The coffee shop on campus was a necessity for Nicole. It had that artsy, woody vibe she loved—warm lighting, rustic tables, and the kind of ambiance that made her morning selfies look effortlessly aesthetic. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting a glow over the students hunched over laptops or chatting in hushed tones. She ordered the same thing every morning before heading off to her first class of the day, already knowing the baristas well enough to exchange a nod or a half-hearted smile.
But today, there was a new girl at the register.
Nicole sized her up in an instant. Red-dyed hair, though not dyed well—there were splotches of faded red along her neck and fingers, as if she’d done it herself in a hurry. A single tattoo sleeve on one arm, which felt unbalanced. A nose ring, but honestly, what barista didn’t have a nose ring? Typical artsy barista type. Nothing special.
“Hi! Can I just get a venti iced chai latte with cold foam?” Nicole rattled off, already pulling out her card.
The girl froze like a deer in headlights. Her gaze flicked to the screen in front of her, then to her coworkers, all of whom were too busy handling the morning rush to help.
“Uh—ye-yeah, yeah, of course! Just—just hold on,” she stammered, her hands hovering over the register.
Nicole’s brows furrowed as she watched the girl mouth her order under her breath, clearly struggling to find the right buttons. She let out a quiet huff, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face. There was already a line forming behind her. Great.
The girl was new. Obviously. But still, how hard was it to type in ‘venti iced chai latte with cold foam’?
“Sorry, it’s—it’s my first day,” the barista admitted, flashing an apologetic smile, fingers still trembling over the screen.
Nicole sighed, impatience creeping in. “Okay, um, can I get a name for the order?” the girl asked after what felt like five minutes of fumbling.
“Nicole,” she replied, lips pressing into a tight line.
The barista nodded frantically, finally ringing her up. “Okay! Um, that’s… five sixty-five?”
Nicole swiped her card and stepped aside, arms crossed, but she kept watching. The girl was even worse at making drinks. She fumbled with the milk carton, spilling some on the counter, then her apron. Nicole bit her lip to stifle a laugh as the barista’s eyes went wide in sheer horror.
Eventually, her drink was ready. She grabbed it and left, already shifting her focus to her day—until she looked down at the cup halfway through class.
Her name was spelled completely wrong. Like, beyond wrong. She stared at the scribbled mess in disbelief.
How the hell do you mess up ‘Nicole’?
The next morning, she was back—on a mission.
There she was. The red-haired, tattooed barista. She looked a little more composed than yesterday, but there was still a lingering nervousness in her posture.
Nicole marched up to the counter, jaw clenched. She shouldn’t be this annoyed over a spelling error, but it was the principle of the matter.
“Oh! You’re back,” the barista said, smiling nervously. Her hands weren’t shaking as much today. Progress.
“I’m here every morning,” Nicole deadpanned.
The barista blinked, then grinned. “Oh. Well, guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”
Nicole’s eye twitched. She wanted to punch that smirk right off her face.
“So, whats your major?” Nicole asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Art” The barista said, her eyes glued to the register screen in front of her. “Sorry–uh what did you order again?” She asked with a sheepish smile.
Nicole held back an eye roll as she gave her order again, watching her closely as she moved. She was still stumbling here and there, but there was a difference now—she was getting more confident. Less frantic.
Nicole received her drink, took one look at the cup, and immediately scowled.
‘Nickole’
Oh, she was going to kill her.
That night, Nicole stormed into her dorm and threw herself onto her bed with a groan. Her roommate, Bridgette, looked up from her textbook, raising an eyebrow.
“You gonna tell me what happened, or is this a guessing game?” she asked, amusement laced in her voice.
Nicole groaned louder, sliding her cup across Bridgette’s desk. “That stupid barista at the coffee shop? The past two days, she’s spelled my name wrong. Twice. Like, how hard is ‘Nicole’?”
Bridgette picked up the cup, eyes scanning the butchered spelling. “It can’t be that bad, I mean, how badly can you spell—oh. Oh wow.” She stifled a giggle. “That’s—that’s impressive, actually.”
Nicole groaned, shoving her face into her pillow.
Bridgette tossed the empty cup into the trash. “Why don’t you just stop going if it pisses you off so much?”
Nicole lifted her head, considering it. Why did she go back?
“It’s the best coffee on campus,” she muttered.
Bridgette shot her a knowing look. “Sure.”
The next day, Nicole walked into the coffee shop like a woman on a mission. The second she reached the counter, she planted both hands down with a sharp thud, making the barista jump.
“Well, hello again,” she greeted, smirking.
Nicole narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name?”
The barista tilted her head. “My name? Oh, it’s actually Bambi.”
Nicole stared. The girl was completely deadpan. She almost believed her—until she noticed the corners of her lips twitching upward.
“Bullshit. Tell me your real name,” Nicole demanded, crossing her arms.
The barista’s smirk widened. “I just did. What, do you not like my name?” She pouted playfully, and Nicole could feel her blood pressure rising.
She clenched her jaw and stomped away, only realizing she never actually ordered. Yet, minutes later, her drink appeared on the counter anyway.
Nicole hesitated before picking it up. There was an almost reluctant anticipation as she turned the cup around.
‘Nicknack’
Oh, she was definitely going to kill her.
She stormed back to her dorm and plopped the cup onto Bridgette’s desk.
Bridgette took one look at the name and burst into laughter. “She’s getting creative now.”
“She gave me a fake name! Wouldn’t tell me her real one,” Nicole fumed, flopping onto her bed.
Bridgette wiped away a tear, still giggling. “What name did she give you?”
Nicole shot her a glare. “Fucking Bambi. As if she could pull off a name like that. She looks like she crawled straight out of a punk music video.”
Bridgette smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. “You sure you’re just going back for the coffee, Nicole?”
Nicole groaned. “Shut up.”
Bridgette grinned. “Sure thing, Nicknack.”
Nicole launched a pillow at her, but Bridgette was already laughing too hard to care.
By the fourth day of this ridiculous saga, Nicole had to admit—this barista had taken over her life.
She stepped into the coffee shop, already annoyed. She had some stupid thing for one of her law classes, which meant she was stuck wearing a black pantsuit, her hair curled, makeup a little heavier than usual, and heels that were already murdering her feet.
When she reached the counter, she caught the way the barista’s eyes widened slightly, the tips of her ears turning pink.
Nicole wasn’t sure if it was the lingering effect of Ruby’s hair dye making them look that way or if she was just that hot. But, honestly? She knew she was hot shit either way.
“Gonna spell my name wrong today?” Nicole asked dryly, watching as the barista had already started making her drink.
“What? I never spell your name wrong! That would be cruel, Nicknack,” the barista said, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense.
Nicole huffed as she swiped her card. “Sure.”
There was a brief pause before the barista—suspiciously softer this time—added, “You… you look nice, by the way.”
It might’ve made Nicole smile, maybe even blush, if she weren’t still full of righteous fury about the ongoing name sabotage.
“Thanks,” she said, before narrowing her eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Oh! Good question. It’s actually Hades.”
Nicole’s jaw clenched. “Like the god? You think that highly of yourself?”
Ruby chuckled and nodded. “Sure do.”
Nicole opened her mouth to respond, but the guy behind her cleared his throat loudly, grumbling for her to hurry up. She stepped aside with an annoyed huff, arms crossed, waiting for her drink.
When it was placed on the counter, she took a deep breath and said a silent prayer before looking at it.
“Not Cool”
Are you fucking kidding me?
That night, Nicole stormed into her dorm and set the cup down on Bridgette’s desk before ripping off her painful heels.
Bridgette glanced at it and snorted. “Not Cool? Damn, she’s really making a statement now.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Nicole muttered, pulling on more comfortable clothes. “She gave me another fake name today.”
Bridgette raised a brow. “Oh? What was it this time?”
Nicole glared at her. “Hades.”
Bridgette nearly choked on her laughter. “Like the Greek god?”
“Yes.”
Bridgette hummed, twirling a pen between her fingers. “You ever think maybe she’s trying to tell you something with these names?”
Nicole frowned, considering it for half a second before shaking her head. “If she can’t even get my name right, I doubt she’s smart enough to send cryptic messages.”
Bridgette shrugged. “Just something to think about.”
The worst part? Nicole did think about it.
Because so far, she’d been given Bambi and Hades.
What the hell was she supposed to do with that? What kind of message was she trying to send?
Jesus. She wasn’t smart enough for this.
Nicole stepped into the coffee shop, her usual order on the tip of her tongue—
And then she froze.
The red-haired barista wasn’t there.
Oh.
Okay.
This was a good thing.
Right?
Nicole got her drink, and for the first time all week, her name was spelled correctly. It should have been a victory. A relief.
And yet… she felt strangely unsettled.
Like something was missing.
She hovered by the counter longer than usual, staring at her cup like it had personally betrayed her. The chai was the same. The cold foam was the same. And yet—
It didn’t taste as good.
Nicole shook off the thought and turned to one of the other baristas, a guy with bleach-blond hair and a too-bright smile for 9 a.m.
“Hey, excuse me?” she asked.
He turned, perking up immediately. “Yeah? What’s up?”
Nicole leaned in, lowering her voice like she was about to ask for state secrets. “Do you know where the red-haired barista is? And her actual name?”
The guy smirked. “She’s off today because of classes. And she told me to tell you her name is… Leonardo Dicaprio.”
Nicole blinked.
Then groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Just—just tell me her real name. Please.” She batted her lashes, tilting her head just so.
The barista chuckled. “Not gonna work, sweetheart. I don’t swing that way.”
Nicole huffed. “Fine.”
She grabbed her cup, marched out the door, and immediately whipped out her phone.
She was going to find her.
Because she was mad.
Yeah.
That was totally the reason.
Nicole’s first stop was the student center, where she found her best lead—Amber, who seemed to know everyone.
Nicole slid into the seat across from her, barely waiting for Amber to look up from her notebook. “You know that barista at the coffee shop? Red hair, tattoo sleeve, kind of punk-rock looking?”
Amber raised a brow. “Yeah?”
Nicole leaned in. “What’s her name?”
Amber smirked. “Why do you wanna know?”
Nicole crossed her arms. “Because she keeps screwing with me.”
Amber looked way too amused. “Oh? So this isn’t because you’re obsessed with her or anything?”
Nicole scoffed. “Obsessed? Please. I just want to know her name so I can complain properly.”
Amber tapped her chin, pretending to consider. “Mmm. And next, you’ll tell me you don’t check your cup hoping she spelled your name wrong again.”
Nicole went silent.
Amber grinned. “Oh my God. You do.”
Nicole groaned, shoving a hand through her hair. “Are you gonna tell me or not?”
Amber stretched lazily. “I mean, I could. But this is more fun.”
Nicole’s eye twitched. “You’re useless.”
“Love you too,” Amber called as Nicole stormed off.
Nicole’s next move was to scan the campus for anyone who might know her target.
She checked the quad. Nothing.
She peeked into the library. No sign of her.
Finally, she hovered outside the fine arts building. It felt like the kind of place a tattooed, nose-ringed, punk-rock barista would spend her time.
And sure enough—
Through the glass doors, Nicole spotted her.
She was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, sketchbook in hand, completely focused. Her red hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few strands falling loose around her face.
Nicole stared for a second too long.
Then squared her shoulders and pushed the door open.
Time to get some answers.
Nicole strode up, clearing her throat.
The barista looked up, blinking in surprise before a slow, maddeningly smug smile spread across her face. “Oh. It’s you.”
Nicole planted her hands on her hips. “What’s your name?”
The barista smirked. “Why? You wanna internet stalk me?”
Nicole scowled. “No.”
The barista hummed, tapping her pencil against her knee. “That’s a shame. I was hoping you’d find my old emo band photos.”
Nicole exhaled sharply through her nose. “I asked your coworker. You told him to call you Leonardo Dicaprio.”
The barista grinned. “Creative, right? Love his movies”
Nicole clenched her fists. “Just tell me your real name.”
The barista tapped her chin, pretending to think. Then, as if reaching some grand decision, she extended a hand with a smug grin.
“Alright, fine! Hi, I’m Alexander Hamilton.”
Nicole just stared.
“…That’s not your real name.”
The barista gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Wow. Just assuming things now?”
Nicole crossed her arms. “First of all, Alexander Hamilton has been dead for over two centuries, so it definitely can’t be you. Second of all, you don’t even look like an Alexander.”
The barista smirked. “And you don’t look like a Nicknack, but here we are.”
Nicole’s jaw clenched. “You are so infuriating.”
“Aw,” the barista cooed. “You do like me.”
Nicole spluttered. “I—what?!”
The barista chuckled, leaning back on her hands. “Tell you what. Keep coming back, and maybe I’ll tell you my real name.”
Nicole narrowed her eyes. “Or I could report you to your manager.”
The barista shrugged. “You could. But then who would spell your name wrong just to get a rise out of you?”
Nicole opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Because dammit, she was right.
The barista grinned. “See you tomorrow, Nicknack.”
Nicole turned on her heel and stomped away, ears burning.
She hated her.
Absolutely hated her.
As she left, the barista glanced down at her sketchbook, a quiet smirk tugging at her lips.
Because on the page in front of her—
Was a half-finished sketch of Nicole, at the coffee shop, looking adorably grumpy.
The next day, Nicole walked into the coffee shop, already bracing herself for whatever nonsense the red-haired menace had in store for her.
“Ah, my favorite customer,” the barista greeted, leaning lazily on the counter.
“My least favorite barista,” Nicole shot back. “What’s the name today?”
The barista smirked but, for once, didn’t come up with some ridiculous fake name. Instead, she hesitated for a second, then finally said, “Ruby. My name is Ruby.”
Nicole perked up, narrowing her eyes. “Is that actually your name?”
Ruby sighed dramatically. “What, you want my birth certificate or something?”
“No… but, like, a driver’s license might do,” Nicole said, tilting her head.
With a roll of her eyes, Ruby pulled out her wallet and slid her ID across the counter.
And there it was. Ruby Ramos.
Nicole’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit.”
Ruby snatched her ID back and tucked it away, grinning. “Gotta hand it to you, you’re persistent.”
“Well, I do get that a lot,” Nicole said, tossing her blonde waves over her shoulder like she was in a shampoo commercial.
Ruby chuckled. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
Nicole scoffed. “You’re the one who’s been giving me fake names for a week.”
Before Ruby could respond, another barista slid Nicole’s drink onto the counter. Ruby picked it up, frowned, and grabbed a sharpie.
“This is wrong,” she muttered, scribbling something on the cup before shoving it into Nicole’s hands.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and practically bolted to the back, disappearing behind the swinging door to the stockroom.
Nicole raised a brow. Weird.
She glanced down at the cup.
There, written in messy handwriting, was a phone number. Right next to a little heart. Call me.
Nicole turned the cup slightly, and that’s when she saw it.
Her actual name was scribbled out. Underneath it, in Ruby’s handwriting, were four words:
My date tomorrow night?
Nicole’s stomach did a weird little flip.
She looked up toward the back, where she could hear Ruby freaking out. Someone was laughing. Another barista called out, “Oh my god, Ruby, did you actually do it?!”
Nicole bit her lip to hide her grin.
Well, well, well.
Nicole didn't even hesitate to text Ruby after getting her number. Not that she'd been that desperate to go on a date with her or anything. She just… wanted to prove a point.
That point being? She wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge.
Or something.
Which was why she found herself at a tiny ramen place just off campus, sitting across from Ruby, who—annoyingly—looked really good in a casual hoodie and ripped jeans.
"Didn't take you for a ramen girl," Ruby mused, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers.
Nicole shrugged. "Gotta have standards."
Ruby snorted. "Oh, so now you have standards?"
Nicole rolled her eyes but smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "You did spend a week lying to me. Not exactly a great first impression."
"And yet, here you are," Ruby shot back, lifting a brow. "So either you're a masochist, or you secretly like the chase."
Nicole scoffed. "Please. You’re lucky I was feeling generous."
"Mm-hmm." Ruby leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. "So generous that you stalked my work schedule?"
Nicole pointed at her, a little surprised she found that out. "Okay, first of all? That was resourceful. Not stalking."
"Uh-huh," Ruby said, clearly enjoying herself. "And the fact that you asked around about me?"
"Research."
"The part where you pouted because I gave you a fake name?"
"I did not pout."
Ruby just grinned. "Sure, Nicknack."
Nicole groaned, slumping back in her chair. "God, I hate you."
"Do you, though?" Ruby challenged, her smirk softening just a little.
Nicole opened her mouth, ready to fire back, but for the first time since this whole ridiculous saga started, she hesitated. Because… maybe she didn’t. Maybe she never had.
Maybe she’d been so busy being frustrated with Ruby that she hadn’t let herself admit how much fun this had actually been.
And from the way Ruby was looking at her now—genuinely interested, genuinely curious—she had a feeling Ruby had figured that out way before she did.
Nicole cleared her throat, suddenly feeling a little too warm. "Shut up and eat your ramen."
Ruby chuckled but didn’t push it, and for the rest of the night, the teasing was lighter, the conversation flowed easier, and when they left the restaurant, Nicole realized she kind of… didn’t want the night to end.
They walked back toward campus, hands stuffed in their pockets, the air crisp and quiet around them.
"So," Ruby started, glancing sideways at Nicole, "was this the worst date of your life, or just in your top five?"
Nicole huffed a laugh. "Definitely top five."
"Good. I aim to be memorable."
"You're insufferable is what you are."
"And yet, here you still are," Ruby said, mimicking Nicole’s words from earlier.
Nicole groaned, rolling her eyes. "Do you ever let anything go?"
Ruby smirked. "Nope."
Before Nicole could respond, Ruby stopped walking and pulled something out of her bag.
"Here," she said, holding out a folded piece of paper.
Nicole eyed it suspiciously. "What is it? A contract signing my soul away to you?"
Ruby snorted. "Just take it, dumbass."
Nicole took the paper and unfolded it—and immediately, her breath hitched.
It was her.
A sketch of her, sipping a coffee, that same slightly annoyed expression she probably wore every time she saw Ruby at work. But it wasn’t just a rough doodle—it was detailed, careful, almost soft in a way that made Nicole's stomach twist.
She stared at it, unsure of what to say.
"You were drawing something at work," she said finally, her voice quieter than before.
Ruby shoved her hands in her pockets, shifting on her feet. "Yeah. I mean, you were sitting there looking all grumpy and cute. Seemed like a waste not to sketch it."
Nicole looked up, blinking. "You think I'm cute?"
Ruby rolled her eyes, but her ears had turned pink. "Jesus, that’s what you take from this?"
Nicole smirked, folding the paper carefully and tucking it into her jacket. "Well, I am cute."
Ruby groaned, running a hand down her face. "You are so annoying."
Nicole took a step closer. "And yet," she said, echoing Ruby’s words from earlier, "here you still are."
Ruby huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. Here I still am."
And then she kissed her.
It was soft, warm, and so unlike the way they usually were with each other—no teasing, no biting remarks. Just a quiet understanding that this had been inevitable.
When they pulled away, Nicole let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. "Fine," she muttered, barely above a whisper. "Maybe I don’t hate you."
Ruby smirked, leaning in just a little more. "I knew it."
Nicole rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Okay, maybe I never really hated you."
Ruby chuckled, tugging Nicole just a little closer. "Yeah," she said, pressing a quick, soft kiss to Nicole’s cheek. "I know."