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you're the best mistake i've ever made
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The smell of hot croissants and freshly pulled espresso filled Emily's senses as she stepped into her favorite coffee shop. Mozart's was a hidden gem, located just north of the university campus. It was quieter here, too far for students without cars to comfortably walk to, and too far away from the hustle and bustle of college life for most undergrads. Instead, the usual customers tended to be graduate students and locals that appreciated the cozy, causal atmosphere and serene, Japanese-inspired interior design. The abundance of natural light, hand-cut wooden table tops, and indoor greenery sure beat the fluorescent-lit conference rooms that were reserved for the Master's and PhD students.
She spotted a table in in the corner and set her backpack down, then headed to the counter to grab something to drink. It was late in the afternoon but not late enough to deter her from getting a pick-me-up.
"Hey, Em," the girl at the counter said, midway through restocking a tower of coffee cups. She looked young, or at least younger than Emily's own 26. "How's things?"
"Busy! Real busy. Finishing write ups and stuff, trying not to procrastinate too much."
"Ugh, you make me not want to apply for grad school! So much work." The girl wrinkled her nose and started tapping on a screen. "You want your usual?"
"You're so good to me," Emily laughed, her glossed lips breaking into a wide smile. "And it's not that bad, really. Not even as much work as undergrad. Just more independent, and at the end you get to be called doctor."
She slid her card into the chip slot to pay, then returned to the table as she waited for her order. As a second year PhD student herself, she wasn't exactly the most qualified to be giving out advice about grad school, but she always honest when people asked. It was hard work and a lot more writing than she imagined, but she did enjoy it; there was still a lot more to cover within her doctorate Anthropology program, though, and she wouldn't be finished for another three years.
One of the cafe staff brought her a mug--a dark chocolate mocha with a bear's face formed on the top with milk foam--and she took a long sip before pulling out her laptop. A myriad of windows were open on the screen along with too many Chrome tabs than one could count. And, just her luck, it was close to dying. Looking around for an outlet, she found the closest one next to the table on her right.
"Hey, is it alright if I..." Emily gently waved the laptop charger in the air and gestured to the outlet.
The man seated at the table only shifted his eyes from his own laptop screen to her, a barely imperceptible nod as his only response. She was almost sure she'd seen him before, both in the coffee shop and on campus, but couldn't place exactly from where. It must have been on the lower floors of the Patton-Grace building; there was a connected building and even other departmental offices in addition to the fifth floor Anthropology office.
"Thanks!" She flashed him a sweet smile, bent down and plugged her laptop in, and returned to her seat.
There was plenty of work to be done, both for her academics and her other job. A side hustle, as she liked to call it. Stealing a few glances around, more out of paranoia than anything else, she opened the Only Fans app on her phone. Six new messages, most of which were hellos from guys who'd tipped her the additional $150 in order to get unlimited messaging privileges. One was from a long-time fan, and she made a mental note to reply to all of them later that night.
She didn't mean for things to get to this point. Not initially, at least. What started as anonymous Reddit posting had earned her a small fanbase, and eventually she monetized her content on Only Fans. It was amazing what $14.99 per month would earn her, or "pincessmae" as she was known on the app, with a couple hundred followers plus any additional fees for VIPs -- the exclusive or personalized content that really brought in the cash flow. It wasn't enough to make her debt free, but it did pay her rent and allowed her to live comfortably and apply the abysmally low pay of being a TA to her tuition cost.
She scrolled through her posts, admiring the new photos she'd uploaded just last night. Side profile, showing off her lithe body in a lavender lingerie set, her long chocolate hair cascading down her back, and, as usual, her face cut off from view. She liked to take extra precautions now and again, like wearing wigs in some of her shoots, and it was crucial she hid this part of herself from her academic and professional life.
With only a small pang of guilt, she took one last glance and then tucked her phone away to focus on the laptop in front of her.
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