𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

somewhere in northern italy pt. 1

(Your POV)

I pull the silver key out from my pocket and unlock the front door to the bakery, pulling the door open and making my way inside. The air still smells like bread, which we baked fresh last night in preparation for this morning's busy crowd.

I work in a bakery in northern Italy, right in the center of a town where tourists frequently visit. It's summer, which is one of the busiest times of year for us, so my family and I have spent many hours making sure we have enough food in our family bakery to sell to eager foreign customers.

I slink behind the counter and begin filling the shelves with pastries, bread, and sweets. Once that's done, I prepare the coffee makers and espresso pots, which will surely be used often today.

My sister and mother come in shortly after me and help me finish setting up before the crowds come in.

As soon as we open the doors to the public, we are swarmed with customers. I barely have time to think as I fill cups of coffee and box up dozens of pastries.

After about two hours of work, my feet are sore, I'm tired and hungry, and just ready for a break. My mood isn't great, and it doesn't help that all of the foreign customers have an arrogant attitude about them. They're all snobby and acting as if they're better than I am.

Usually I can handle a rude customer, but one woman comes up to the counter with an attitude I simply can't get past.

"Hello, what can I get for you today?" I ask politely with gentle smile.

The woman doesn't smile back or say hello, simply demands in a hoarse voice, "Get me a coffee and a loaf of that bread."

I'm taken aback by her statement. I've had my fair share of mean customers, but they usually have the decency to at least say hello at first. I try to ignore it, shaking off my urge to yell at her.

"Would you like cream or sugar in your coffee?" I ask, still sticking to a sickly sweet voice.

"Did I say I wanted cream or sugar?" The woman responds harshly.

"Um, no..." I respond nervously.

"Then I don't want any."

I try not to roll my eyes, instead envisioning myself relaxing on a tropical island somewhere, having someone else wait on me for once as I sip piña coladas and listen to the waves crash along the shore.

"And which type of bread did you say you wanted?" I ask, gesturing towards the shelf lines from end to end with our different selections.

"Oh my God, lady don't you listen to your customers? I pointed to that one on the end. God, it's like talking to a brick wall," the woman scoffs.

I clench my fists at my side and bite my lip, using all my willpower to go off on this lady. In any other situation, I would have dragged her to filth my now. But I'm at work, and as much as I want to put her in her place, I won't risk it.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I wouldn't be so rude to the young lady that's serving your food. She could poison you. Or spit in your drink," a voice says from behind the old woman.

I look up to see the most stunning human being I've ever seen in my life. He has dark brown chair that hangs over his forehead in loose curls. His jawline could slice a brick. And his eyes, those eyes; they're a pale green color and when he makes eye contact with me, I feel myself getting lost in them.

"And who the hell are you?" The woman says with disgust as she glares at the handsome boy.

"I'm Timothée. Nice to meet you," he says with a tight lipped smile, extending his hand out to her.