Ch. 2: You Again
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Hands touch
Eyes meet
Sudden silence
Sudden heat
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Here's what a normal hormone-crazed female Starbucks barista would say when she laid her heaven-blessed eyes on six feet of human hotness.
"What the Hell are you doing here?"
Not fucking that. Well, Marinette wasn't a normal hormone-crazed female anymore anyway, so her reaction is valid.
The blonde blinked in partial shock and surprise, and his gorgeous, green olive orbs in which any girl could easily lose herself in vanished underneath his eyelids for a second.
"I'm just buying a vanilla latte like any other normal person would," he said, which sounded more like a confused question. Marinette found her own eyes fixating themselves on the boy before her. His golden hair was a bit longer and messier than she recalled, yet more stylish than before, too. If that even was possible. He was decked out in a more-than-fitting black Ralph Lauren polo which revealed his more defined muscles and pearl white designer jeans. Marinette, being a fashion expert, straightaway deemed the ensemble à la mode but at the same time a contradiction with the clashing colors. Just like him, Marinette thought bitterly to herself.
Realizing that customers might think she was checking him out (which she definitely wasn't), she forced her gaze onto the coffee cup where her and that boy's hands were touching, and she caught her breath. That warmth. It was all too . . . familiar.
She didn't like it.
Almost as fast as their hands touched, she clumsily retracted hers back in a heartbeat . . . but, of course, not without having the cup slip out of their grips and come crashing to the wooden floor with its delicious contents spilling everywhere. The heads of the customers lounging in their chairs, the people waiting in line, and everyone else turned to stare at the spectacle.
Marinette kicked into gear, grabbing some paper towels from the countertop and sprinting over to the other side.
"Ugh, I'm such a klutz," she muttered in utter embarrassment, leaning down to clean the huge mess she made. Marinette couldn't believe this. What was he doing here? Why was he back? And why in Mona Lisa's name did it have to be her on cup duty at this blessed moment in time? Endless questions flooded her mind as she angrily scrubbed at the floor, as if she was trying to eliminate the spill like her worries and inner torment.
The golden-haired boy just smirked and bent down to her level, clearly unfazed by the fact that his vanilla latte was splattered all over his expensive-looking Louis Vuittons. He graciously nabbed a towel from Marinette and helped wipe some of the remaining liquid up. Marinette could hear him chuckle amongst the loud chatter of the customers.
"Looks like you haven't changed a bit, Mari."
The barista froze. She went silent for a bit as if God Himself had reached down her throat and stole her breath momentarily, raised her head slowly, and pointedly stared at him with an unreadable look on her face.
After what seemed like half a minute, Adrien opened his mouth as if to say something before Marinette had a complete change of face. She flashed him a blinding smile. "I guess not, huh?"
She propped herself up on one knee then stood up, collecting the wet towels and patting her apron down. Oh, you have no idea. If only you knew . . .
"Enjoy your meal," she said, like an automated answering machine. Blowing a stray hair out of her face, Marinette began to storm out to the back room without looking back when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist. The warmth resurfaced from within her chest.
"Mari–"
"Stop," she cautioned, with a shaky breath. She didn't know whom she was talking to: "Adrien or that abnormal feeling in her bosom.
"Why are you–"
"Just leave me alone!" she whisper-yelled, yanking her wrist from his hold.
The airhead apparently couldn't tell that she was being dead serious because he seized her upper arm and held her back.
Marinette couldn't breathe.
And his grip wasn't too tight or anything like that. "C'mon, m'lady, we haven't seen each other in nearly two years, and this is how you greet me?"
No.
"Didn't you miss me?"
No, I didn't.
"I missed you."
You're a liar. Shut up.
"Marinette?"
Irritated, the girl whirled around in anger and nearly screeched, "What?" when the boy pulled her into a tight hug.
So, Marinette did the only thing she knew to do in these types of situations and gracefully brought up her knee up to say a very friendly hello to his doo-dahs.
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"Mari, I'm very disappointed in you."
"But–"
"But no," Marinette's boss said, tapping his fingers on the top of his mahogany desk in front of her. "Starbucks employees are to treat customers with the utmost respect at all times."
Marinette stood up abruptly, her chair knocking backwards. "Max, did you even see what he did to me? He practically raped me!"
The brunette pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, chuckling in spite of his dissatisfaction. "I'd hardly call "hugging" rape, Mari."
He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm going to let you off with a warning. Strike two, and you're out. If it were anyone else, I'd have them out the door in a heartbeat. Because if customers see this type of behavior from our employees, we'd earn a very poor reputation, now wouldn't we?"
Marinette nodded reluctantly.
"But, it's also because I know you've worked really hard with your fashion business and other jobs and whatnot. I appreciate that."
"Thanks, boss," she breathed out in relief.
Max smiled and turned back to his computer. Marinette made her way out of the office door to clock out of her shift, rolling her eyes with a chuckle at hearing her boss button-mashing his video game controller to Ultimate Mecha Strike III.
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Marinette subconsciously reached her fingers up to her right ear and absentmindedly fiddled with her ruby red and black polka dotted earring. With a tired sigh, she unlocked the door to her apartment and kicked off her salmon-colored espadrilles. After getting ready for bed, Marinette wiped off her makeup and peered at the mirror to see a worn-out girl with dark circles under her eyes and a drained expression on her face.
Mon dieu, she internally groaned, I look like the most exhausted girl in all of Paris.
Marinette slipped into her coral-colored pajamas and plopped onto her mattress, which felt like lamb's wool and marshmallows mixed with cotton candy clouds.
"Today was another day; tomorrow is today's backup plan," Marinette repeated off the colorful sign on her door before reaching over to turn off her lamp. She lied back on her on her sheets and nestled her hair into her fluffy pillow, gazing at her ceiling. It was a scope of ebony blacks and lavender purples and midnight blues dotted with carefully-painted stars of various, vivid dyes of white and yellow. She had painted the aesthetic mural on her ceiling around two years ago with Adrien when they were still–
Marinette frowned. She swore to herself that she would never think of the memory again. Adrien's return had boggled her mind, and the confused girl kept wondering why he came back. And after all time? Come to think of it, didn't he say that he . . . ?
No. She couldn't question herself about him anymore. Her hands were already full enough with her two jobs and her fashion business.
"Great, I can't sleep now. Am I some sort of insomniac?" Marinette rubbed her eyes sleepily and sat in her chair, switching on her Mac to check if her contact had emailed her back concerning a jacket collaboration.
Nada.
The aspiring fashion designer sighed, wondering if her hard work would ever pay off. Maybe she should quit while she's ahead and aim to just live normally and with no worries weighing on her shoulders.
Blip!
Marinette curiously clicked on a blinking yellow tab and smiled.
Kit_Kat: Hey, are you on?^^
Maybe today wasn't too bad after all. Marinette forgot all about her stress and fears and click-clacked on her keyboard, her energy rejuvenated.
LadyLuck777: What's the sitch?
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hiya! Sorry for the late update . . . I really meant to update earlier, but you know . . . life. I hope you enjoyed it, though! Yes, I referenced Wicked, and yes, I referenced the episode Animan with the "enjoy your meal", and I plead guilty for the Kim Possible reference as well. I tried to make it longer this time, but to be honest with you, I'm going headfirst into this ish. I kind of have a plot (beginning, middle, and end points), but if you guys have any suggestions for anything, feel free to tell me in the review section! Ja ne~!