BLOOD ORANGE

These are sinister concepts that follow their own rules. I will not be coddling you with warnings at the start of chapters, you came here of your own will. Don’t keep them waiting, Citrus <3

You stare at the burnt orange paper taped to your apartment door.

'EVICTION NOTICE'

“THIS LETTER SERVES AS A FORMAL NOTICE THAT Y/N IS REQUIRED TO VACATE THE RENTAL PROPERTY WITHIN 30 DAYS FROM THE DATE OF THIS NOTICE.”

You don't move for several minutes.

The initial shock wears off and you step inside your apartment. There's no picture frames on the walls, no personal items showcasing your talents or passions. It's barren. Lifeless. Just as it's owner.

You change into your uniform and leave for work.

***********

It wasn't shocking, you expected this. You tell yourself as the dark coffee beans grind to a fine powder in the container.

It all happened so fast. High school came and went. College was ultimately a fluke. Now you're pushing 30, working two minimum-wage jobs and just got evicted from your apartment.

The coffee grinder shrieks as it murders the coffee beans. You switch the machine off. You ponder if somewhere out there's a person-sized grinder. How would that work?

"A person grinder..." you mumble.

"Start with that weird shit and I'm sending your ass home." Your manager grumbles, grabbing supplies.

You transfer the ground coffee beans to the coffee filter. "Boss, I know it's a lot to ask, but can I-"

"If this is about more hours, no. It's not in the budget." Your manager bluntly says.

You stare in the tawny depths of the ground coffee. The roasted, rich aroma you once loved now filled you with a dread and hopelessness every time you smelt it.

"I'm getting evicted from my apartment."

Your manager goes silent. You silently continue working. There was no shame to be had in begging. You used up the last of that years ago.

Your manager awkwardly clears his throat, "I'm sorry to hear that, Y/N..."

No you aren't.

"But the Regional Manager..."

That 60 something old woman whose wig is cruncher than a stale piece of bread?

You set up the coffee machine. "I understand," you murmur. It's not like you didn't expect the excuses, but you'd tear yourself apart with regret later if you never asked.

You walk to the front counter, absently sorting things. You need another job.

No, you need a better job.

Another job and a better job?

You shouldn't have signed a lease there. But it was cheap and you were desperate. You could fight the eviction, it was unfair, unwarranted. You've been nothing but a perfect tenant. But you're not going to.

Not because you don't want the apartment anymore. Not because you think you deserve better.

But because you're exausted.

Ready to let your life continue downhill.

Ready to...

Your jaw clenches. You wipe the counter harder.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Your head reflexively swings to towards the sound. The person flinches at your sharp reaction.

"S-sorry, I didn't want to use it!" The person raises their hands in surrender, "but I was calling you and you weren't answering, so..."

"I'm sorry," you even your voice, "what can I get you."

Your manager gave up on forcing you to smile long ago. Turns out customers getting what they paid for mattered more than persistently grinning like an idiot.

The customer moves in front of the register. He straightens his back and looks at the menu. You blink once.

He is massive.

At least 4 heads taller than you. His stocky upper body fills his light grey sweater completely. The collar slopes around his neck from the sculpt of his huge traps.

"Um-" The huge man looks down at you. Genuinely down. You'd be embarrassed at how much he needs to tilt forward. "Do you maybe have any recommendations this time?"

His voice is deep, yet twinged with that youthfulness of age. No doubt younger than you. You tap your screen. "You ordered a caramel latte with almond milk last time, right? How about a Macchiato with oatmilk? It's not a huge jump, but a little different consistency-wise."

The man eagerly nods as you answer, "yes, I'll have that!"

You input the order details in the tablet and start preparing the drink. Remembering customers was rewarding (tips). And this hulk of a man wasn't exactly hard to forget.

He's young, energetic, and polite. Came in at least twice, sometimes thrice, always wearing athleisure wear. You adeptly make his drink, popping the lid on and set it on the counter.

"Anything else?" You ask.

He searches your face like the answer is written somewhere there. You patiently tilt your head and his broad shoulders tense in response. His puppy brown eyes slide away. His cheeks lightly flush pink.

"Right here..." He points to the empty name line on the cup.

Your brows slightly lift, "ah." It's protocol to input customer names in the system to label their drinks properly, but you usually bypassed that when the store isn't busy. "You're the only one here, so I didn't write your name on it."

Come to think of it, you've never taken his name for an order. A bit peculiar since he's practically a regular now.

"Felix," he shyly smiles, "my name is Felix."

Felix intently watches you take a pack of cookies from the display cabinet. His eyes wide and locked on your hand scribbling on the packaging:

Felix :)

"Have a good day," you hold the drink and freebie cookies out to him, "Felix."

Felix shoots his hand out, clumsily grabbing his drink and cookies from you. "You- you too!" His voice pitches comically high. "Thank so much, Y/N."

You crack a faint smile. Felix flinches and quickly turns away. His heavy duffle bag swings behind his back. "B-B-Bye now!" He exclaims.

Watching a man of his size duck out the entrance and flee the store with a cup of coffee and cookies was objectively funny. You normally hated when customers randomly called you by your name.

You sigh and continue tidying up. The afternoon rush starts in less than an hour.

************

It's been a week since you received your eviction notice. Stress was slowly eroding your nerves. No one was hiring. No one wanted a tenant working two jobs yet still barely meeting the rent requirements.

You slump over the counter. Your stomach burns from the skipped meals. You stopped looking yourself over in the mirror any more. Your eyes had sunken in low and dark for years.

The front door dings open and you pop up from the counter, greeting the customer. It was 4 p.m., suits, teenagers and HR women slowly fill the store. You shout to the kitchen for back up.

You pull your phone from your pocket and check the time. 8:30 p.m. now. You heavily exhale from your nostrils. It's over.

The front door dings open. Your head automatically turns to it. Felix rushes to the counter before you can even fully acknowledge his presence.

"Y/N!" Felix nearly shouts, "hey- hi," he breathlessly continues.

His chest heaves up and down. Sweat slicks his forehead. He tightly grips his duffle bag strap in his hand. Your mouth drifts open and you swiftly catch it, bringing your eyes up from his sinfully fitted yellow shorts flush against his incredibly muscular thighs.

"Hi, Felix." You flatly greet him.

Felix immediately brightens, all teeth and dimples. You've never seen someone this happy to see you.

"I- uh..." Felix takes a cautious step back from the register, nervously running his hand through the messy chestnut locks of his overgrown buzz cut. "I'm late today. I had a game at three, so I couldn't stop by earlier."

You struggle to find a safe place to look. His damp jersey clings to his chest, molding around his nipples. The thick muscles in his brawny arms twitch as he nervously fidgets with the bag strap. What are they putting in these kids school lunches?

"I see. Would you like to order now?"

Felix hesitates, caught on your question like he was unprepared for it.

"A... A macchiato, please. Oatmilk. You make it really good."

You nod once and begin preparing it. Your hands automatically move across the machines. Pain pulses from your head.

You set the finished drink on the counter and ring it up. You focus on your breathing, ignoring the building pressure. "Alright, your total is $11.75."

Felix looks at you, then at the drink, then back at you. "...Y/N, you forgot the... coffee."

You look at the drink on the counter. It's milky white with whipped cream. You rub your forehead and deeply sigh. "Shit- sorry- I mean -fu-" you catch yourself. "I'll remake it, sorry." You grab the drink and turn away before Felix can say anything.

You hand Felix the remade drink. A low grumble attacks your stomach. You swallow the sensation away.

Felix carefully takes the drink from you. "Are you alright, Y/N? You don't look too great.

You glance at Felix' worried expression. He's shifted forward as if ready to somehow catch you over the counter if you faint. You roughly wipe your eyes and undo your apron. "Yea, sorry about that." You step out from behind the counter, "take care, Felix."

You leave the cafe and circle to the back of the building. You press your back against the grainy foundation and slide to the floor.

You close your eyes. Birds chirp in the sky. For moment, the world is peaceful.

"Y/N..."

You open your eyes. Felix stands near you, close but not hovering. He kneels, "I don't want to be a bother, but can I get you water or anything? You look dehydrated."

You inspect Felix for the nth time today. Those big brown eyes and scruffy brows contorted in concern for you. You sit up and lean on your knees. "Its just been a long day. I'm fine."

You hope with that, he'll take the hint and leave you alone. Felix reaches in his duffle bag and digs around. He pulls out a paper. His throat bobs and he looks at you, visibly readying himself to speak.

"There's a festival on campus next week- I know you have to work! But I'll be helping clean up afterwards and there'll be a lot of leftovers- not saying that I think you're only good enough for leftovers! It's all freshly baked food- I think you'll like it, it's pastries and cakes and things you sell here and uh-" Felix catches his breath. His face flushes red. "Maybe you can stop by if you have the time..."

You blink at Felix. "Are you hitting on m-"

"NO!" Felix face glows red. "I just thought I should- you should..." Felix places the paper on your lap like a fragile piece of glass and springs to his feet. "You don't have to come but... I hope you do," his voice drops with his cheeks permanently flushed pink now. "I'll go now. Feel better, Y/N."

Felix makes a swift escape yet again. You watch him clear the parking lot with his giant steps and fade down the street. You sigh and pick up the paper.

It'd be remiss to pretend you didn't know he had developed a crush on you. You didn't treat him different than any other customer. You were short, blunt with your words, yet he still lingered in the store, clumsily attempting conversation with you. Unfortunately, you don't have the luxury of entertaining someone several years younger than you at the moment.

This little infatuation of his will pass soon enough. You crumble the paper in a ball and stand to your feet. Enough time wasted, you have to get to your next job.