The Coffee Incident
Some people wake up to peaceful birds chirping, stretch their arms, and sip their morning coffee while watching the sunrise.
I wake up in pure chaos.
The sound of my alarm—set to the most obnoxious siren noise possible—blasted through my tiny apartment, jolting me awake with the grace of someone being electrocuted. I flailed, fell off my bed, and groaned into the floor. First day of my internship, and I’m already off to a great start.
Squinting at my phone, my heart stopped. 7:42 A.M. Holy. Freaking. Hell. I had exactly eighteen minutes to get dressed, get out the door, and make it to Harper Enterprises—aka the biggest company in New York. My dream internship. My golden opportunity. The one thing I absolutely couldn’t screw up.
Spoiler alert: I was already screwing it up.
New York traffic hated me. The subway was packed, a man sneezed directly on my arm (why, universe, why?), and I nearly tripped while running up the stairs. By the time I reached a coffee shop near the office, I was panting, stressed, and desperate for caffeine.
“One large oat milk latte, please,” I told the barista, slapping my last five-dollar bill on the counter.
The universe, still out for blood, had other plans.
As soon as I grabbed my coffee and stepped outside, a cab flew past, splashing a wave of dirty rainwater directly onto me. I stood there, dripping, reevaluating every life decision. Then, I checked the time. 7:59 A.M. My heart dropped. I had ONE MINUTE to get inside Harper Enterprises before I was officially late.
Gripping my coffee like it was a lifeline, I bolted across the street, dodging pedestrians, tripping over my own feet, and praying to every higher power that I wouldn’t die before my internship even began. The Harper Enterprises skyscraper loomed ahead—tall, sleek, absolutely terrifying. I pushed through the massive glass doors, racing toward the elevators. And that’s when my life went from mild disaster to absolute catastrophe.
The elevator doors were just about to close when I lunged forward, shoving my hand between them.
“Wait—hold the—!”
The doors jerked open, and I stumbled in, nearly face-planting into someone’s chest. My coffee? Yeah. That didn’t survive.
The cup slipped from my fingers in slow-motion horror, flipping mid-air like it was in the freaking Olympics before splashing all over a very expensive white dress shirt.
I gasped.
The man stood completely still, like he was processing the absolute disaster I had just created. I looked up, and wow. The guy was ridiculously attractive in a cold, intimidating way. Tall. Dark-haired. Perfectly sculpted jawline. And those grey eyes? They weren’t just piercing—they looked like they could end a person.
Unfortunately, at this moment, I might actually be that person.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “I am so, so, so sorry.”
His jaw clenched. “Move.”
I froze. “H-hold on! I can fix this.”
Before he could stop me, I grabbed a napkin from my bag and dabbed at his shirt—except instead of helping, I just smeared the coffee stain even more.
His body went rigid.
I barely had a second to react before his hand snapped up, fingers wrapping around my wrist, stopping me mid-motion.
“Don’t,” he said, voice like ice.
I blinked. “I was just—”
“I don’t like being touched.” His grip was firm, controlled—but not harsh. It was a warning.
I swallowed hard and slowly lowered my hand, noticing the way everyone else in the elevator was dead silent. Okay. Weird.
Feeling like I needed to do something, I panicked. I reached into my bag, pulled out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill, and shoved it at him. “For dry cleaning.”
A strangled noise came from the corner of the elevator. I turned and saw another man, tall, broad-shouldered, and grinning like he was witnessing the funniest thing in the world.
“Oh, this is gold,” he chuckled. “You’re tipping him?”
I frowned. “Uh… yeah? Accidents happen.”
though, of course, I had no idea who he was—the guy with on whom I spilled coffee stared at the twenty-dollar bill in his hand like I’d just handed him a used napkin.
“You think this—” he lifted the bill between two fingers, looking offended “—is enough to fix this?”
“Uh, yeah?” I blinked. “That’s a solid tip. You could get, like, two coffees with that.”
The grinning guy lost it. He was straight-up laughing now, slapping his hand against the elevator wall.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, wiping a tear from his eye. “Christian, my friend, you should take it. Would be the first time someone actually compensated you for dealing with nonsense.”
Christian. That was his name? Okay. Noted.
Christian, unamused and probably plotting my demise, exhaled slowly and handed the money back to me. “Keep it.”
I panicked. “I insist.”
He gave me a look.
I shoved it back into his pocket.
His jaw ticked. “Don’t—”
Before he could finish that sentence, the other guy—still smirking—cut in. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. You new here?”
I turned to him, still mildly panicked. “Uh… yeah. First day. I just started as an intern.”
Oscar’s smirk widened. “Ohhh, this just keeps getting better.”
He extended his hand toward me. “What’s your name?”
I hesitated but shook his hand. “Olivia. Olivia Geller.”
“Well, Olivia,” he said, grinning like this was the best day of his life, “I’m Oscar Maden. CFO of Harper Enterprises.”
My stomach dropped.
CFO. As in… Chief Financial Officer.
As in, very, very high up. Oscar asked me “Which department?”
“Marketing.” I replied.
His smirk grew. “Marketing intern? I love that. Welcome to the company.”
I smiled nervously, about to thank him—until I remembered something.
If he’s the CFO… then what about the guy I just spilled coffee on?
Slowly, I turned back to the glowering man in the ruined white dress shirt.
Tall. Dark suit. A cold, powerful aura. The fact that everyone in the elevator was avoiding eye contact.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
“W-wait.” My eyes widened. “Are you… are you, like, his assistant or something?”
Oscar made a strangled noise.
Christian stared at me, expressionless.
And then, ding!
The elevator doors slid open.
Oscar clapped Christian on the back, still laughing his ass off. “Oh, I’m never letting you live this down.”
Christian said nothing. He just shot me one last, unreadable look before walking out.
The elevator doors closed again.
I exhaled.
A girl behind me whispered, “That was Christian Harper. The CEO.”
I froze.
The. CEO.
Of the company I was interning for.
I just spilled coffee on my boss.
And then I tipped him.
I was so screwed.
