scenarios // multifandom

#73 - Ross and Rydel Lynch

I wiped the forming beads of sweat as I prepared another Americano, grabbing a croissant and placing a slice of ham inside. I put the snack in a to-go bag and handed it to the customer. "$3.50, please." The businesswoman handed me the money, I placed it in the register. "Have a nice day!"

Her response was a grunt as she exited the cafe, and I had a chance to catch my breath, every customer now served and happy. I sighed, flicking my eyes to the news. "As the British economy lowers to levels unseen in the past 30 years, both Rydel and Ross Lynch let go of some major shares with British company Selfridges-"

I turned back to cleaning the counter as the news presenter droned on about the most powerful twins raising havoc with just a couple of clicks.
If you didn't know them, you were crazy. Ross Lynch and Rydel Lynch are two very successful entrepreneurs, both in charge of Lynch & Sons Co. Despite being known for economy, being friends with her is as much of a privilege as being a Royal & attending one of his wild Hamptons parties would be a shocking honour for anybody. But me.

I'm happy with my small apartment, my job at the cafe & night shift at the university radio and swimming in my college tuition debt. At least my life wasn't on show as if was a celebrity.

"Harley," the owner of the hole-in-the-wall cafe, Eric, spoke my name harshly. "Quit daydreaming."

"I'm sorry, I got carried away." I chuckled, grabbing my notepad and pen to attend an old couple by the corner when the bell by the door sounded. "Hi, may I take your order?"

As an aspiring vet, this job is all I have for now to ensure I have a roof and food. I share my place with my 'friend' Alice but she's about as skint as I am. So I work my butt off to keep us going - not that I would want it any other way.

I turned away with orders in my hand and immediately began to work on them as a funky song came on the radio. As tiring as it was, small things like these were capable of making my day.

Still with a little bop to my step, I carried a tall latte in my hands across the cafe. That was when my leg became trapped on a bag strap and as I moved forward, the beverage flew from my hands onto a crisp, expensive suit. I hit the ground with a thud, the glass and plate smashing around me.

"Are you kidding me?!" I dared to look up, a very angry Ross Lynch stood above me, staring down at his stained shirt. His sister stood beside him, looking at the stain with a mixture of amusement and fear in her eyes. "This is Yves Saint Laurent!"

I shot up, ignoring her hand willing to help me. "Mr Lynch I-"

"Be quiet," Eric shoved me aside. "Mr Lynch, I apologise for this. I promise Harley will take care of the cost of your suit, because she won't be getting it anymore."

"It was an accident!" I protested.

"You're fired." He growled at me. With all the anger I already had bottled up over this man, I ripped off my apron and debated whether to strangle him with it. All I could do was lamely throw it at his chest and exit to the kitchen.

I grabbed my belongings and left through the back door, quickly realising what had just happened. Without this job, I was virtually homeless. I leaned against the wall of the cafe, sliding down to sit on the cold pavement. "Miss?"

"You heard him, your suit will be paid for and soon you can be off making money again," I replied sarcastically. "Sorry to hold you up."

"No, I wanted to assure you that it was an accident. And I don't want the suit to be paid for." Mr Lynch spoke. "Please stand, I feel like I'm talking down at you."

"Well, I've been fired so the damage is done." I shrugged, glancing at him. His eyes, usually portrayed by the media as cunning and promiscuous were now innocent and wide, as if I was a rare species for him. I'm poor, of course I am. "See you-"

"Wait, please. Would you like another, better and higher paying job?"

"Call me if you find one."

He smirked. "Are you flirting with me?"

"I just- no!" He smiled at my stammering as I reduced myself to a blushing mess.

"My current assistant is on maternity leave, and those stacks of letters aren't about to read themselves so," he grabbed a chequebook, writing on the back of the piece of paper. "Come here for an interview, and if you prove yourself to be strong and determined, you may be in luck. Now, I must go find a Starbucks, because I'm bound to crash at any time."

I watched him walk out of the alleyway into a sleek black car with tinted windows. Why did he talk like a 40 year old man despite being 21 like me?

it's so bad and I'm tired but this story would have a lit plot twist omg