Pieces of Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

the counter and out of customer’s line of sight are all of the drinks and their recipes. Right there, plainly visible to anyone behind the bar.
              I smack him in the arm.
              “Why did you make me think I had to memorize them today!”
              “Because it was funny.” He laughs, obviously quite amused at his little joke.
              “I was really stressing out! That wasn’t very nice!”
              “I never claimed I was nice,” he points out.
              “No, I guess you didn’t.”
              “So anyway, here’s the reference guide for the drink orders. Let me show you how to work the machine and then you can make us some coffee. I’ll order something other than black to truly test your newfound skills.”
              “You drink it black?” I scrunch up my nose in disgust thinking about him smelling like an old man.
              “Yeah. Anything else tastes like sugar with a side of coffee.”
              “You do realize this is a coffee shop, right?”
              “I am aware.”
              “You’re sorta supposed to order something fun. It’s like, the rules.”
              “Maybe I’m not much for following the rules.”
              “Well, aren't you a rebel.” I roll my eyes at him then add, “You don’t think it’s weird that you don’t drink the product?”
              “Well, technically I do. I just drink it in its simplest form.” He shrugs. “Besides as long as I know how to make the sugary drinks, it shouldn’t matter whether I drink them myself, right?”
              “Yeah, I guess.”
              He proceeds to show me how to work the machine and then has me make him a Turtle-something or other coffee. He didn’t spit it back out so I’m guessing I made it correctly.
              At the end of the shift I hung my apron up on the hook and grabbed my belongings from my newly designated six-inch space on one of the shelves in the back room. Thank God it was the bottom one. There's no way I could possibly reach the ones on the row above mine. I reach into my purse to check my phone and notice I have a couple of text messages.
              The first one's from Olivia.
     
    Olivia: Still on for Saturday?
     
                  The next one's from my mom.
     
                                Mom: Just checking on you. Call me when                                                         you can.
                  I text Olivia back saying yes and then shove my phone back in my purse without responding to my mom. I'll call her back later, I tell myself, but I know that I won't. Because it doesn't matter what we talk about, the conversation always somehow leads back to Sean which ultimately makes me cry. And I don’t want to cry any more.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 5
     
     
    Judging from her neatly made bed and color-coordinated closet, you would never know how dirty Olivia’s room really is. However, from my current position I can see that there are old socks, wadded up pieces of notebook paper, old pens missing caps, random earrings, and more hairballs than I could imagine possible hiding underneath her furniture. She somehow managed to get a dorm room all to herself which is probably a good thing since there isn’t any room for a roommate anyway.
                  It makes me wonder what life would have been like had I started college when I was supposed to instead of a year late. Sean and I had talked about getting a place together but my parents insisted that I needed to live in the dorms for at least a year to get the “real” college