Caffeine Withdrawal | T. Drake ✔

[18] Aftermaths Of A Bar Fight

Isadora pulled away the curtains from the window allowing the sunlight to flood in the room but Alex buried himself deeper in the blanket.

"Hey, don't you want breakfast?"

"No," his voice was muffled due to the blanket he had wrapped over his face.

She sighed, folding her arms as she stood by the bedpost, "Alex, do you know what time is it?"

"Eight?" He had mumbled uncertainly.

She hadn't woken him up at the usual time since it seemed to her as if he had been really tired so a few hours had passed since then, "nope, ten."

As expected, he threw the blanket off him and scrambled out of bed, "and you didn't wake me up earlier? Heaven's sake, Isadora, it's ten... I'm so late, so terribly late..."

"Relax, I opened the shop by myself and Tim's down there at the counter right now," she spoke up, "he came earlier today and offered to help."

"But still, you should have woken me up on time. There are so many other things I have to look after," he mumbled searching his closet for the towel and clothes.

She shrugged, "sleeping in rarely will not do you any harm. You were so tired, I came to wake you up but decided against it."

"And now I'm late..."

"Stop being a hyper punctual freak." But her features contracted in alarm as she noticed his face, "Al, what happened to your face?"

However, he dashed off into the bathroom without replying which made her get suspicious. Alex was not the sort of person to get into fights yet his nose was swollen as if he had clearly been punched in the face.

She knew he couldn't possibly hide it from her for long since he would ultimately come down for breakfast hence she would ask him then. 

When she came down to the coffee shop, Tim was busy taking orders so she went to the kitchen to tend to the orders that he had put up on the soft board as well as make something for Al's breakfast.

"Plenty of orders waiting for you," Tim remarked cheerfully as he entered the kitchen to pin up the latest order, "you know what, Dora, this is my dream job."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically, "taking orders?"

"Nope, just staying in a coffee shop. The aroma, the environment, the people and the constant supply of coffee... Heavenly."

She laughed lightly, "you already do that without even having a job here."

"Yeah because you Beaumonts are kind enough not to kick me out," he remarked, his smile widening, "though you had tried doing it once."

"Oh come on, I had not kicked you out per se," she answered, "you had yourself stormed off after Steph caught you flirting your way out of the dare."

His cheeks burned red just like she had expected, "I was not flirting."

However, their conversation was put to a halt when Alex entered and shooed Tim away. Dora handed him a glass of milk and two sandwiches despite the fact that he protested against it.

"Eat, or else I will punch you on the nose regardless of whatever injury you've sustained," she warned him.

He knew exactly what she was referring to, "it was an accident and I'm perfectly fine now."

She still did not seem convinced by his reply. "What job are you doing recently?"

"I work as a bartender," he replied nonchalantly, "in a regular club. Last night a fight broke out between some people and they weren't exactly functional to think where their punches were landing. That's all."

"What club?"

He considered but then told her anyway because he felt bad lying to her, "the Iceberg Lounge."

"The fuck not! Alex, are you out of your mind?" The two turned to see Tim standing in the doorway with blue eyes widened into saucers. "You know today is not the first of April and even if it was, that's a terrible joke you've pulled."

Alex shook his head, slightly amused by the dramatics Tim was up to, "oh come on, Tim. If you shout any louder, the customers would think you're off your rockers."

"Technically you're the one who's off your rockers," his reply was sharp, "how in the world could you be so stupid to apply for a job there? It's beyond me."

Dora seemed slightly confused, "what's wrong with him working at the Iceberg Lounge?"

"That place is a hole for maniacs," Tim elaborated, eyes meeting her brown ones, "be grateful Al came out alive even. Bar fights over there involve more than just punches. Think of guns and knives and swords and arrows... The list is never ceasing."

Her features were set in alarm at hearing that, "Alex, is that true?"

"No..."

Tim was about to add something but Isadora spoke up, "and you seem to know a lot about what goes on there. Is that not a bit suspicious?"

He realized that Isadora had a quick observant nature and usually he could have been caught out but he had a reply at the ready, "of course I do. My brother's a cop. I hear stuff like that everyday."

It had been a close call for Tim as he mentally took note of not letting slip a little too much in Dora's presence. He couldn't expect himself to come up with convincing excuses all the time.

"Calm down," Alex spoke up at last, "the thing is that I can not back off until the contract ends. So I'll try my best to stay out of trouble and you two stop worrying about it, please."

"A fucking contract..."

However Alex interrupted him before he could say anything else, "no, a simple contract."

His cheeks flushed again, "yeah, part of speech, not to be taken literally."

"Language," he mumbled back though his eyes indicated that he was amused at Tim's reaction.

"Since you two are busy sorting out your issues, I'm going to check out the counter. Oh and Al don't let Tim drink up all the coffee. His dream job would become an extra expense then," Dora remarked heading out of the kitchen.

"Stay assured, Dora, all the coffee is safe for now," Tim called back, "I had already had a couple cups while you were upstairs."

A smile flickered on Alex's features as he took in the orders displayed on the counters, "has anyone ever told you that your handwriting is terrible?"

His head snapped around, "what?"

"You will now dictate each and every order that you've written," Alex replied, "because the only two flavors I can read out are those which you usually order. The rest are a blur."

Tim shrugged but agreed to dictate the orders, "or perhaps the punch had been really bad and you still have blurry vision. Don't blame it all on my handwriting, it looks fine to me."

"Yeah like a bowl of spaghetti with extra ketchup..."

"Hey," he had folded his arms defiantly as if offended, "that's not fair."

Alex shook his head, chuckling slightly, "repeat the order after the three Cappuccinos, Timmy, or else I will mix everything up and clearly you'd be the one to take the blame."

His eyes flashed slightly, "Caramel Machiatto. Two cups."

"Thank you for your assistance."

Despite himself a smile threatened to break out on Tim's face, "you're always welcome. And please don't ever die soon."

"That's a weird way of expressing affection but since it's you and you're clearly a weirdo, I'll let it pass."

"Appreciate the compliment."

***