You glance at the clock on the wall.

9:30 PM.

A little more.. just a little more, you reassure yourself.

The café around you is empty, the only sound you hear is the ticking of the clock but, somehow time seems to be mocking you by remaining immobile.

Hands on your hips, your hawk-like eyes scan around for something to do but the café looks spotless. The chairs pushed into place, table tops cleaned and sparkling, empty coffee cups thrown away, floor swept.. everything is done.

Your nostrils fill up with the warm smell of coffee as you inhale a deeply, exhaling you flop down, onto your tiny chair behind the counter, and settle your chin on your propped up elbows. Gazing into the distance your surrounding blurs as you zone out and don't hear the bell ringing overhead which signals the arrival of a customer.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you back to reality. You spring up as if pricked by a sharp needle and stare right into the face of a man.

Am I still dreaming..?

The man before you is slender and clad in black from head to toe. He has on a leather jacket and ripped jeans, that show off his perfectly toned thighs, while a belt encircles his small waist. The aura surrounding him is one of mystery. Your heart skips a beat and you can't make yourself look away. A black mask covers most of his facial features except for his eyes which are staring back at you with a mixture of annoyance and boredom.

You gulp and smile politely, hoping that your face didn't give away any of your inner thoughts.

"Your boss doesn't mind you slacking off at work like this?" He inquires in an arrogant drawl, eyebrows raised. You struggle to ignore his deep masculine voice and concentrate on what the voice is saying instead.

Bowing low you apologize several times.

"Whatever." He mutters rolling his eyes. And the initial impression you had of him begins to waver.

"Get me an Iced Americano. Soon!" He commands looking down at his phone as if you weren't worth looking at.

"Coming right up, Sir. I'll inform you when your order is ready so that-" Even before you can complete your utterance the man turns around and moves to a table at the far end of the café.

"So that you can collect your order..." Your voice trails off into the silence of the surrounding.

You keep glancing at him unable to understand why he intrigues you. In the process, you manage to drop spoons, cups and even a little bit of coffee. Well, at least now you have work to do that'll help you kill time...

TIME! WHAT'S THE TIME?

9:50!

You secretly hope that he leaves in the next 10 minutes so that you could go back home to the comfort of your bed without having to wait any longer than you have to in this hell.

"Sir?" Your voice echoes in the almost empty room but doesn't seem loud enough to grab the attention of the only other occupant. "Sir! Your order is ready!" You try once more, louder this time... nothing again.

Giving up you blow a sigh and place his order on a tray.

"Here you-"

"What took you so long? Do you always slack off like this?" He snaps grabbing hold of the coffee cup. His forehead wrinkling in annoyance.

You feel your face heat up but shoving it against you mutter an apology before attempting to put as much distance between you two as possible.

"Wait!"

You draw in another deep breath and put on the fakest smile you can manage, mentally preparing yourself for more rude comments. Turning around now, somehow he doesn't look half as good looking anymore.. just annoying.

"Yes?"

"Haven't you ever learnt to apologize when you make a mistake? How rude... I thought it was your job to treat customers well."

You've had enough. "I'm sorry?" You ask in disbelief.

"That's more like it. Now get going.." he dismisses you with a wave of a hand.

Red in the face and balling up your fists you trudge back to the safety of the back of the counter. Glancing up at the clock your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

10:10!

Why isn't this git leaving?

Finally, having decided to give him a few more minutes before you kick him out you get to cleaning up the mess previously created.

In the far corner, you can see him on his phone, the light from the screen illuminating his face. You have a mental battle with yourself trying to convince that brain of yours to stop gawking but it's a losing battle. You watch as he runs a hand through his hair that immediately falls back onto his forehead like a curtain of silk.

He's got to go!

You stand beside him, confused as to how to make "Get out!" sound polite. But he doesn't look up. Now it's your turn to clear your throat.

"What?" his tone emanates annoyance, which manages to anger you.

That's it! He doesn't deserve any more politeness.

"You need to get out! It's past closing time and I've been too tolerant." For effect, you point at the clock that reads 10:45.

He sighs, finally looking up at you... those eyes. Seeing the expression of pure annoyance on your face he smirks.

The sudden change of expression completely transforms him and makes him more.. more handsome, if that's even possible. You secretly chastise yourself for having such thoughts.

Now's not the time to be swooning, Y/N.

"Hmmm.. but I'm in no hurry." He says nonchalantly, sinking deeper into his seat and resting his hands behind his head.

"Excuse me?" You spit out each word with as much hatred as you can muster.

"I am not leaving."

What happens next takes place in what seems like a split second. You don't move on your own accord but as if you were possessed by.. anger. Grabbing hold of the cup of Iced Americano, which is still half full, you take off the lid and empty the contents onto his head. The shock of the cold liquid coming into contact with skin causes him to gasp and quickly spring up from his seat, back arched.

You feel a wave of satisfaction wash over you and smile at the man before you jumping around trying to get rid of ice cubes that made their way into his shirt.

"Well... now I guess you'll have to get home to change out of this mess. You know where the door is, the same way you got in. Thank you so much for coming!" Your sarcastic tone makes your true feelings too obvious.

"You!" He points a threatening finger at you. "You won't get away with this!" He roughly wipes away drops of coffee dripping from the end of his hair and into his eyes.

As the glass doors swing closed after him, you slump onto a chair, the feeling of dread budding in the pit of your stomach.

Oh no! What have I done?

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Tip: Don't be a jerk to people handling your food or drinks.... Actually, as a rule of thumb: don't be a jerk to anyone. Lol. =P