When I decided to go into business with my best friend, I considered it a good idea. I had visions of weekends off work, holidays in the summer, deciding on what hours I could work at Christmas, a relaxed atmosphere and the typical, work hard but play harder lifestyle. But what I got, was something entirely different... 

"Jesus Christ, Brooke." I huff down the phone as I press it into my shoulder, trying to dig change out of my purse for a fruit cooler that I was in desperation for. Today had turned out to be hotter than Hell on Sunday, despite what the weather man had said.

I think he sits on a throne of lies...

"I'm in mourning." Brooke replies, adding a sniffle to her reply.

As the line moves, I do too, shuffling along whilst still grabbing at the coins. "This is what? 3 days straight now. I'm seriously drowning in work here and you're at home-"

"It's called bereavement leave." She interrupts. 

With a fist full of money, I take the phone off my shoulder. "You only get that if you're related to them, you tool."

"Well I would have been. If he didn't die before our wedding."

I take a moment to gather my thoughts and channel my rage away. Going bat shit crazy whilst in a coffee shop was not the best way to promote our business, especially as I was in a work shirt. The person ahead of me turns away, probably wondering why I am biting down on my fist like a mad woman. 

"Brooke.. I am close to losing my shit with you." I warn. "Jon Snow is resurrected in season 6! You've seen it all before. So sitting at home, claiming bereavement leave is a load of baloney and you know it! I have meetings coming out of my ears and- Wait.." I pause and stuff my phone into my pocket to greet the barista and place my order. 

I don't fish out my phone until I have the mango fruit cooler in my hand and I'm on my way out the shop. "I have a thousand bloody emails that you could be answering from the confines of your bed but you still insist on- Ahh!"

So consumed in chewing Brooke out on her laziness, I had failed to see the door swinging inwards, resulting in the door slamming into my hand and sending the contents of my fruit cooler down my shirt. 

With a yelp I grab at the white shirt, which is now supporting a yellow stain, away from my skin, letting the crushed ice solution slip off the material and onto the floor.

"Oh shit.." A voice mutters. 

I ignore Brooke's questioning on the phone to glare at the idiot. "Are you kidding me?!" I shout.
The man looks over his shoulders at his friends who are all looking around him, wondering what the hold up is. "I'm real sor-"

"The door says pull! Pull! For this specific reason! You Neanderthal! Look at me!" I fume. 

The 6 foot giant looks over my shorter frame and pinches his lips together, amusement is dancing behind his eyes and I am daring him to laugh...

"I'm Zak." He smiles holding out his hand. "With a K"

Like Kak? 

I look at his hand and then to my shirt. "I don't care if you're the bloody Pope! Look at me!"

"I am, believe me.. I like your accent. Is it British?" He asks causing my eyes flare. The idiot seems pleased with himself. Figuring that he wasn't going to engage his brain, I hang up on Brooke, stuff my phone into my bag and stalk towards the napkin dispenser. 

"God damn it. Stupid bloody fruit-"

"Are you okay?" 

I shoot a daggered look at Zak as he stands beside me, pulling out more napkins as I wipe my shirt off. "Like you care. Why didn't you read the door? What if it was a hot drink? I could have been scolded."

"I'm sorry. Have I told you that? Maybe I tried but you interrupted."

I scoff and snatch the napkins from his fingers, brushing at my shirt in frustration. 

"Let me get you another one." He says.

"No thank you. I am on lunch and - "

"Let me buy you lunch then?"

"A working lunch and don't have time to wait for another one or have anything to eat."

He frowns "You need to eat."

"You don't know me." I interject.

"Everyone needs to eat. Come on, let me buy you another drink at least? Please?"

I shove the napkins into the bin and turn to face him. "Listen, I get you're sorry and I accept that but can you just-"

"Want to get a coffee sometime? I really like your accent and could listen to it all day."

I raise my brow, half in annoyance and half in surprise that someone like him would want to 'get coffee' with someone like me. "You want to buy me coffee, just to hear me talk?"

"Well maybe it could turn into something else but I'm not one to assume things so..." He trails off and seals his comment with a cheeky grin. 

He is a little breath taking, but I don't show how much, because a woman never exposes herself. I could guarantee that if he smelt the slightest bit of curiosity from me, he'd pounce.

"Yellow is a good colour on you." He adds.

"Are you trying to be funny?" I ask. 

"Well yellow and pink."

I look down to see my white shirt was now stained yellow and showing off my pink bra underneath. Instantly, I fold my arms over my chest, as my cheeks turn red with embarrassment. Today was washing day and in a state of panic from oversleeping, I grabbed the nearest bra I could find. 

"So how about coffee?" He asks.

"You don't even know my name." I reply which only makes him smile. 

"Well how about you tell me all about it over coffee.." He concludes and with some mystical powers, he guides me over to a vacant table. 

I soon find myself sat down and watching as he orders us both a fruit cooler. Feeling my phone vibrate, I take it out and cancel the call from Brooke, only for it to ring a couple seconds later. Deciding my best option is to answer, I accept the call and tell her that I'm taking lunch and will ring her later, before hanging up. 

Zak returns, with two cups. He sets one down on his side, before placing mine down and nodding to it. I glance down at the cup to see the writing on the side saying sorry, my lips curl into a smile and I go to thank him when he rushes back to the counter before returning with a blueberry muffin sat on a plate. He guides the plate across to me with a grin. "There's my apology."

"Thank you." I reply using the knife to cut it in half before pushing the plate between us. "Your half. I insist."

He scoffs back the half muffin before taking a sip of his drink. "Now that is out the way. How about you tell me all about you, starting with your name."

Looking up at his cheeky smile and bright eyes, I decide that work can wait. Who does working lunches now anyway?