It's time for Aaaalice to wake up! And for her to run amuck! We've got lot's of thi-

I switched off the alarm sound that Andi had so kindly recorded for me. They'd been working on a career as a voice actor after singing didn't pan out so, during a particularly rough unemployment phase littered with "we're not interested, better luck elsewhere" letters from recording companies, Andi had binged the new Animaniacs series and recorded me my very own alarm song. We also had Andi custom sounds for text messages, parental ringtones, individualized ringtones for all of our friends and neighbors, and a recorded sound to use as Maria's ringtone, which I refused to use in case she ever overheard it.

Let's just say I'd never realized how many words rhymed with the word "cunt".

As I did every morning, I stared up at the ceiling and breathed deeply, trying to find the energy to get out of bed and start my day.

"Good girl."

I smiled the goofiest grin and rolled out of bed, more excited for my morning latte than I normally would be. There was a touch of embarrassment as I spent a little more time than usual curling my hair and doing my makeup, but the barista had given me the ego boost I didn't know I needed and I was abruptly interested in putting effort into my looks again. We've all been there, right? The daily drudge gets to us, one day you forget to do eyeliner, the next you forget the bold lip colors (who really has time for all those reapplications?), then you start wearing the same comfortable outfits instead of the cute ones that are a bit uncomfortable, and the next thing you know you're wearing the same eight blouses with jeans and the same black flats with a smear of lip gloss and a messy braid.

I felt better than I had in months walking out of my apartment in my best dark-wash jeans, the heeled booties I'd spent too much on, and a white blouse I'd bought because it was gorgeous but had never worn because I was paranoid about spills. The sidewalk became my catwalk, there was a bounce in my walk that had been missing for ages and it felt like everyone noticed. More neighbors waved, more men gave me an appreciative glance, and almost all the women I passed gave me that approving smile that said, "you go girl."

With that energy, I rode the Metro standing without a single complaint and walking to Union Brew House like I owned the damn place. The sexy but mysterious smile I'd practiced in the mirror for hours in college was plastered on my face as I walked up to the counter. It faltered when my gaze landed on a harried looking teenager managing the register and I stumbled over my usual order. It was silly, but I was a little deflated to see that he wasn't here.

Get a grip, Cameron, I told myself as I walked to the pick-up counter. You're hot for you, not for some man to see you.

And I was. Dressing up was to give me the confidence to talk to him. Clothing and make up were my armor on the battlefield of modern romance. They were the tools, but I knew at the end of the day my personality needed to be the main course if I wanted a relationship to last. The exterior was the bait, not the hook. If all they want is the bait? Let them steal it and reel that hook back in until you can find someone who is willing to go soul deep.

Was it a tad gauche to think of dating like hooking a fish? Probably, but I was burnt out on dating and most days it felt like a sport.

"Do ye want extra foam on the lid?"

My eyes darted up in a flash and met those twinkling greens, and all plans for a sexy mysterious smile went the wayside as a genuine grin broke through.

"You didn't make a mess?" I raised a brown.

"Nay, I can be tidy when I need to," he assured me with a quirk to the corner of his mouth.

"Where's the fun in that?"

He let out a hearty chuckle at that and I grinned like a goof whilst grabbing my coffee from him. This time, I'm certain he brushed my fingers with his on purpose.

"Guess I'll be dirty next time, eh?" he asked with a mischievous grin of his own and I giggled, walking out of the coffee shop like I was as light as air.

It was a bruiser of a day in the office, Maria demanding as ever but with an extra level of paranoia since the board chairs announced they'd be in office soon. Any other day, I would've been pulling my hair out, but I just kept playing whispers of "good girl" and "I'll be dirty" over and over in my mind like a broken record of innuendo.

***

"You look different."

Looking over, Andi was nose deep in their laptop, so I wasn't sure what part of me they were commenting on, but I wasn't going to be obtuse. After months of the same eight tops and jeans on rotation, curled hair, makeup, and heels were an abrupt change.

"I was feeling myself."

"You wanted someone to be feeling you, you mean."

I glared at the raised brow assessing me from behind their MacBook.

"You're being crass."

"And you have a crush. Spill."

Andi's one green and one blue eyes drilled into my soul like icicles. Andi was like a hound dog on the scent if they so much as sensed the tiniest variance in my daily routine. Honestly, I was surprised they hadn't noticed anything the night before when I was walking on cloud nine after work, but in their defense, they were re-recording the same chapter for an audiobook that the author had already be changed twice before and had been ready to pull their (admittedly minimal) hair out.

"It's not a crush. There's just a cute guy at the coffee shop."

"A guy. At a coffee shop. And that was worth wearing the boots you previously swore were created by sadists and that you were definitely sending to a consignment shop after the Halloween Fiasco of 2021?"

Damn their memory. It was practically photographic.

"Okay, fine, a cute guy in the coffee shop who flirted yesterday and again this morning."

"So, a crush."

I rolled my eyes at them. "A crush suggests that I want to spend the rest of my life with them and have lots of sex and babies."

"So you just want the lots of sex part?"

The deadpan expression Andi was able to pull off really was unfair. My face could be read accurately from space. Andi was a brick wall. I knew this was their extremely dry humor coming out but didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

"I just want the self-esteem boost from flirting."

"So if he offered sex, you'd say no?"

I gaped at them.

"Andi!"

"Sorry, sorry. If he offered to delicately woo you and give you the most perfect hymen sacrificing ever in the history of virgin losses, you'd say no?"

"Why are we friends?" I asked, while digging in the fridge for the chicken burrito bowl I'd hidden the night before.

"Because I know all your deepest darkest secrets and stay your friend anyway?"

"Fine!" I huffed. "Where's the fucking burrito bowl?"

The sound of a spoon hitting a plastic container had me looking up and catching Andi's guilty look as I noticed the empty meal prep container beside them.

"I know all your deepest darkest secrets and stay your friend anyway!" Andi shouted before leaping over the back of their chair and running to their room, me hot on their tail.

***

The hot coffee man, as Andi now referred to him, and I continued on in a similar fashion for weeks. I made room in my budget for coffee Monday through Wednesday, since those were his days on the morning shift, and we traded brief flirtations that were growing ever more raunchy; a bit of a feat given where we'd started. In the second week, I learned he was a manager. I didn't learn his name until week three when the kid running the register called him Robbie. By week four, my order was no longer taken, I just paid. On the Monday of week five, I walked in to hear my name called and see that my drink was both ready and paid for.

Honestly it was the best relationship I'd ever been in, and I didn't know his last name or if he was even single.

Andi had pestered me endlessly in the beginning.

"Why don't you ask for his number?"

"It's not like that," I told them, shaking my head.

"It should be," they'd said with a huff.

By week six, Andi was adamant.

"I'd require dinner before having this kind of dirty talk."

"It's not dirty talk," I protested.

"It's not? He's telling you he made a mess for you to lick up."

"On my coffee lid!"

"You talk about kinks."

"We're goofing around, not being serious."

"So you wouldn't want him chained to an espresso machine while he frothed your bits?"

"Okay, first off, frothing in that shop usually means steaming and we're not putting jets of steam anywhere near my bits. Second, the kink thing was a jokey comment about me being kinky because I said I needed to be punished for spilling a coffee."

Andi rolled their eyes.

"Ask. Him. Out."

"It'll ruin it!" I yelled, curling a lock of hair that was fighting me. We were preparing for a night out. I was still riding my dress-up kick whilst Andi was embracing their new low-maintenance hairstyle which was much shorter than the shoulder length hair they'd had when I met them. I think the edgier cut had given them the ego boost they needed as well since everyone commented on how freaking good it looked. Almost made me long for an androgynous cut but after the Short Hair Disaster of 2018, I'd sworn I'd never go shorter than shoulder length ever again.

"Or you'll actually get some, for once," they shouted from the kitchen.

I stuck my tongue out, not that Andi could see it.

The truth was that I'd considered suggesting we meet outside of the shop, but what if it wasn't actually a thing? What if it was nothing more than workplace banter with a customer? What if he had a partner? What if I ruined it and had to find a new coffee shop to visit three days a week? I didn't think I could handle that. I'd grown too attached to our routine. Honestly, it was one of the best parts of my day. Everything seemed easier when I started the day with an attractive man purring innuendos at me.

I did a final hair fluff in the mirror, putting the matter aside and feeling ready to go out into the jungle of Washington clubs.