could use a little kindness."
Hannah's face hardened, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she took a step back, clearly deciding it wasn't worth continuing the argument. She walked to the counter, her posture stiff, and placed her order. The barista, Georgia, gave her a polite smile and began preparing her drink.
I watched her for a moment longer before turning to leave. As I stepped out into the cool evening air, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. Sure, I had stood my ground, but the whole encounter had left a bad taste in my mouth.
Back on campus, I tried to shake off the lingering tension. I had a shift at the bar soon, and I needed to focus. The bar was a whole different world, one where I could forget about the petty dramas of the day and lose myself in the rhythm of pouring drinks and making small talk with patrons.
But as I walked, my thoughts kept drifting back to Hannah. There was something about her that got under my skin, something that made me want to prove her wrong. She thought she had me all figured out, but she didn't know the half of it. She didn't know what I'd been through, what had shaped me into the person I was today.
The bar was already bustling when I arrived, the usual crowd of students and locals filling the space with noise and laughter. I slipped behind the counter, nodding to my coworker as I took over.
Hours passed in a blur of drink orders and casual conversations. I was in my element here, the familiar routine grounding me and helping me forget the day's annoyances. But every now and then, I'd catch myself thinking about Hannah, wondering what her story was.
As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin out. I leaned against the counter, taking a moment to catch my breath. My thoughts wandered once more, this time to the possibility of running into Hannah again. Would she still be angry? Would she avoid me altogether?
I didn't have long to ponder. The door swung open, and in walked Hannah. She spotted me immediately, her expression unreadable. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the noise of the bar fading into the background.
Then, to my surprise, she walked up to the counter. "Hey," she said, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it.
"Hey," I replied, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you here."
She shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Needed a drink. Long day."
I nodded, grabbing a glass and starting to mix her order. "Tell me about it."
As I handed her the drink, our fingers brushed, and I felt a strange jolt of connection. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw something other than anger in her eyes. There was a hint of vulnerability, a glimpse of the person behind the tough exterior.
"Thanks," she said, taking the drink. She hesitated for a moment, then added, "And... sorry. For earlier."
I was taken aback, but I nodded. "No worries. We all have our moments."
She gave a small smile, and for the first time, I felt like maybe there was a chance for us to see eye to eye. As she walked away to find a seat, I couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring.