to be young and in love in new york city
All things considered, Shi Qingxuan loves her life.
It might not be easy at times, but this was the same for everyone on Earth. She was no exception.
So instead, she does what she does best: retreat into her world of delusion.
Many would say it wasn’t the correct way of living (her brother and parents and family and even some of her friends, many people at Columbia University, customers who come into the coffee shop she works in, and probably a therapist if she ever had one), but it had gotten her this far, so it had to be a good coping method! If one were to remain delusional, then they would never have to look at the harsh conditions of the world and could continue to be merry. This way, she could see every day as a good day, and her life as a good life.
If she remained delusional, then she could not feel the stress of attending an Ivy League school, being the head of a committee that focuses on being inclusive of everyone who attends the school, and making an impact on the community at Columbia and New York City! This way, she would tell herself she would be one of the winners of the King’s Crown Leadership and Excellence Awards, and have her name included in the “Columbia Spirit” category and finally prove herself to her brother. And her family as well, she supposes. But mostly her brother.
However, some things did require her actual attention and being present: such as being aware of the time. And she was running late for work. She starts running, passing by businessmen and tourists, yelling out her apologies as she shoves past everyone. She had been late the past five shifts, and though Xie Lian was one of her closest friends, she could pick up on his exasperation on her continuous late arrivals, especially because he was probably alone for 15 minutes. Which, admittedly, is a long time for a coffee shop in New York City.
So, she runs, as quick as the wind. The people and locations blur past her, but she screeches to a sudden halt, making a middle schooler (who should definitely be at home) almost run into her back. She turns suddenly, and looks at the person in front of her. It was a man (or maybe not, who cares?!) and shouts, “Oh my god, are those the new Miu Miu leather pumps?! I was looking at buying those two days ago!”
They let out a puff of smoke, and assess her. “Yes, they are,” they answer. “But your Alexander McQueen High Tops are nice enough, even though they’re pretty ugly to me.”
“Thanks! They’re my work shoes, but I love them! It really shows off my personality, or at least a part of my personality because I can’t wear everything I want to work --”
The sidewalk light beeps. “Gotta go, nice talk, stranger!” and then hurries away. The Met comes into view, and she breathes a sigh of relief after checking her phone for the time. She walks past 991 Fifth Avenue, admiring it as usual. The Gilded-Age mansion has been on the market for a month, and no one has moved into the eternally classy building --except now?! She does a double take, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the sight of a moving company carefully moving pieces of furniture that make even her family’s fortune look like nothing.
“Holy shit,” she breathes. “Holy shit!” Who bought it?! Surely it will make the news somehow?! Qingxuan prides herself on knowing as much of what is going on in the city as she can. How has no one made a comment about who bought such a historical home, or have news headlines yet? What kind of person now lives here? Is it maybe a relative of the Kennedys, or the Rockefellers? Or maybe a member of the Rothschild family?
She doesn’t get to ponder even further when her alarm goes off. She yelps, and dashes further up the street, to the cafe she works at.
Liquid Heaven Room is set in a prime location. If you’re at the Met on a date, why not go get coffee? If you’re a college student looking for a place to work after a long day and an even longer night ahead of you, why not go get coffee? If you were strolling through Central Park as the nights get cooler in October, why not go get coffee?
All those situations aside, it’s always time to go get coffee.
Or make it.
She opens the door, hearing the tell-tale tinkle of the bell above her head. She can hear indie music crooning into her ears, sees a lot of college students, some she knows and some she doesn’t, squeezed into chairs, laptops and notebooks and earphones out. She’s pretty sure she sees one guy having a mental breakdown, glassy-eyed and red rimming around the eyelids. She flashes him a smile, but he stares blankly back. She continues on, and sees Xie Lian pop his head up, ready to greet who he thinks is a customer, but is instead her. His face relaxes, and she grins back, wide and excited.
She rounds the counter, the massive glass case in front of the counter showing all the pastries lit up. As she heads into the back, she hears the bell ring above once again, Xie Lian calling out a greeting.
Humming along to the music, she clocks in and ties her apron twice around her waist, taking in a whiff of freshly baked goods. Feng Xin is placing the next set of donuts into the oven, and sends an incredulous look to her, eyebrows raised. “Holy shit, you’re on time?!”
“Now, now, Feng Xin, doesn’t anyone ever tell you how charming you are when you’re surprised? Cheeks flushed and so cute!” Qingxuan exclaims, moving towards the man and reaching up to pinch one of his cheeks. He swats her hands away, looking even more frustrated.
“I can also see you’re still scared of women,” she says sagely, nodding. “That’s okay, because you’re gay and in love already.”
“In love?!” he yells. “With who?!”
“Why, one of our regulars.” She can’t help the boisterous cackle that comes from her. “How is Officer Mu Qing today?!” She also can’t help but wiggle her eyebrows.
“Officer Mu Qing?!” he screams. Shi Qingxuan is positive everyone in the cafe is able to hear him, even with headphones at top volume. “He is the last person--”
Just then, Xie Lian comes into the back, his lips pressed into a thin smile. “Qing-qing, would you mind lending me a hand up at the front?”
Getting scolded by Xie Lian, no matter how it was delivered, could make anyone feel bad. “I’m sorry, I’ll come out right now.”
“Good,” he says, and walks out, Qingxuan following after him. “By the way, Feng Xin, Officer Mu usually comes at the same time. Look at the time, it’s almost 5:30.”
Qingxuan snickers as she follows Lian, sticking her tongue out at her coworker. He flips her off, and then goes back to placing the croissants he finished prior to her entrance onto the trays. She can’t help but feel giddy when she sees his agitated state.
Immediately, they get into work. Xie Lian and her probably go through fifty orders in thirty minutes, including the people coming up to order again and some new people trickling inside. As there is a lull in between, she tells Xie Lian about her newest ideas.
“So you know how I organized the Ball Dance Club’s extension to the public this upcoming Friday? I’m wondering if I should dance there, too. I mean, I am the one who started this. I might as well show my own support by dancing myself, you know?!”
“Well, how are your dancing skills?” Xie Lian asks, scrubbing his hands free of the steamed milk which overflowed and burnt his hands. She shakes her head at his actions. He truly had the worst luck of anyone she had ever met.
“It’s 50-50,” she says as she continues wiping down the counter the milk was spilled on.
He turns and arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure it’s 50-50, or are you just saying that?”
“No, Lian!” she protests. “I promise you, it is 50-50! I’ve only made half of my dance partners refuse to dance with me again! The other half declared I was amazing to dance with!”
“Being amazing to dance with and being an amazing dancer are two separate things,” he says mildly. Qingxuan is about to protest, when the bell rings. “I’ll take the order if you make the drink?” Without waiting for an answer, Xie Lian walks to the register.
Shi Qingxuan usually has to poke her head up and stand on her tiptoes in order to see the customers. When she was younger (okay, admittedly the day before, but isn’t she older than then?!), she wanted to be tall enough to be qualified as a model. Alas, the tall height gene in her family skipped her. Considering every single person in her family, male or female, was at least 5’7”, she never understood why she also wasn’t. Even her cousins, ten years younger than her, were about to be taller than her.
She watches as the man rounds the counter, standing in front of the glass case and register. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the person in front of Xie Lian. He was at least 6’0”, cheekbones one could cut themselves on, prominent jawline, broad shoulders and lanky frame, and, most of all, dressed in a Kiton maroon suit. He also wore an eyepatch, but hey, who is she or anyone to say anything? His hair was a bit long, black as midnight, and his one visible eye was almost a reddish brown.
Oh, god, I think I’m gonna pass out. She tried to peek at what kind of shoes he was sporting as well, because there is no way it wasn’t Prada’s newest loafers. Or maybe Gucci’s newest Chelsea boots? Either way, it has to be very stylish. Damn, he’s handsome! It was obvious to anyone he was filthy rich, but it becomes sickeningly obvious why he’s here of all places when he sees the way he looms over the counter, looms over Xie Lian.
She thought it was to intimidate him at first, but she trained her eyes on his face. And, maybe to no one else, least of all someone as oblivious as Xie Lian, she saw it.
The look on his face was hungry. She imagined a graceful antelope standing alone, not aware of the lion that is crouching between the high grass, eyes trained and ready to pounce and feast. And that look is trained on Xie Lian. This mystery man was so clearly captivated by her coworker that if anyone took a closer look they could see the gaze was the equivalent of having fangs bared at you.
“San Lang!” Xie Lian says warmly. “It’s nice to see you again. I wasn’t sure if you would come back again.” Whenever Xie Lian smiles, it takes over his face, eyes becoming crescent moons, and white teeth flashing. She had always found him so pretty, in the effortless but simple way he dresses, to his soft and rounded face, and big eyes. He was awkward and endearing all at once.
“Of course I was gonna come back,” the man (apparently San Lang?) answers, voice low and captivating. But if you were to look at his eyes, this San Lang was smitten. His eyes glowed at her friend’s words, as if the idea of not coming back was offensive to his besotted disposition. “How could I not? Gege did so well.”
Shi Qingxuan can’t help the noise that comes out of her mouth, and she knows she most likely looks shocked. She can feel her jaw dropping, but can’t stop it. What kinky ass bitch is flirting with one of her best friends?! He’s trying to take Lian’s virginity!
He feels the man turn in her direction, and she pales as she sees the sharp eye focused on her. Not only was the man dressed expensively and exuding confidence and power, his gaze was terrifying. He had the kind of eye that could make even the bankers near Wall Street run away with their tails between their legs. And the look was zeroed in on her. Gone was the adoration he had when he was focusing on Xie Lian. She begins to sweat, and Xie Lian saves her by saying, “San Lang, I’m sorry, I try to remember orders but this is your fourth time here. What is it that I can get for you today?”
Immediately, San Lang snapped his head towards her best friend, features melting into a puppy-like excitement when spoken to. “It’s no issue, gege.” God, he’s saying gege?! “For today, hmm…what is it that you like to drink?” His question may sound innocent, but there is something sensual about the way he’s speaking. Like a purr from a tiger, arrogant and pleased.
“It depends on my mood, though I suppose I always get iced americano.”
“Do you?” asks the man breathlessly, staring down at him like every word that comes from those lips was holy. “Then I’ll have that.”
“Alright,” Xie Lian hums, placing the order in the system. “That’ll be $4.47.”
Shi Qingxuan is screaming on the inside as she watches this “San Lang’s” fingers touch Xie Lian’s hand for longer than a regular transaction, his pointer brushing against Xie Lian’s pulse on his wrist. She watches Xie Lian’s face flush for a second, before he swipes the card and almost shoves it back, as he turns around and walks away. “We’ll get started on it, thank you!”
She sees Xie Lian turn to her, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, gaze flickering around as he begins the drink. She looks up in time to see San Lang’s smirk but soft eyes, before she makes herself busy as well. She doesn’t fancy being clearly in the way of something, whatever the hell this was.
She begins singing softly to the song playing, as she stands next to her best friend. “Anywhere else is hollow, begging for you to take my hand, is that your man?!” she hisses, grabbing onto Xie Lian. He resolutely doesn’t look at her, but he’s even clumsier than more, the espresso shots falling over his fingers. She winces at the sight, and pulls back his fingers before he gets a third degree burn.
“He’s not my man!” he hisses back, but he peeks up to where San Lang is. Qingxuan looks up with him and they see San Lang staring back at them, no shame in getting caught.
“Not yet,” she corrects. “Dude, he’s clearly obsessed with you!”
She takes the drink from his shaking hands, pouring in the ice and water and swirling the cup around while she walks back to Xie Lian so he can do the hand-off with his suitor. She watches as they speak, and then San Lang goes into his pocket, fishes out his wallet, and puts three hundred dollars worth of cash into the tip jar.
Holy shit?!
“San Lang!” he cries, reaching across the counter and grabbing onto the man’s arm. He looks up at him, and says, “This is too much! This is a tip for coffee, not a date at Le Bernardin!”
San Lang, looking like he was listening to every syllable that fell from Xie Lian’s lip, nodded. The smirk that had touched his lips never left, but he sounds very sincere when he says, “So you would want to go on a date with someone to Le Bernardin?” He pulls out his phone, and Shi Qingxuan can’t help but let a squeal out. She covers her mouth, utterly enraptured at the literal fanfiction trope her best friend is living out in front of her. This man was about to take her best friend to Le Bernardin?! After how many times have they met, Lian mentioned, four times?!
`What the fuck is she witnessing?
“No!” Xie Lian cried out. In true New York fashion, only two people looked up to see what was going on. “I wouldn’t!”
If San Lang truly was a puppy, his tail would stop wagging and his eyes turn pleading. “Okay.” A pause. “What kind of date would you want to go on? With someone, in theory?”
Thankfully, yet also unfortunately, the bell rings, and the oven in the back goes off, and Qingxuan has to pull herself away from watching her best friend completely make a fool of himself in front of some rich man who is clearly in love with him. She sees Feng Xin behind the backroom’s glass door, working on the baked goods, so she takes all their orders. More people come in, and she calls out a greeting and begins to register their orders as well. At some point, Xie Lian panics, and says, “Goodbye! Have a good night!” and promptly turns away. San Lang lingers, but eventually leaves the cafe.
Feng Xin finishes reloading the pastry case, and the rush is over after three hours of trying to get drinks out as fast as humanly possible. They close at 11:00., and eventually it was 9:30 P.M, and so far, Qingxuan remembers, Mu Qing hasn’t made an appearance.
“Hey, Feng Xin, have you noticed your boyfriend hasn’t come tonight?”
Watching Feng Xin’s body tense and brow twitch almost made the hot coffee he threw in her direction worth it.
Most of the people were gone by 10:30, and the few people who walked up were given as many pastries as they wanted, because fresh batches were made every shift. (Not by her. They put her on a pastry shift one time, and when she arrived at 3:00 A.M. to begin opening for 5:00, she forgot to set a timer and fell asleep on the desk in the back. She woke up to the fire alarm going off, all pastries for the morning burnt, and Mei NianQing was pissed. At least he didn’t fire her.)
She sees the last NYU student pack up their belongings, toss their coffee cup in the trash, and leave. Her sight lingers on their bag, being reminded of her own work that needs to be finished. She takes a sharp breath in, closing her eyes.
The stress of being a student was overwhelming sometimes, if only because of the way her entire family and their upper class world was watching her. Excellence was expected from her, and has been since her birth. When you grow up in a home where there is a golden child, they will always be a golden child. When you are born to a family that takes pride in their intellect, anything short of genius was a disappointment.
Some of her earliest memories as a child revolve around her brother. And how could it not, when he controlled her better than their own parents? He was obsessed with appearances and manners and knowing what a person had to offer. And so, when he got into several Ivy League colleges, their parents were pleased. Qingxuan can’t remember a single time in which their parents were ever pleased with her. They forced her to watch how her brother was the standard, and anything below his own accomplishments would be held against her for the rest of her life.
When Wudu chose to attend Columbia, she accompanied him as he unloaded into the apartments their parents bought for him. It was located in Chinatown, closer to the more affluent East Village streets. She tags along after him as he wanders around Manhattan, as he goes into fancy restaurants and designer stores, being told to be quiet when he walks around Columbia University on his own tour. He told her to leave when he was meeting up with other students whose parents were their parents' friends as well.
And she remembers seeing the pretty buildings, remembers walking through Central Park, remembers eating a hotdog from a cart on the corner of a street, remembers seeing all the most beautiful women in the world dressed to the nines, strutting confidently and unbothered across sidewalks with overpriced coffees in their hands, looking like effortless models. Her own mouth had run dry as her gaze lingered all across their bodies, each curve of their waists, and skirts so short she felt like she was going to hell for the way they made her feel.
Women had always been one of her weaknesses. From a young age, her gaze followed the girls in her classes, and completely ignored all the boys the same age as her. She felt ashamed for the thoughts that crossed her mind, head ducking down when they turned to her and she saw the way their lips moved with each giggle that came out. She had never watched a boy with this intensity, had remained uninterested when her family would attend parties and vacations and dinners where she was expected to speak with boys and men. She had tried to swallow her disgust when they lingered around her, tried to speak over her, bragged about their successes and their hopes for their future, and how excited both of their parents would be if they both decided to go out on a date together.
She had always awkwardly laughed and made a joke of it, and most of them grew annoyed or upset with her lack of care. But their sisters, their girl friends, even sometimes their mothers, made her head spin and her senses flooded with sweet perfume and hazy eyes as she listened to each beautiful voice as if it was an angel speaking to her.
It was easy to pick Columbia because of the culture in New York and her own secret desires which would never occur. The one time her mother caught her telling her friend that she “thinks she’s only interested in girls” her mother had screamed at her, gripped her arm and told her to never speak of such things ever again. Her mother had made a show of it in front of her father and brother, who were equally disgusted with her. Qingxuan remembers crying for days.
So, she packed up her belongings and moved as well, though for different reasons. Columbia required an outstanding amount of work and time, but it was undeniable that it was one of the best schools to attend in the country. She had moved in with her brother, who had been out of university and was almost finished with his Masters degree. She was finally, finally away from her stifling parents, and now alone with her brother. And, in some ways, what could be better? He was there for her more than anyone else in her life. He never gave up on her, even if he was disapproving and grasped her with a too-strong hand to guide her in what he believed was the “right direction.”
The one leeway she was given was the ability to choose her own major; she immediately chose a Visual Arts degree. The two things her parents gave her as a creative outlet were making art and attending a ballet class (which she failed at). She was proud of her artwork and knew it was of a different level. There are some things there is no need to act coy over, and knowing her paintings were delightful was a fact.
She decided that with the move, she would seize every single opportunity she could in order to experience what the world has to truly offer. It is one thing to know you grew up privileged and do absolutely nothing to understand the differences of everyone in this world, and it is another thing to try to unite people and speak of all kinds of experiences people have endured.
This lead to her creating the In-Cahoots Columbia Club, in which she focuses on advertising opportunities to attend events, sports games, interviewing students in order to get their own opinions on the college, and organizing different meetups around the city in which the club seeks out the smaller companies around New York City to partner with. Another part of the club that she oversees personally is painting the crowds that come to the movements.
The club admittedly narrows in on positive rather than the negative, because as Qingxuan says, “there is already enough hatred in the world.”
Perhaps this club is also a display of her delusional views.
She finishes sweeping, and goes to the back to shake out the dustpan. Xie Lian is doing the dishes, and Feng Xin is locking up the cashier drawer for the morning shift.
Just then, the bell dingles. Xie Lian sighs, his shoulders sagging, as if he hadn’t been through worse in his life (this is quite literally the man who got every single furniture piece in his apartment off the streets and carried it all the way up five flights of stairs), and she can see Feng Xin’s forehead crease.
“I’m gonna go handle these tip-outs. Tell anyone who wants to pay in cash to fuck off.”
“I’m not gonna say it that way, but thank you!”
She heads up front, stopping in front of the cash register. A smile is already plastered on her face, “Good morning! What can I get started for you--”
And she immediately stops as she looks at the person before her.
It was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her entire life. It was no exaggeration. She was carved from the stone Qingxuan had painstakingly worked on, pleading for the gods to let her have the woman of her dreams. She is the woman who was made a human by Aphrodite.
Tall, was the next descriptive word that comes to mind. Very tall. She was around 5’11”, and she made Qingxuan feel like a dwarf. Her face was a dream, high cheekbones, jawline defined, hooded eyes that flickered from a light green to caramel brown with the lighting above them. Pink lips that were hydrated and healthy. Thin eyebrows, and a long, slender throat, skin the color of milk.
She wore all black. Qingxuan hated the way she looked in black, but the devilish woman in front of her wore it like it was something fresh off the runway, elegant and defined. A v-neck black sweater that showed a hint of her collarbones that Qingxuan would give almost anything to press her lips against even once, a pair of black trousers which were oversized in a chic manner, and a black messenger bag slung over her shoulder.
Qingxuan has been staring at the woman for much longer than socially acceptable, but her brain was fried and she couldn’t even think properly. The only thoughts were prettyprettyprettyohmygodohmgodgetaholdofyourself! Her mouth opened and closed several times. The woman is zeroing in on her with a bored expression, and she is very clearly impatient as she waits for Qingxuan to take her order.
“It’s not morning anymore.”
A deep, uninterested voice. Hearing the low voice, even when nonchalant, makes Qingxuan shudder. She could feel the goosebumps rise up all along her skin. Oh, how she wants to hear her continue to speak.
So, she does what she does best.
Deflect any awkward situation with an attempt at humor, and try to not fumble. “Right!” she squeaks out. She clears her throat, and looks down at the screen, face burning. “Well, it’s going to be morning in an hour or so, haha…”
“Can I order?” The woman abruptly says. She startles, staring up only to find that the woman’s gaze hasn’t left her.
“Yes! I mean, please!”
“I want an iced triple espresso shot.”
Qingxuan stops typing on the screen. “That’s all?” She blinks, mind trying to piece together how simple of an order it is.
“Yes.”
“Okay! Yes, not a problem at all! I’m sorry, will you be paying with cash or card?” She freezes at her own words, waving her hands quickly in front of her. “Sorry! We can’t do any more cash transactions for the day. It’s all locked up. I forgot. So only card. I hope that’s not an issue, if it is I can go back and get some --”
“It’s not,” the woman cuts her off. Qingxuan realizes she had been holding her card in her hand all along. “How much is it?”
“It’s gonna be $2.67,” she chokes out.
“Great.” The tone indicates that it is, in fact, not great. She hands Qingxuan the card, and she can’t help but shiver as their hands touch briefly. If her face was hot before, it was absolutely flaming now. The woman’s hand was much larger than her’s, thin and as pale as the rest of her. Her fingers were long, and you can see all the ridges of the bones and blue of the veins underneath. Black nail polish, because she was obviously dedicated to her fashion sense.
Qingxuan had never understood when fictional characters describe the first brush of skin as electrifying, but now she does. The touch, no matter how innocent, no matter how casual, no matter how small of an action it is considering she does this with a hundred people every day, makes her squirm. The combination of the hands and hawk-like eyes were ridiculously attractive, and she could feel something pooling into her stomach. She taps the card, and returns it. “What’s your name? You know, so I can put it in the order?”
“He Xuan.” She was putting away her card, and the gnawing sense of ennui was practically reeking from her in a way that wasn’t good for Qingxuan’s heart.
“He Xuan,” she repeats, trying not to sound too lovestruck. She can see what everyone in history meant. Pygmalion and Galatea, Eros and Psyche, King Nebuchadnezzar II and Queen Amytis, Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. Stories of something irresistible.
Point is, she wants to hear He Xuan’s voice as many times as she can. She wasn’t sure if she would ever hear it again. There were so many coffee shops in New York City.
“I will get started on this!” As if there was anyone else to do it. She slams her palm against her head, something she’s done since a young age when embarrassed or someone did something cringe worthy in front of her.
It was then she realized that they had already cleaned the espresso bar, and vacuumed up the beans. “Sorry,” she apologizes out of habit, crouching down to grab a fresh bag. She knew Feng Xin would bitch about it later, but she didn’t care. Think about what to say, dumbass.
“So, what brings you in so late? Need something to wake you up before a party? Or a long night ahead of you?” The pastry case. Offer her a pastry. “And, would you like a pastry? On the house! You know, they have to be fresh, so we give as many as we can at the end of the night.” She looks at the case, seeing only two donuts left. Both pink sprinkles. Qingxuan’s own favorite, but she would give up anything for this to continue.
He Xuan's eyes were trained on her, burning her like dry ice. “I have a whole night ahead of me to study. I don’t party.” The tone was almost sarcastic, the underlying meaning being, Do I look like someone who parties to you? “And I’m good. I’m not particularly fond of sweet things all the time.”
“Well, you never know! Looks can be deceiving.” If you are straight, I hope I die here and now. That would be mortifying. It’s bad enough when people assume I’m straight. If I say anything more that is grating to her ears, I will kill myself. “What are you studying for?” She begins to grind the espresso.
“My midterm.”
“What for?”
He Xuan huffs. “I am in college to study political science.”
“Cool!” she gasps, brightening up automatically. “Isn’t that a bit boring though?” Way to fucking ruin it. Try to fix it while you can. “I mean,” she gestures with her hands again, “I could never. It’s not that I don’t respect it. I just couldn’t do something that requires so much thinking. Logical, technical work I mean. I’m majoring in Visual Arts at Columbia. It’s fun. To me, at least. I paint. It makes sense that you like your coffee strong. You seem like that kind of person anyways.” She’s embarrassing herself at this point, but when she begins she can’t stop. She hopes someone rushes into the cafe and shoots her.
“You talk a lot, don’t you?” There was a hint of amusement in He Xuan’s voice, so she looked up at the woman in front of her, head tilted slightly back in order to meet her eyes. They were still frigid, but there also seemed as if there was a twinkling of humor in them. Qingxuan knows she looks like a fish, mouth opening and closing. She steps forward, mesmerized, and then hears a harsh crack! She looks down, finding the cued shots poured all over her shoes, and the glass cup that collects the espresso shattered.
Mortified, she stares down. Her cheeks puff up and she presses her hands to them as if to make the humiliation she is feeling press down inside of her. “I am so, so, so, so sorry. Please give me one more time, He Xuan, and I will make your drink again.”
And then, just like a Christmas miracle, she hears a muffled laughter. At first, she wasn’t sure where it was coming from, when it hit her that only she and He Xuan were in the cafe. She looks up so harshly that she gets whiplash.
Sure enough, He Xuan’s fist was over her mouth, and she was trying to hold down a snicker. Qingxuan wants to lean across the counter, grasp her fist and bring it down, and plead for the woman to laugh for her, at her. But because that would be even too weird for Qingxuan, she just watches, wide-eyed. Her own face scrunches up in a triumphant smile, and she can’t help but beam at her customer.
Then, He Xuan clears her throat, and drops her face so it is once again resting flatly. “You’re fine. But I do need to get going.”
“Of course,” she answers, filling up the shots again. “So, do you go to NYU?” It was a light question, but in reality, Qingxuan is storing all possible information about the most beautiful person in the world in the back of her head so she can prove that this woman exists.
“No, Columbia.”
Qingxuan somehow manages to successfully pour the shots into the cup despite getting excited. “No way! Me too!”
A smirk pulls at the corner of He Xuan’s mouth and oh. “Yes, you mentioned it.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She deflates for a second before starting out again as she pours the ice in. “Well that’s cool, maybe we can bump into each other!” Please, for the love of God. “Or, maybe you can come back!” Please, for the love of God.
“Maybe,” He Xuan hums as Qingxuan passes off the drink. She leans slightly in order to grab the drink across the counter, and Qingxuan realizes that there is a smaller distance between their faces. Up close, she can see the flawless ivory skin, and the dark bags that are underneath He Xuan’s eyes. She was even more stunning, and when their fingers brush again she can hardly keep in her gasp.
“Well, I am the president of the In-Cahoots Club! This Friday, I organized an event with the Ball Dancing Club! Maybe you can come? It’s at Lerner Hall!”
A flicker of interest flashes through He Xuan’s eyes, but it has gone as quickly as it came. Qingxuan has always prided herself on understanding reactions and having a high emotional intelligence. There was clearly something that interested He Xuan, even if just for a second. Maybe she likes dancing? She seems like she’d be a stable lead. There is definitely no way she’s the one being led in ball dancing. Plus, she’s much taller than most women. A lot taller than me. It would be really easy for her to shove me over. Oh--
“Maybe,” He Xuan repeats, and her lips finally tug up into the smallest of smiles. Qingxuan feels like she won the lottery. Something tells her that He Xuan doesn’t smile much, and she desperately wishes it was the opposite. Maybe, the next time they meet (and dear God does she hope they do meet again), she can make the tall woman laugh and smile again. It was a mesmerizing sight.
Their time has come to an end. She tries to not show her disappointment, and she forces herself to sound cheerful as she declares, “I’m not gonna hold you any longer! Have a good night ahead of you, good luck with midterms, and come back any time!” Please, come back to see me. Maybe next time we can talk for even longer, and you won’t have to pay for any drinks, you just have to let me listen to you speak.
“Can I please have the leftover donuts?” Come tumbling out of He Xuan’s mouth. She didn’t expect her to linger any longer, but who is she to complain?
“Yes!” She quickly slides both donuts into a brown paper bag, and comes back. Right as she is about to hand it out, staring up at He Xuan’s face the entire time, drinking in the sight of her, she jerks her hand back. Narrowing her eyes, she questions, “I thought you said you didn’t like sweet things?”
He Xuan snorts, and leans across the counter to pluck it out of her hands. The noise shouldn’t be attractive, it wouldn’t be on anyone else, but it is.
He Xuan leans back, grabbing her coffee with the other hand. There’s something even more angular about her face, something even more mysterious about her gaze than when she first came into the cafe. “Maybe,” her voice sounds deep, like tar, “I have a sudden fondness for sweet things.” Something cruel is in her gaze, and Qingxuan feels breathless and as if she is pinned down by a predator. She sounds haughty as she adds, “I should get going. Have a good night, Qingxuan. Try not to be so clumsy next time.”
She can only watch in awe as she walks out of the cafe, Qingxuan’s hands slacking at her side.
“Qingxuan, are you okay?” She hears Xie Lian ask in the background. “Was the customer okay?”
“Yes,” she answers, not looking away from the door the woman who must have come out of her dreams exited from.
Xie Lian continues talking, but for once she is not fully there. It is like his voice is underwater.
Oh, how she wishes to see her come back to the cafe.