Chapter 2: He's Not Angry

Sabrina's POV

I feel my heart immediately stop beating in my chest, terrified of how the next sequence of events will play out. Spilling boiling hot coffee onto a man's suit is not going to look good for me when my manager finds out.

When the coffee lands on the man, he looks at me with his beautiful green doe eyes. To my surprise, there is no fire or hatred behind them. They look blank and empty, staring deep into my soul. I want to shiver under his gaze.

I stand as still as a statute in front of this insanely handsome man, my mouth gaping open and close like a fish as I struggle to find any word in the dictionary to use to apologize to him.

"Are you okay?" The beautiful man asks, staring between me and the mess on his clothes.

The red headed lady watches on in shock, clearly unhappy to see the man wearing her drink.

I manage to nod my head. "Ye-es," I stammer, the word struggles to leave my lips.

"I'm so sorry that I ran into you," Green-eyes apologizes, taking in the mess on the floor, "I was too busy staring at my phone."

Did he just apologize to me? He's the one with coffee dripping from his tailored suit, not me. I should be the one getting on my knees and begging for his forgiveness, but my brain is in shambles.

When I look at him, butterflies dance in my stomach. He is so attractive that I can't look at him for too long in fear I might explode. Why does he have this effect on me? I barely know him from a bar of soap and yet I'm actively like he's a Prince.

"Don't apologize," I say, gesturing to the mess, "This is my fault. I'm such a clumsy person, so this is a prime example of that."

He frowns at me for a moment, looking me up and down in a way that should be creepy but isn't to me. It looks like he's trying to figure out who I am and that makes me nervous. What if he's being nice to my face but is actually going to get me fired?

Everyone around us is still staring, likely waiting to see if the man is going to blow his top when he sees his dark blue pleaded suit turning a gross brown color before our eyes.

"I'm so sorry about your suit," I gush, guilt washing over me, "Please let me get that cleaned for you or at least send me the bill. It's the least I could do."

The man waves me off, flashing a smile so bright it's almost blinding, "This old thing? This usually sits in the back of my closest anyway."

What a flex. This man must be wealthy if an expensive looking suit like that just sits and collects dust. With the way he dresses, acts, and speaks, I wouldn't be surprised if he is a billionaire.

The woman with red hair interrupts us, a look of fire behind her eyes. She looks between me and the man, clearly not understanding the exchange between the two of us.

"You might not care about the spill, but that was my drink and I want a refund," The woman demands, "This is unacceptable."

I hate how people who believe they're privileged and above everyone else, think they can demand whatever they want and have people do whatever they say. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of being treated as an inferior just because I don't wear a nice suit or work in an office building.

"No," My voice is quiet and calm, "I can't give you a refund, but I can remake your drink."

The woman looks shocked, her eyes wide, "What did you just say? I asked for a refund because of the mess you've caused not only in the store, but on this innocent man."

Just as I'm about to open my mouth to speak, Green-eyes steps between us. He pulls out a wallet from his pocket and extends a ten dollar note.

The woman stares at me, unmoving as the piece of green paper flaps between them in the slight breeze. I'm sure she's taken aback by his kindness, because I'm beyond shocked myself.

She gingerly takes the note and turns to me, "I still want you fired for incompetence. What's your name?"

It's a quick beat before I reply, "Sabrina."

The woman looks me up and down before thanking Green-eyes as she leaves with his money. Everyone inside and outside the store continue with their day, leaving us behind in their paths.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," I say, trying not to make eye contact, "I could've handled that myself."

He smiles, "I'm sure you could've, but I didn't want to anger the woman any more than she already was. Losing your job would be terrible."

He's right. If I lose my job, I'm f*cked because I have no other source of income. My parents can't afford to support me financially so I would eventually end up on the streets with no money or food. I need this job, no matter how much I hate it.

I sigh, "You're right. Thank you for being so cool about this," I gesture to his ruined suit, "Most guys would call me a f*cking idiot or say I'm useless."

Green-eyes laughs, "There's no point in getting angry over something as small as this in the grand scheme of life. Everyone is just as important as each other."

Is it weird that I'm low-key in love with this strange r? He's quite possibly the nicest, most caring man I've ever met. I didn't think men like him existed in this world, among all the hatred and violence.

I realize I'm staring at him, in my own world, when I see him wave his hand in front of my face. I bring myself back to reality and laugh awkwardly.

"I really appreciate it," I smile, "Please, let me make you a coffee on the house."

Green-eyes looks at his watch, his eyes return to mine, apologetic.

I get it. He seems like a very busy man. My heart sinks at the thought of never seeing him again. Asking for his number is way out of my comfort zone. Besides, he could be married or have a partner. I'll have to accept the fact that the only nice man on this planet will be gone forever.

"Oh, you probably only had five minutes, and I just spent them. Maybe another time," I utter, "You know where I work."

He smiles, "Trust me, I'll be back soon."

Green-eyes turns to walk away. I'm not sure if I'm ready for him to leave.

"What's your name?" I shout, waiting for him to turn around.

Green-eyes turns back to face me, slipping a pair of aviators over his eyes.

"Atlas."