; I really like it. The rushes might seem a little overwhelming, but I promise they aren't that bad."
"Good to know, thanks." Austin said.
"Anytime. What are your majors?" I asked. We had to get through the obligatory introduction questions, obviously.
