SWNOVELXO Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Grind Me Gently
The café smelled like roasted hope and bisexual tension.
Rhea stood behind the counter of Grind Me Gently, dressed in a slightly too-large T-shirt that said "Brewing Babes Since 2015," and regretting every decision that led her here—including, but not limited to, being born.
"Don't forget," Green Hair—real name Lark—whispered beside her, "the espresso machine has a name. It's Gertrude. She's moody. You treat her wrong, she'll foam your whole shift out of spite."
Rhea blinked. "You name your machines?"
Lark shrugged. "She earned it. You'll see."
As if on cue, Gertrude hissed out a violent blast of steam like she was personally offended.
"…Noted."
The café had opened ten minutes ago, and already Rhea was sweating. Customers trickled in: tech lesbians with matching nose rings, a mom with two toddlers in fairy wings, and a queer couple who ordered three drinks, kissed three times, and Venmo'd a $5 tip with the note: for gay survival.
Rhea did her best to keep up. Smile. Nod. Don't spill anything. Definitely don't scream when the register beeps like a heart monitor on Adderall.
"So what's your deal?" Lark asked between orders. "Student? Artist? Cryptic sad girl?"
"Broke," Rhea said. "Mostly just… broke."
Lark snorted. "Classic origin story."
By her first break, Rhea's feet ached, her left thumb had been steamed twice, and she'd spelled someone's name "Joone" instead of "June." (They were very chill about it, probably stoned.)
She collapsed onto a crate in the alley behind the café and checked her phone.
[Congratulations. You survived.]
[Emotional Stability: +2%]
[System Note: Barista life builds character. Also, caffeine dependency.]
[Random Fact: One of your future bonds visits this café. She hasn't noticed you yet.]
Rhea choked on her water.
"WHAT?"
[Don't panic. You are invisible—for now.]
[Observation builds understanding. Understanding builds connection.]
[Also, your eyeliner is smudged but it's working for you.]
Her pulse kicked up.
Someone had already been here? One of the 18?
She scanned her memory. Had she served them? Was it the woman in the tailored pantsuit? The tattooed biker with the coffee-black eyes? The tall one with the reading glasses and five rings?
Or was it someone quiet, someone easy to miss—like her?
Her stomach flipped. She wasn't ready. Not even close.
Back inside, she tried not to panic-scan every customer who walked in.
A group of NYU students. A drag queen in full face at 11 a.m. (iconic). A woman with short dreads and gold eyeliner who ordered an iced dirty chai like she owned the building.
Rhea fumbled the syrup count and knocked over the oat milk carton.
Gertrude hissed.
"You good?" Lark asked, handing her a towel.
"Yep. Totally normal. Just… very hydrated."
"You look like you've seen your celebrity crush in person."
"Not far off."
The shift dragged. Rhea kept her head down, focused on the drinks, and avoided eye contact like it was a crime.
Still, every customer made her wonder:
Is it you? Are you the one who'll change everything?
Or worse—
Will I have to change first?
Closing Time
After a full shift of pretending to be functional, Rhea stumbled out of the café with twenty-five bucks in tips, aching calves, and a sense of mild emotional achievement.
The sky had cracked open into a soft dusk. Warm lights spilled from shop windows. People buzzed on sidewalks like the city itself was exhaling.
She let herself enjoy it for three whole minutes before her phone buzzed again.
[Daily System Reflection Prompt:]
What did you notice today that made you feel seen?
Rhea scowled.
"I don't know. I didn't scream? I didn't die? A toddler complimented my hair?"
[Accepted.]
[Progress: Sufficient.]
She turned the corner to her building and nearly tripped on a cat sleeping in a pizza box. She apologized to it. It blinked at her like she was a disappointment.
Back in her room, she peeled off her café shirt, flopped onto her mattress, and stared at the ceiling.
Then, she opened her notebook.
"Chapter 3 Notes"
Didn't die
Coffee is hell
Someone saw me and I didn't even notice
Maybe I'm not invisible anymore
Maybe that's terrifying
She paused. Then added:
"I want to be noticed. But only by someone who sees the real me."
She closed the notebook.
Then whispered into the dark:
"Okay. I'm in."
END OF CHAPTER 3