Page 12 of Cream & Sugar
I strip out of my sodden clothes and put on some pyjamas, before starting a fire in the wood burning stove. After thawing myself by the flames for a bit, I do a quick hoover of the living room before diving onto the sofa and switching on the TV.
Skimming through the channels, I can’t help but feel pleased with myself. I left the house this morning unemployed and facing eviction by my own brother. But now I’m a barrister, orbarista…one of those. Should probably double check. Plus, I got lunch and a hot choccie without dipping into my savings, all £1.62 of them. Not a bad outing overall. There’s no way Rory can be disappointed with me when I tell him the news. I can’t wait to shove it in his face.
Truth be told, I can’t stand coffee. I tried it once. It was bitter and horrible, and I can’t understand why anyone in their right mind would drink it. But I suppose I’ll have to pretend to like it if I’m going to be serving it every day. A small price to pay for a salary, I guess. Hopefully I don’t have to drink any.
I stick on some daytime telly and put my feet up on the armrest closest to the fire.Bargain Huntholds my attention for an impressive two minutes before I pull out my phone and start doomscrolling my way through Instagram.
The algorithm shows me the same old stuff: hot guy, cute dog, hot guy’s butt, another indie band doing another cover ofValerie, Henry Cavill, Henry Cavill’s butt—
Speaking of butts…
I open the search menu and type in “cream & sugar café.” Sure enough, a profile pops up. Immediately, I recognise the logo from the menus—a gold-embossed coffee bean on a black background—and tap it with my thumb.
A vibrant archive of pictures and reels pops up. I scroll down and see the café’s journey in reverse, from established coffee shop to building site.
At the bottom, I spy a familiar face in the account’s first ever post, dated four months ago.
Shaun is standing beside a mound of rubble, a sledgehammer slung over one shoulder, which he’s no doubt just used to obliterate the wall next to him. He’s wearing a white tank top and a dusty pair of jeans that hug his thick legs like cling film.
He looks sexy as hell.
After a good eyeful, I tear my eyes away to read the caption:
Who needs therapy when you’ve got a big hammer? Renovation is well underway down at Cream & Sugar. Here’s our manager Shaun getting smashy!
Getting smashy shouldn’t sound like an innuendo, like how “spotted dick” doesn’t sound like something you’d want in your mouth, but it does and it is, especially in the context of Shaun and his “big hammer.”
I tap the photo and see Shaun’s personal account has been tagged. Feeling devilish, I thumb his username, @shaunthecoffeeguy, and it takes me to his profile. His pictures are public, thank goodness. No awkward “@freddieyoung_music has requested tofollow you” notification. Might be a bit weird to follow your new boss the day you meet him, but lustfully scrolling through his pictures without his knowledge? Totally fine, obviously.
He’s not a frequent poster; most of it seems to be pictures of fancy coffees and nice food. A bit further down there’s a picture of a men’s rugby team and I spy Shaun in the back row, a big smile glinting from within his full beard.
I raise an eyebrow. A rugby lad, eh?
I scroll down a bit further and— holy shit.
There’s an action shot of Shaun from a rugby match, bulldozing his way through a player from the other team. The picture has well over a hundred likes, and no wonder. His T-shirt is doing nothing to hide the thick muscles of his torso and his shorts, well, quite frankly I’m surprised this picture hasn’t been flagged as pornography. The way they ride up his arse, giving me a full view of not just the cake, but the whole damn bakery, is bloody indecent—obscene even!
I zoom in. I defy anyone with eyesnotto zoom in. Shaun’s rear is so galactically chonky, it’s like a planet with its own gravitational pull. And here I am, a helpless space twink, perving from my rocket ship, unable to tear my eyes from the smooth round surface of…
I guess, Uranus?
I scroll through the rest of Shaun’s photos, looking for other hidden gems. One post catches my eye, something jarring amid the blur of images. I go back up slowly, looking for what I thought I saw, hoping I’m mistaken—
But no. There it is.
It’s Shaun with his arm around a woman. A pretty, auburn-haired woman in a biker jacket. She’s kissing him on the neck as he takes the selfie. He’s beaming.
My hand goes slack and I let the phone fall forward onto my chest.
A girlfriend? That’s a surprise. I could’ve sworn he swung my way. I guess he could be bi, but that’s irrelevant if he’s in a relationship. Freddie Young will do many things, but homewrecking isn’t one of them.
Still, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. I was looking forward to instigating a scandalous workplace romance with my hot new boss. Now I feel like a bit of a tit for being such a flirt with him in the first place.
I lift my phone and take another look at the photo. It has a hundred and fifty-one likes and a whole bunch of comments. I open them up and read a few:
Gorgeous you two! Couple goals!(15 weeks ago)
Lara looking fab girl xx(15 weeks ago)
