Home

New Barista

After grabbing all our ingredients for the spaghetti from the grocery store, we arrive back at the apartment and begin to prep the ingredients. These ingredients consist of pasta, ground chicken, tomato sauce, bell peppers, green onions and garlic. 

We set them all down on the marble island while Paris goes and changes out of her work uniform. I also decide to change into clothes more comfortable and casual. 

I hastily make my way back into the kitchen in a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeve maroon shirt. I stand at the island ready to sort the ingredients, when I hear Paris making her way down the hallway. She appears in the kitchen with a pair of grey shorts on, paired with a comfy blue hoodie. 

"Let's get this cooking on", she exclaims while putting on some music on her speaker. On The Floor by JLo begins to play. Paris is a big fan of throwback music. 

Before we touch anything, we make sure to wash our hands. 

Paris begins to boil the pasta in one pot, while the ground chicken is cooking in another. I'm cutting up the vegetables when I remember to ask about that barista job I found. 

"Paris. I wanna ask you something.", I state.

"Shoot"

"When we were in the cafe this morning, I saw a poster on the window when we were leaving.", I say while putting the knife down and pausing the music. "They need help and I was thinking-"

"Hell no", she interrupts while turning to face me. 

"C'mon. Why not?", I whine turning my body as well. 

"Because. I have to keep a close eye on you, and make sure you're alright.", she replies. 

"I am alright though."

"For now. What if he comes back? What if I let you work there, and he comes and takes you away again?", she questions. 

"That won't happen."

"How do you know that? He could've followed us here!"

"No he didn't. There's no possible way he could've followed us here.", I reply. "He couldn't have gone back to that house and grabbed his car in time to drive back to where we were. We were already long gone by the time he got back to that house." 

"Let's say he didn't follow us, but what makes you think he won't find you again?"

I know he'll find me again. There's no doubt. He's done it before. The time I ran away after a month, he found me. I don't know how, but he did. I was one town over, about to get a train ticket home with the money I stole out of his wallet, when he pulled up beside me in his truck. He dragged me into the vehicle and drove back to that house. He taught me a lesson, and I knew from that moment on; there was no escaping that place. 

"We're far away from that place. Hours away. We could've gone in any direction from there. He doesn't know where I am.", I state. 

"Fine.", Paris agrees. "Why do you want this job in the first place? You were supposed to settle in for a month or two and then start building your life back up. What happened to that?"

"I can't do that!", I exclaim. "I can't sit around and do absolutely nothing while following you around!" 

"Why not?! You won't have to worry about anything!", she says while raising her voice. 

"That's why!", I shriek. "I want to worry about something! I want to worry about something other than him!"

"What do you mean?", she asks.