FRICTION

Ch. 12: The Great Bagel Shortage

-Eric-

"You can do that for me, right?" I mimicked low under my breath, frowning as I turned the corner.

He'd just walked all over me. Again.

I'd let him too, standing there like a make-shift punching bag, as if intending it to be so. And frankly, I hadn't even processed the reality of the situation until I was already out of the bathroom, the added space between Shawn and I feeling like enough of a buffer to think. To breathe a bit easier.

To fucking remember that I was meant to force an apology out of him, somehow. But like hell was that going to happen when I couldn't even stand up to him.

I scowled back at the bathroom, nearly storming back in there before halting myself a few feet from the closed door. It wasn't worth it, as much as I was itching for a fight. Not just because there was no guarantee he couldn't make my life a literal living hell in turn; there was also no guarantee that I'd be able to cling onto the scarce, hint of bravado I'd scrapped together once I was out of there.

For all I knew, I'd go back to nervously stammering the moment I barged back in there. And then what?

God, Lucy would be so disappointed.

But in that moment, as that man stared me down, I hadn't really known what else to do. His animosity was starting to seriously piss me off, but how was I supposed to argue back when it felt like he still had the moral high ground? If I could just get on equal footing, it wouldn't feel so uncomfortable to argue back.

But until then...

I passed by the front desk, curiously looking over at Paul. He seemed rather unbothered as he read through a magazine, suddenly cringing as he glanced up and caught sight of me.

"What?" he questioned drily, as if irritated by my mere presence.

Hah. He had that in common with Shawn.

I sighed, more exhausted as time went on. I couldn't wait until my shift was over and I could head back home. "Nothing."

That didn't seem to be the right answer, though. Paul rolled his eyes, lowering the magazine onto the desk. "You're moping. Did you get lost or something?" He asked it so seriously too, like Jacqueline's office wasn't just down the hall and I wasn't a grown ass adult.

"Huh? N-no," I grumbled, unsure of how to react to his condescending tone. There was such a casualness to it, like it was understood that I'd be out of my depth here. It was almost intimidating. "Shawn's forcing me to do shit for him."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Yeah, he does that sometimes. Just go with it."

I sighed. Alright. So, at least he could relate to my pain here.

"He wants coffee?" I tried, a bit unsure of whether I was expected to go to the coffee shop down the road or if we had a coffee maker here.

"Ah, yes. He hasn't had breakfast yet," Paul mentioned aloud, nodding his head in agreement. "He likes his coffee very hot. Mostly because he gets distracted and won't drink it right away. This way, it'll still be hot by the time he gets to it."

I nodded my head slowly, listening intently. "Okay."

"Two sugars, two creams. He says he likes it black, but he's a filthy liar."

Oh. "A-are you sure?"

He leaned forward, his face suddenly contorting with a perturbing seriousness. "Yes. And don't mess up the bagel, kid," he threatened, though there was a glint of concern in his tone.