I'm working on a short story! Coffee, moody romance, and more! Here's a snippet
He always ordered the same thing. But today, there was a second cup.
I watched Kelcee make his usual: a hot oat vanilla latte, topped with a healthy serving of whipped cream. She set it aside on the silver pickup tray and immediately began a second drink.
“What’s that one?” I ask, trying to keep the confusion from my voice. She grabbed another espresso shot and poured it over iced chai. “Iced dirty chai with oat milk, cinnamon, and pistachio syrup. Flashy,” she said, glancing at me with a smirk. “Unusual for your guy to order two, let alone something like this.”
The plastic lid snapped on with a soft pop. Two drinks. One pickup tray.
I busy myself with another order, my eyes glancing over and over at the pickup tray until I see him in all his beautiful splendor retrieve the two drinks. His long black hair cascading past his shoulders, those thick lashes contrasting with the sparkle of his green eyes. They crinkle as he smiles, wide and toothy— who is he smiling at?
I hiss as espresso burns my fingers in my distraction. The extraction overflows beyond the rim of the demitasse, catching my fingers that hold it in place. Of course I burn my fingers—so clumsy of me, so—
I hear a feminine voice call out to me. I turn to see a woman worthy of his beauty. Her hair cut short into one of those bobs that curl inward at the ends, framing her face. Her big brown eyes overwhelm me with their intensity—strong, focused, resolute—as if to ask and who might you be in my presence?
She smiles at me, a reflexive smile, one of courtesy rather than care.
“I—I’m alright, just a little espresso burn,” I stutter over my words.
She gives me a small nod and walks off with him. He doesn’t look back. The way I so desperately want him to. His soft lips move to say something to her—
“Are you going to waste all that espresso?” Kelcee asks, breaking my thoughts as she points to the still-running espresso extraction. I turn it off, apologizing to her.
“You okay? Your crush, who doesn’t know he’s your crush, just walked off with some heifer,” she says, smiling playfully at me.
I smile a crooked smile at her, my lips tight-pressed, hiding my teeth. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call her that. She could be a nice person.” I say washing my mildly burned hand under cool water and wrapping it in a waterproof bandage.
Kelcee chuckles. “Sure, sure. She could be a nice person if she weren’t so snuggled up to your man—you should really tell him he’s your man.”
I lick my lips, wetting them enough to smile, showing a bit of my teeth. Dry lips, the result of drinking pints of unlimited coffee rather than water. I dump ice into a plastic cup, pour water, and then espresso.
“Iced Americano,” I call, as I set the order on the tray.
I turn back to her, wiping my hands on my apron. “I don’t know how to do that, and what if that girl is his girlfriend?” I ask, crossing my arms and hunching my spine—unconsciously caving in on myself.
She pulls me close to her, huddling us behind the espresso machine. She points a bright pink fingernail at them: my crush and his friend. We watch as they laugh at something one of them said. The woman opens her tablet and leans in as she shows him her screen. She points to different images, her voice light but firm. I don’t like how her shoulder almost touches his, her hair almost tangles with his, how their proximity makes me notice how good they look. His black turtleneck complementing her coffee-brown pinstripe blazer. Someone could take a picture of them, post it on Pinterest, and tag it #darkacademia romance.
“Nah, she’s giving me business partner vibes.” Kelcee says. “You have to go over there—free samples. Let’s give out free samples.” She says, hurrying to make a caffeinated drink of her imagination. Two small cups of espresso, mint cinnamon, milk, and chai. “Here,” She says setting them on one of our gold sample trays.
I take the tray from her, smiling one of my tight smiles. “There’s only two samples on here” I say.
She rolls her eyes and prepares two other drinks, which I know are entirely different from the first two she made. She sets them on the tray with the mint chai drinks facing away to prompt our targets to take them.
I’m nervous, but resolute. I want to find out who the woman is to him as much as Kelcee, maybe even get his name this time. I walk over to them, my silent steps quieted as my rubber Crocs press against the tiled floors.
“Excuse me,” I say, my voice a bit shaky. I swallow. “Would you like to try one of our samples?” I ask, bending a bit at the waist, shifting the tray closer to them.
He smiles at me, recognition on his face, that sparkle in his eyes directed toward me. I wonder how he sees me, how his green orbs take me in. Does he see me in moss-colored hues, a fairy floating through the forest leaving a trail of glitter in her wake, or the awkward heap of potato I feel I am? I glance at his shoes, my thoughts deflating me.
comment a coffee cup if you’re feeling it. :)
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