That afternoon I'm sitting with Halston and Grace in the lunchroom since our budget demands of us to indulge in the ever-delicious cafeteria food more often than we'd like to.

     Grace, who's been fidgeting with her spoon in a container of Greek yogurt for the past five minutes, says unexpectedly, "So your boss is pretty hot, huh?"

     "Dres?" I ask stupidly. Of course she's talking about Dres. It's not like I've got another boss. I shrug my shoulders and add, "I mean, I guess." Objectively speaking, Dres is attractive. I've been trying not to think about him on objective terms, though.

     Grace lifts an eyebrow, questioningly. "You don't think so?"

     Before I can answer, Halston says, "Not everyone has to look at people that way."

     Grace scoffs. "You'd have to be blind not to notice."

     "Sure, he's hot," I admit, feeling this burning rush in my stomach at the words. Something about saying it aloud makes it all the more worse. Dres isn't just hot, I know. There's more to it than that. I've really been trying not to think about it, though. Especially after the Private Weston fiasco. He'd closed up in a second, turning back into the same cold, uninviting man I'd met yesterday.

     "What does it even matter?" Halston asks, her tone indifferent. "He's your boss."

     "You're right," I say with a shrug.

     "Yeah, but he's not my boss," Grace says suggestively.

     Halston balks and I think she's going to say something but she doesn't. Her reaction is curious. This whole conversation, I think, is curious. Again I can't help being struck with the notion that something is wrong between the two of them. I'm hesitant to get involved. I'm also tired and don't feel up to refereeing that fight.

     "Go for it," I say with an eye roll and a shrug. The shrug's intentional, but the eye roll not so much. "He's an ass. But you're kind of into that, so."

     Halston stifles a laugh, barely, and Grace glares at me. "I resent that."

     "Hey, if it's true, it's true," I say offering her a forgiving smile. "Assholes have a certain appeal."

     "Really? I thought dicks did it for you," Grace responds suggestively.

     I laugh loudly. "If presented with an asshole, I'm certainly not going to turn it down."

     "I think it's a bad idea," Halston says.

     "Of course you do," Grace responds, her voice just a little too icy.

     "This is Cas's first job. You going after his boss would, at the very least, make things awkward, but could also turn into a major disaster. Plus, how old even is Dres?"

     I frown. "Mm, I don't know. Maybe like twenty five?"

     Grace grins. "I love an older man."

     I say, "To be fair, he has no social etiquette and can't hold a conversation to save his life. He may be pretty but he's like a painting. Go ahead and stare at it, but don't expect it to do anything but stare at you back."

     Grace is practically swooning in her chair. "I would happily stare at those muscles all day. And the tattoos. Oh my god," she purrs. "He definitely is a piece of art. You're so lucky you get to see him all the time."

     "When did you even see him?" Halston asks.

     "I swung by this morning. Come on Cas, back me up. The muscles? The tatts? It's unreal."

     "He is indeed very muscular. Did I mention he only talks in sentences shorter than ten words? You can't get anything out of that man. He's Fort Knox. I've literally never heard someone grunt as way of answering as much as him."

     "Sounds like someone's got a little crush," Grace says laughing.

     I frown. "Not at all. I'm just saying. He's hot but that's all there is to him."

     "Pity," Grace says. "Though I suppose there doesn't need to be more to him with a face like that."

     The conversation moves on but I can't help thinking I've done Dres a great disservice. Maybe I'm wrong about him. I hope I am. I hate that I hope it.

     It's Monday morning, which means an early practice for me, but more importantly, it's opening day for Private Weston. I didn't expect to be this excited for it but after a week of prepping the place, I can't wait to see it all come to life.

     The doors open at seven-thirty and my shift starts fifteen minutes before that. I stroll into the store at ten-after, carrying my school uniform so I can leave it in the employee room. It's easer to change into it before I head back to school so I can get to class on time. After hanging up my uniform, I clock in and go to find Dres.

     After spending the week with him I feel slightly more comfortable in his presence. I've started to decode his different grunts, too, can tell when he's agreeing or disagreeing with me. Dare I say it, I'm actually okay with this form of communication. He listens to me talk about my day and just grunts along to my stories.

     I'm not intentionally quiet as I head towards the kitchen but he doesn't hear me enter. I get to observe him momentarily without him realizing it. There's a surround system in the whole store where he only plays #throwbacks. Jessie's Girl is on and he bobs his head as he goes through a row of cupcakes, icing them.

     It's kind of the worst thing ever that my boss is so extremely attractive and so painfully anti-social. Maybe if his personality was better it'd be dangerous for him to exist. People would flock to him.

     I shift and he must catch my shadow out of the corner of his eye because he stops what he's doing and looks up. "Cas," he says as a way of greeting. As a way of greeting, it's pretty much the best way to start my shift. My name sounds like an incantation when it comes out of his mouth. One word and I'm unraveling.

     I can't unravel for Dres. It is pointless. I've learned that he's basically got the smallest emotional spectrum a person could have. He's also probably straight. 

     "Do you need me to do anything?" I ask stepping into the kitchen.

     "Yeah, actually. You can start filling the displays."

     He points to the trays of cupcakes that are already iced on the industrial-sized island in the middle of the kitchen. I try not to notice that Dres has an apron wrapped around his waist, or that there's flour on his neck. Why are these things that I'm noticing, I do not know.

     "Everything's marked in the display."

     I pick up a long, metal tray hesitantly, juggling it on the palm of my hand and shoulder. "What are these?" I ask.

     "They're banana with a chocolate almond frosting," he says distracted as he goes back to icing what looks like strawberry cupcakes. He's got an arrangement of flavors and they're all intricately decorated.

     I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic or serious. Can't ever really tell with Dres. I wait, to see if he'll say something more but he doesn't so I head into the front to start filling the display.

     Sure enough there's a little placard in the first row that says 'Nut Your Regular Banana' with a description that matches the cupcakes I'm holding. I nearly drop the tray, swallowing down my laughter. I can't seem to reconcile the version of Dres I know and the version of him that named a cupcake something so cleverly vulgar.

     Dolores pops up as I'm finishing unloading the tray, carrying two sleeves of to-go cups. She stacks them on the back counter near the coffee machine. "We're almost officially opened," she says excitedly. I grin. I haven't even been working here long and I'm excited to see the place come to life. I can only imagine how she and Dres must feel.

     Dolores moves to flip the open sign on the door as I head back to get another tray from Dres. I slide the empty tray onto the counter and grab another. "That's a coffee butter cream," he says without even looking up from what he's doing.

     "Okay," I respond as I walk out and go to fill the case. Dolores passes by me in the hallway, heading towards the kitchen. She offers another energetic smile.

     I start placing the coffee cupcakes; their placard reads 'Espresso Your Love.' More information to add to the conundrum that is my boss. I've got a running list of things — tattoos and piercings so he's edgy, only plays music released before the Challenger explosion so he has taste, maybe is a bit of music snob, all muscle so he's generally active, and bakes cupcakes that he gives witty names to making him, what, creative? Uncaring of gender norms? Fuck the patriarchy? 

     The chime of the door opening steals my attention and I almost drop a cupcake. It's a customer. Three women walk in wearing business suits. They glance around the store curiously before landing on me, behind the counter.

     "Hi, are you open?" one of the ladies asks and I nod my head enthusiastically.

     "Officially open for business as of a minute ago," I tell her as I walk over to the register and wait for their orders.

     They stare at the menu so I give them a few minutes to digest it. Dolores brewed the different coffee roasts since I'm shit with the machine (even though Dres took the time to teach me how).

     Dres walks in carrying two trays of cupcakes as they continue to peruse the menu. I roll my eyes at how easily he balances two trays while I struggled with one. It's a ridiculous display of his strength and I refuse to be impressed by it.

     "Oh, those look delicious," one of the women says pointing to the tray of cupcakes that have small pieces of...bacon? Is that bacon on a cupcake? "What flavor is that?"

     Dres joins me behind the counter and opens the display so he can fill it. He answers her as he works, "It's a maple cinnamon base with a maple cream cheese."

     "Ooh that sounds delicious," she responds stepping closer to the display. She peers at all of the cupcakes. "Are they made here?" she asks.

     "Yes," I say nodding eagerly. "That's the Chef, actually." I start to point at Dres but he's already turned and started walking out. "Or, was the Chef, anyway."

     I mentally add to the list that is my boss — doesn't care for the spotlight so modest or humble, maybe.

     "We're ready to order," one of the ladies says.

     I do my best to remain calm as I fill three cups of coffee, working hard not to mess it up. One's a latte and I work the machine the way Dres taught me. It's easy enough.

     I ring them up and they pay before leaving with content smiles on their faces. Dres returns with another tray. Jesus. He must have been here at the crack of dawn baking.

     I add: strong work ethic, potentially never sleeps, maybe needs to learn how to let loose (or needs someone to teach him?)

     I don't say anything as I help him fill the display. Sometimes silence is good between us.