I Shouldn't Have | Bojan Cvjetićanin

3. #popstar

Neža's POV

He knew I worked here, or at least, he could've known. I had been working here since I first moved to the city the summer before I started university. The two of us sometimes went to grab coffee together here before we had scheduled a meeting to discuss an assignment. After he dropped out, he never returned to the coffee shop either. Coward.

"Než. I know you've been ignoring my calls. But please. I need to speak to you." I could feel the tightness in my chest when he shortened my name, as if nothing had happened and the two of us were still on good terms.

"Can I take your order?" I asked without looking up from the register. I tried not to show any emotions, and could only hope I did so successfully. I didn't want to deal with him anymore than the bare minimum I was required because of my job, it shouldn't be that hard to get that message across. 

"Fucking hell, Než, it's been two years. Just hear me out." Bojan said, making me look up when he started cursing. His expression, his entire stance, everything showed me how agitated he was getting. And I was greatly enjoying it. The more annoyed he was, the happier it made me. Guess that's what happens when you screw someone over. 

"Sir, if you don't order anything we're gonna have to ask you to leave." I said calmly, hearing him sigh in return. I really hoped that acting cold towards him would make him leave, but almost instantly I heard him speak again. 

"Fine. Just give me a large macchiato." Bojan murmured.

"What name can I put on the order?" I was petty enough to pretend not to know his name, although the both of us knew I definitely hadn't forgotten. Still, it was standard practice to ask for a customer's name. I was just following store policy. 

"You know my name." He replied with a stiff smile, getting more annoyed with the minute. I showed him an overly fake smile in return which I mastered during the years I worked in hospitality although I'd rather gag upon seeing his face again. 

"Will you talk to me now?" He asked after he finished paying for the drink and I had told him to wait for his drink at the other end of the counter. Meanwhile a line had formed behind him, so instead of reacting to him, I continued to help the next customer in line. "Neža, you can't keep ignoring me."

I shot him a glare, feeling my blood boiling inside me, and finished ringing up the next customer before quickly asking one of my coworkers to step in for me behind the counter. I stepped away from the counter and pulled Bojan along to one of the tables so as not to disturb the other customers. When he opened his mouth to speak, I quickly raised my hand to stop him from talking. "No. I talk. You listen." I said sternly. "How dare you set foot here, Bojan? Wasn't I clear enough when I declined all twenty or so of your calls? Or when I had to block your number? You literally now have to harass me at work as well? On top of the shit you pulled already you're now trying to get me fired as well?" I said, trying my best to keep my voice at a calm level, but the anger inside of me made it hard not to raise my voice.

"Is he harassing you?" A woman in her mid to late thirties interrupted our conversation. "Do I need to call the police?"

Bojan and I exchanged a quick look, both of them made it absolutely clear that each of us blamed the other for the situation. "No need to ma'am. I can handle him," I said and showed the lady a polite smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bojan huffed in frustration. Of course his ego would be affected by that statement. Bojan liked to act all tough, but over the last two years I seriously doubted if that was actually the case. 

"What does it matter? You can't come barging in here and demand to talk to me after two years while I'm working. You're not the only person in the world, Bojan."

"You didn't leave me much of a choice did you? What else was I supposed to do?"

"Ignore me like you have the last two years."

"Než, for fuck's sake just hear me out."

"Are you fucking blind?" I whispered through gritted teeth. "I'm at work. You can't come barging in here and demand to speak to me. Especially not when there's a line of people waiting to be helped as well. Just take your coffee and leave." I said and turned around to head back to my spot behind the counter, when I felt him stopping me by grabbing my wrist. "If you don't let me go right now I will phone the police myself about you harassing me. Everyone here is gonna agree with me and the times you tried to call me are sure to get you in at least some sort of trouble." Bojan quickly let go of my wrist. "Thought so." I hummed triumphantly

"I'll wait here until you get off." Bojan insisted as he sat down at one of the tables, wearing an all too smug grin on his face like I couldn't stop him from sitting there.

I groaned and shook my head. "You're leaving. Right now. I get off at 6. If you want to have any chance of having a conversation you don't come back until then."

"How do I know you're not lying and you're gonna leave beforehand?"

I couldn't deny I had considered lying about when I got off, but I didn't want him back here again tomorrow. "Fuck I don't know Bojan. Guess you'll have to trust me. Like I trusted someone to do their part of a group assignment. People can't be trusted sometimes. Come back at six and find out. But if you're not leaving the minute after your order is done I will not speak another word to you." I headed back behind the counter and stood behind the other coffee machine to help make everyone's drink.

"Do you know him?" My colleague whispered in my ear once I was back behind the counter. 

"Unfortunately I do." I sighed and rolled my eyes as I finished up another drink. "Caramel latte for Ana?" I called out, watching a blonde girl walk over to the counter to pick up her drink. Bojan was still waiting near the table I left him at, arms crossed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The Bojan I remembered from two years ago was nearly always smiling. I was kind of glad he wasn't. If I was miserable in his presence, he should be miserable in mine. 

"Isn't he from-." Of course she had to recognise him. I could tell from the way her eyes had been glued on Bojan from the moment he entered the shop.

"Yeah. Yeah he is." I sighed. There was another reason why it had been hard to ignore his existence. About half a year after we last saw each other in class when one of the songs of his band blew up in the country. Gola was played all over the country. From the radio to supermarkets. It was inescapable. Now the song wasn't bad per se, but when you're trying to not be pissed off at someone it definitely helped if you constantly heard them on the radio.

"A large americano for 'You know my name'?" I heard my colleague call out. Bojan shot me a glare before picking up his drink, which I happily returned with a vicious smirk of my own. Have that, mr. popstar. 

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