After Hours

JUNE’S POV

By the time school ended, I was already late.

Being a girlfriend didn’t change the fact that I had a shift at five. 

At least today was Friday but I know the weekend will be over in the blink of an eye.

I walked into Amber Cup at 5:15pm.

The café smelled like coffee beans, sugar and baked bread. The warm atmosphere wrapped around me like a hug, softening the air around me. 

Cozy and comfortable. 

Warm lights cast a soft glow from the ceiling to make everything feel gentle and pleasant. Even the world feels quieter once you enter the café.

I started working here a little over a year ago and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Good people and good pay.

“Stop daydreaming and get changed before Mr Thompson sees you.” Maya called me over and quickly handed me an apron.

Usually, I kept extra clothes in my bag on the days I went to work right after school hours. 

I tied my apron tighter, tied my hair to a bun and stepped behind the counter.

The bell chimed and a customer walked in.

“Late today,” Mr Bennett murmured, looking up from his newspaper.

“By a few minutes, how are your grandchildren?” I asked.

“A few minutes is still late. They’re alright.”

“A flat white please, and a banana bread.” He requested. The simple, smooth drink. Most people preferred it.

“The usual.” I responded with a smile.

Mr Bennett was one of the regulars. He came in the morning and in the evenings. 

I passed the note to Maya and waited for her to make the drink. 

Rain soon started drizzling. Matched with the soft music, it felt like a movie scene.

“How was school?” Maya asked as she made a latte.

“It was okay. How is the application going?” 

Maya was 19 and a brilliant artist and barista.

“It’s going I guess. I’m still waiting for an email, or text, anything really.” 

“It’ll come. I know it will.” I reassured her. 

“An iced latte.”

“A hot chocolate.”

Order after order after order, the faces of customers blurred.

For some reason, people really wanted to have their coffee on a Friday evening.

We didn’t usually serve so much in the evenings. And definitely not on a Friday.

“Can you be quick?” A woman in corporate wear spoke.

“I’m trying.” 

Here, nobody cared about your grades or how impressive you were.

They cared about you whether you showed up. How efficient you were.

“I’ll be closing early, you girls can leave once you’re done. Oh and boys.” Mr Thompson said, that generated a collective laugh.

“Hallelujah.” I said to myself. A word I learnt from Jules over the years.

I slowly cleaned the counter, already exhausted.

This was my reality.

If I lost focus, I’d lose everything.

I finished cleaning the tables.

My phone buzzed softly in my pocket.

Unknown contact.

“Can you come to my football match tomorrow?”

I stared at the message for a second.

I already knew who it was.

The rain was still drizzling as I stepped out.

“June!” I heard my name and turned.

“Come on, I’ll drop you off.” Maya volunteered and handed me a cup of hot chocolate.

“This was very much needed. Thank you.” I said as I wore my seatbelt.

“I figured.” 

My phone buzzed again.

“Oh, my apologies. It’s Adrien but I think you already figured that out.”

Another notification.

“Unless you still go to James’?”

I rolled my eyes.

God forbid.

“Ouu, who are you texting? And I know it’s not Jules, it’s an unknown number.” Maya said as she drove.

“Are your eyes on the road?” 

“Definitely. Now spill.” She said excitedly.

“It’s nothing, just a guy from my class. Adrien Hayes, we’re sort of together.” I confided in her.

“Holy shit. You? With someone?” She turned to me, shock written all over her. “Wait, as in the Hayes family?” She asked.

“Yes. Don’t worry, just a fling.” I told her.

“Well, it is your last year. Enjoy yourself, I know you won’t get distracted.” She said before we settled into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you Maya.” I hugged her before leaving the car.

I stepped over the same broken tile near the entrance like I always did. 

Some things never change.

I walked in and found the house empty.

I saw a note on the table that read, “We are working late, there’s food in the kitchen. We’re with our keys, see you later baby.” 

Definitely mum’s handwriting. 

I quickly freshened up, put on my favorite yellow sleepwear and ate some food.

Today’s exhaustion felt different. That’s how all work days feel. 

I walked slowly towards the windows and closed them in case the rain poured in. I arranged mum and dad’s room just in case they were too tired to do it. 

I walked into my room and finally began organizing my bookshelf. 

I found an old picture of myself.

Seventh grade, at a competition. Jules was in the crowd and someone else caught my eye.

Brown hair, blue eyes, was that… Adrien?

“That’s odd.” 

How? What was he doing there?

I pondered for a bit before I put the photo in my bag.

I’d ask him about it on Monday.

I decided to study for a bit before my parents got back.

I saw my phone’s screen come on from a distance. 

I grabbed it and remembered I hadn’t replied to any of Adrien’s messages.

“Hi, I don’t think I’ll make it but if I can, I will.

And no, God forbid.”

He replied immediately.

“James will be there. It’s derby day and lots of people will be there.”

Hmm. 

Derby days are usually interesting to watch. Loud, chaotic and impossible to ignore. 

“What time is the match?”

I typed into my phone.

“4:30pm.”

I stared at the message. Searching through my schedule before responding.

“I’ll do my best.”

He responded.

“Okay, I’ll bring you my jersey to wear.”

I paused.

A jersey?

The thought of being in his jersey felt so serious.

It wasn’t casual or small.

Its WAG level. 

That was the kind of thing people noticed.

The kind that made everything look real.

“That’s not necessary” , I typed them paused.

I deleted it.

This is what I signed up for, right?

“That’s IF I make it.”

I exhaled slowly and turned off my phone.

I dropped it back on the table. This was normal among footballers with wives or girlfriends.

And to the rest of the world, I was his girlfriend.

That I couldn’t undo now. 

No turning back.