The Stranger
It’s 12 am an do write this in an hour and this is the first fic I write on a phone. Enjoy
It was the night shift and barely anyone was inside the café. Luka absentmindedly played with a pen as he waited for his shift to end. He couldn’t wait to get home.
The door opened, snapping Luka out of his daze. A lone person walked in, all dressed up in a suit and tie at 2 am in the morning.
“One earl grey tea, please,” the customer said, yawning. A streak of dirt was on his face.
Luka silently made the drink. He handed it off to the stranger and they parted ways without saying a word.
…
Luka had seen stranger people during his night shifts, so the man from early soon left his mind. He had better things to think about anyway.
A month later, Luka was back on the night shift. He was left alone because his coworker bailed to go to some party on the other side of the city. That meant that Luka was going to be by himself for the next eight hours with nothing to do. Yeah!
Barely anyone came in, but right at 2 am the same guy from before walked in. He was still wearing a suit, almost he was about to go to a fancy ball but had to stop and get some tea.
“An earl grey,” the man said.
“Sorry, but we don’t have any more. Can I offer you a coffee instead?”
The stranger glared at Luka. “Coffee? Coffee? Are you trying to kill me? You dare suggest that I have that drink that thinks it is better than tea?”
“Chill out, Dude. It was just a question.”
The stranger grunted.
“Well, what can I get you?”
“Not coffee.”
Okay, time to get a hot chocolate for the grump, he thought.
He made the drink, putting just the tiniest drop of coffee in there just to spite him, and gave it to him. “Here’s your order.”
Maybe it was just the sleep withdrawal or the caffeine deprivation (he probably shouldn’t have made that bet with Lila) but Luka couldn’t stop staring at the strangers lips for a moment. He ripped his gaze away and turned around, blushing like a madman. What is wrong with me?
“That will be £1.52, I mean £3.52.” Luka silently cursed himself as he stumbled over his words. What was wrong with him today?
“Don’t even bother,” the stranger said. “You aren’t my type.”
Luka’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said. I don’t need people chasing after me.”
“I wasn’t thinking of ’chasing after you.’”
“Which is totally why you were staring at my butt.”
“I wasn’t- Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
The stranger raised his eyebrow but didn’t push it. He sat down, had his hot chocolate (which haha had tea in it), and left the shop. Luka went to clear the table, but he found a number written on the receipt.
‘Okay I lied, you are my type.’ A number was written under it. ‘Ask for Felix.’
