Love at First Stoplight

Cami

My eyes fluttered open at the tingling sensations around my neck. As my vision started clearing up, I noticed the familiar mop of dark hair on the crook of my neck peppering kisses all throughout my collarbone.

I couldn’t help but release a breathy moan at the tingly feelings his kisses were bringing. I ran my hands through his silky hair and urged him to continue.

“Wake up,” he said in a robotic voice. My brows scrunched up in utter confusion until he said it again in that voice.

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.” What the actual f—

“CAMI!!! Your alarm’s been ringing off non-stop!” Hugh shouted, which made me immediately wake up, throwing my fluffy pillow in the process. It was a dream.

I reached for my phone and shut off the robotic voiced alarm just in time for Hugh to burst inside my room with nothing but a robe on and his boxers. “I swear, I’m going to smash that phone if you don’t change your alarm tone. I don’t get why you have to set the alarm every five damn minutes.”

I rolled my eyes at him, not in the mood for his early morning dramas. “But of course, your wish is my command, your royal highness,” I retorted, sarcasm dripping off. I was not a morning person.

“I forgot you’re such a bitch in the morning. But still, my best friend, so get your ass showered because I made breakfast,” he said as he went out of the room. “I know I know. You still love me anyway!!!” I shouted back.

Looking at the clock beside my bed, I noted that I have at least an hour and a half to get ready for my interview. I slipped out of bed and folded the sheets as best as I could. Entering the bathroom, the coldness of the tiles instantly greeted my feet and at times like these, I wished we had heated bathroom floors.

I quickly stripped off my clothes and threw them in the basket. Hopping in the shower, I turned the knob to the highest setting and let the heat eradicate the shivers. After all my bathroom routines were done, I opened my cabinet searching for the business wears that I knew were hidden deep inside.

After finally finding two, I took both of the outfits out of their clear plastic bags, and placed them neatly on the bed. I had two choices, a fitted floral dress that coincidentally, Chad bought me, or the high-waisted navy-blue pencil cut paired with a white flowy top.

The choice was obviously clear. I chose the skirt rather than the dress since I clearly didn’t want this day to be tainted by anything ‘Chad’. And if you ask me why I haven’t thrown that dress yet, well, I’m a girl, and that dress still made my butt look good.

After properly tucking up the top, I zipped up the back of my skirt and headed towards my vanity table. I opted for the natural look as always, just a dash of mascara and some light red lipstick. Since the cold was enough to bring color to my cheeks, I didn’t bother using the blusher.

Putting on my ever-faithful brown leather watch which I had ever since college, my eyes widened at how time flew by so fast. And as if on cue, Hugh was already shouting at me to get down before I get late.

Grabbing my satchel and the three-inch heels on my shoe rack, I made my way downstairs to find Hugh sipping his coffee and scrolling through Pinterest so early in the morning. It was like the newspaper for him and I didn’t know whether to react or not because let’s face it, I also do it sometimes.

“What took you so long?”

“Lost track of time,” I replied and Hugh only nodded as if remembering I was always like that. I looked down at the breakfast Hugh ‘prepared’ because just as he remembered I always lost track of time, I too, just remembered what his definition of ‘preparing breakfast’ was.

“I see you have prepared ‘breakfast’ Hugh,” I said, eyeing the empty bowl with a spoon, and the box of fruit loops, and of course, the carton of milk. “Just eat whatever’s on the table, Cami. You’ll really be late if you don’t leave in like...” he swiveled his chair and looked at the wall clock behind him. “Five minutes.”

“Oh shoot.” I immediately grabbed the box of cereal and filled my bowl and then added the milk. I scarfed it down as carefully as I could, remembering I had a white top on.

After eating in a record time of three minutes, I then gargled with mouthwash, threw on my heels, and wore my coat simultaneously. And just imagine what a sight I was. “I’m off Hugh! Wish me luck!” I said as I scrambled out the house. I heard Hugh’s faint reply and I quickly whistled off as a cab arrived in front of me.

The old driver smiled warmly at me and asked where my destination was. “Café de Fabiola please,” I said and he nodded in response.

I slumped down on my seat a little and opened my satchel to check if I didn’t leave anything behind. Satisfied that I didn’t, I redirected my view at the blurry buildings we were passing by. The ride was fairly short and before I knew it, the cab had already stopped in front of the cafe. I paid the driver and got off, standing in front of the two-story building.

It was indeed elegant. It held sophistication even though the place was fairly small. There were exactly two tables in front of the cafe with its signature striped umbrellas and fancy chairs and table.

I glanced at my watch and noted I had at least seven minutes before the interview. Just thinking about it made me anxious and the cold wasn’t helping. I entered the building and a waitress at the podium smiled at me welcomingly.

“Good morning, Miss, do you have a reservation?” She asked. “Um, no, but I do have an interview scheduled this morning?” At my answer, the waitress’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Oh my gosh! You must be our new chef!” She whisper-yelled. “I hope so,” I smiled unsurely. I didn’t want to jinx anything or get ahead of myself. I know it’s about 95% sure, but I still needed to nail this final interview.

“I’m Aya by the way, one of the servers here,” she said offering her hand. “Cami,” I said as I took her hand in a firm shake. “So... where am I supposed to go?” I asked, afraid I might get late if I get sidetracked again.

“Oh right, of course. Follow me,” she guided me towards the back of the cafe and knocked on a door. A frail voice answered and Aya went in signaling me to wait outside.

I heard their muffled voices but I didn’t really pay that much attention to it. I didn’t want to be labeled as someone who eavesdrops. The door opened revealing Aya and she had this unsure look on her face which did nothing to appease my growing anxiety.

“Come in,” she said pointing to the door. I only nodded my head in response and entered the small office and an old lady on a big brown swivel chair whose face held no emotion whatsoever. Her hair was all white and short. And from the looks of it, small in height as well. And when I finally got a hold of myself, I realized that the Esme Fabiola, the owner herself was the one who’s going to interview me. ~Oh my God.~

“Good morning, Ma’am,” I greeted politely and stood in front of her desk, chastising myself to stop my body from moving because the jitters were coming in strong. “Take a seat dear, I don’t bite,” she said pointing to the chair.

I nodded my head and sat on one of the chairs. I waited for her to ask something but she merely observed me from head to toe. It was quite unnerving. I felt like I was applying to be cast on a runway than as a pastry chef. I intertwined my hands together and placed them on my lap so that I don’t fidget.

“Show me your hands,” she finally said. “Uh…” Did I hear her correctly? “Yes dear, you heard me right. Now, ~hands~.”

I hurriedly unclasped my hands and brought them to her table. I don’t know whether to laugh or stare stupidly because I didn’t know what situation I was in right now. After observing my hands, she let them go and stared at me.

“Before you ask anything, I’m not here to tell your fortune. My great grandmother taught me how to see a great baker just by their hands. Like how a ballerina instructor knows what kind of body types are built for ballet, I too know, whose hands are capable of true baking.”

“Oh…” I absorbed every word she said and I was starting to lose faith that I won’t get the job. Even though I performed well enough at school, I wasn’t the best, not the top of my batch nor did I win any contests.

“You’re hired,” she smiled. “I understand. Thank you for yo—” I said, starting to get up. But then her words registered. “I’m hired?” I asked wide-eyed.

“Yes, you are. Are you questioning my eyes young lady?” She asked playfully smirking at me. “No Ma’am!” I hurriedly said. The last thing I want was offending my baking hero. She smiled warmly at me and just like that, the emotionless old lady I met a while ago was replaced by a charming, welcoming old lady.

“Just call me Esme dear, everyone does so. And I apologize if you had to endure the cold treatment. It’s part of the initiation thing we do here.” “I didn’t mind at all Ma’am, I mean Esme.”

“Okay, as for schedules, you’ll be working Mondays, Wednesdays to Saturdays. And your off will be Tuesday and Sunday. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the staff,” she stood up and indeed, she was really small.

Since there wasn’t really much to tour on, we headed first towards the kitchen. And boy did my jaw drop. The kitchen was mixed with state-of-the-art equipment and on the other side was totally vintage.

I think I was in so much awe that Esme had already slipped past me. “That is Luke, our head chef,” Esme said pointing to a man. “Luke! Meet our new pastry chef.”

He had his back towards us but from the looks of it, he worked out. The guy was buff. Slapping the towel on his shoulder, he turned towards us and stood beside Esme.

Holy cow. As much as the guy looked hot from the back view, the front view was ~wow.~ I think I might have stared too long because the jerk just smirked. ~Snap out of it Cami! Just because you got dumped doesn’t mean you get to ogle at every hot guy you face!~

I’m positive I was already blushing, but I just avoided his teasing smirk like the socially awkward koala I was. I glanced at Esme waiting for further instructions, but she just pointed to Luke saying he’ll be in charge of me. And so, I glanced at Luke and then at Esme but I was totally sidetracked by the thing I noticed.

If you could just imagine the height difference, this Luke guy would be the middle finger of my hand and Esme was the thumb. That’s how big the height difference was. Believe me, I wasn’t that tall but these were the moments I wasn’t supposed to laugh. So instead, I clamped my mouth shut but still ended up with a small smile. I think I’m going to hell for finding humor at this.

“I know what you’re thinking young lady. Be glad I’m ‘cool a-f’ or whatever you kids say these days,” she said. “Luke, behave alright? I have an important meeting with someone so brief her on all the things she has to know,” Esme explained as she made her way out.

As the swing doors came to a halt, a hand landed on my shoulder. “So dimples, what’s your name?”