❝𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨. 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.❞
❦
"What are you doing in my fridge?"
I immediately grabbed my knife strapped to my thigh and pointed it at the person behind me's throat.
"Seriously?" I whispered.
He wasn't even fazed by...
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After taking a shower I walked into my bedroom and got dressed into my uniform which consisted of a black crew neck, some black high waisted skinny jeans and suprise, my black sneakers.
I pulled my medium length, wavy brown hair into a ponytail.
I rushed down the stairs and heard my father's voice but completely ignored it, heading for the door.
"I'm gonna be late for my shift! Love you. Bye!"
And with that I left, throwing on my black, cropped bomber jacket I locked the door behind me and quickly treaded down the three steps. The cool, morning air hits my skin smoothly.
The cafe was only ten minutes away so I decided not to take a cab and just use this as and excuse to get some cardio in.
With my hands in my pockets of my jacket I looked around at the busy streets of New York City.
Even at six in the morning the city was alive.
As I looked forward the memory of last night crept into my head and a shiver ran down my spine. I looked back, feeling paranoid. I increased my pace just a little and before I knew it I was outside of the cafe.
I smiled as I saw Jordan at the register.
I'm always the first one at the cafe but on nights that I get home late Jordan let's me know that I can sleep in for an extra hour and he'll open the cafe.
Jordan is the only person in my life - other than the people at the club of course - that knows about my other job. He never judged me, instead asked if I needed a bodyguard or something which was very funny to me.
On nights when I finished after twelve in the morning he'd be waiting to pick me up.
Jordan is 6'2 - or 6'3 like he always likes arguing with me - and muscle. He use to play basketball until he got injured and couldn't play anymore.
He's filthy rich but claims that if he didn't get a job - any job - he'd go crazy.
"What are you doing here?" he asks as I walk up to the register.
"I felt bad okay," I say leaning my forearms onto the counter top. "I can't let you do this anymore. It's not fair to you, plus I-" he cuts me off by pressing the bottom of a cup to my lips.
"Yes, you can," he says and I chuckle, lightly hitting the cup away from my mouth. "And it's really no use fighting me on this."
He's right.
He'll end up doing what he wants anyway.
"And since you suck at following orders you get to enjoy a coffee until 7, which was when you were supposed to be here."
"Yeah right," I laugh taking my jacket off as I walk to the back.
I grabbed my brown waist apron and tightly tied it behind my back.
