Chapter 1
Wake up.
Turn off the alarm.
Brush your teeth and shower.
Get your pre-made breakfast package to go that you would enjoy on the walk to work.
Open up the cafe you had been working at for going on five years as of this previous month.
Work sometimes up to a 10 hour shift, maybe 12 if someone calls out and the owner asks you very nicely, like always.
Close up.
Go home.
Eat your pre-made dinner while you watch the occasional show to pass time.
Sleep.
Repeat.
This had been your schedule for going on five years, with only a few dilemmas thrown into the mix just to throw you off. Sometimes there’s an emergency and the streets you would normally cross are blocked off and you have to completely go around. Other times you find that the weather makes you late when you have to backtrack and find an umbrella or a hefty enough jacket to survive the wind and rain. Other times you’re just waking up late and unable to get out of bed. But you always made it in and you always made up any time you were late. Maybe it’s why the owner liked you so much and while you were always able to slide a drink or two your own way through out the shift without having to pay a dime.
However, today you were on time and your schedule continued as normal as the door slid open before you hand could even touch it, the smell of spice greeting you.
“Mornin’!” The voice that called out was none other than your boss, the one you almost always worked with during the morning. He was tall, alarmingly tall actually, with hair long enough he had to bind it up and under the hat he wore for the shop. It usually came down later when you took over making up the fresh pastries or if his hair tie finally broke, again, but for now the brown hair was shoved and tucked neatly away. He wore the orange and black colors for the uniforms picked out specifically for the Fall month. That was one thing you found interesting about him; he adored the holidays. While Nueva York wasn’t a place known terribly much for people decorating up anymore, he went all out. Which is why even your name tag was in the lovely shape of a pumpkin, nestled right over your left breast.
“Mornin’.” You called back, your voice nowhere near as chipper as his. Jacob just huffed like he was almost offended that you were nowhere near as excited as he was for the morning, but he had definitely grown used to it over time. The display racks were already being lined with little treats he either prepared or had saved over from the previous day for display, most of which were orange or brown or white in some variation. You could smell a fresh brew from the back and something hinting cinnamon on the air as you slipped past the counter and into the back. The little office also served as your own locker room between the few employees there, with your own personal locker decorated by Jacob’s hand himself. Fall themed, of course, and you dropped in your personal items before picking up one of the aprons hanging on the side and tying it firmly.
“Do we have any orders for the day?” You called out. Over the low hum of music you could just pick up the faint sound of Jacob maneuvering through the kitchen. Appliances were humming to life and ovens were groaning when they were turned on.
“Just one so far. Picked up at opening, it looks like. Dozen cupcakes for an early meeting. I think it’s one of the suits down the street.” Jacob had never hidden his moderate dislike for the higher classed. No, not just the higher classed, but the suits who often stuck their nose up and acted as though tipping with a dollar would bring financial ruin to them. You could understand this, but at the same time you couldn’t find it in yourself to actually care about them.
“I can work on it.”
“Make up the icing I’ll get them baking.”
And like that, the routine began.
You almost had memorized just who would come through the door and at what time. It never varied much. Occasionally one of the suits or first responders lined in uniforms were late or early, which they often had an excuse on their lips like they were in the wrong when there wasn’t even a schedule to keep in the shop. You just smiled politely, took their order, then blended it up in front of them like a zoo animal. It was part of the theme of the shop, to showcase the espresso maker, the process of frothing the milk, to the drizzle of a syrup over it. A way to draw them into the process without getting rid of the magic completely. And they always watched like you were a circus performer on the ropes. You knew it wasn’t to watch you with amazement. It was to watch when you finally failed. It definitely inspired you to not fail in front of them, any of them. And the moments you did you didn’t even acknowledge it, brushing it off to be cleaned up or fixed without a pause.
Not giving a reaction was what seemed to get under their skin the most.
You said hello to Mrs. Kathy, a local school teacher who always came around during lunch or right before the school day started. Sometimes after if it had been a rough day and had no end in sight. The principal of said school, Mrs. Lacy, often stopped by on Fridays. She always had a date night on Friday and ‘needed that extra pep’ to get going for it. You never asked further, just laughed when she did. Mr. Carl spent his lunch in the shop itself, at one of the tables with two pastries and a warm coffee that always got cold before he finished it. He normally could power through it but other times he would shuffle up and shyly ask you to warm it up for him. You always did, despite this he was always shy about it.
Mr. Rolando was a construction worker who liked to get iced water and the occasional black coffee. He was simple and you liked that, especially when he made some light small talk. He was sweet and soft when he spoke, always taking his time like he was telling a story.
A few of the suits came through and you didn’t personally know their names. Often you just held the cup up and shook it to them and they were already waiting for it. Most of the time they were checking their wrist watch impatiently, tapping their foot as though your fastest could never be fast enough. Jacob and you often rotated out. He’d do the baked goods in the morning and you the coffee orders, then after lunch you switched. The evening depended on who was the most exhausted or frustrated from the public they’ve dealt with. This evening was Jacob, so he was given the privilege of hiding in the back as night descended on the city and you were allowed a moment of peace. It was brief, the lights of the city reflecting on the chilly rain that had started up. You always enjoyed this. The rain either brought people in or kept them away and with this steady downpour they were mostly staying away. Only your regulars came through and you were able to close off half of the sit in area, lights off and casting the softest warm glow. Propped up against the counter you were staring out the window, aware of lights flashing across your face as you squinted to make out some of the ads on the higher up signs, when the door opened.
Now this would be where your routine suddenly shattered with no hope of being fixed.
This wasn’t a face you’ve ever seen before. What you could see. The man wore a jacket, loose and unzipped to reveal the button up that looked mostly dried. The hood was pulled high and tight with the glint of his sunglasses reflecting outside and inside lights the only give away that there was even a face in there. His hand on the door was big enough to swallow the handle, the other shoved into a pocket. He wasn’t dressed casual like some of your regulars, nor was he dressed like a suit. The dress pants and shoes called to one while the rest of him called to another. But he definitely wasn’t someone you’ve seen before. You would have remembered someone who wore sunglasses when it was already dark outside.
The man shifted and looked around the room like he was looking for something in particular. It took him longer than it should have to lay his gaze on you, emphasized in how he raised his head further so light finally drew shadows across the dips of his sharp, gaunt cheeks and firm jawline. He was older than you. By how much you couldn’t tell, he might even be a little older than Jacob was.
“Welcome in.” You said and turned to face him as he approached. The closer he got with every calculated step the more you realized he was surprisingly tall too, filling the room up with his presence alone as he reached up to push the hood back. Tanned skin with the faintest wrinkles outside the eyes, his hair pushed back into wavy curls that fluttered up like feathers. He was frowning with plush lips and you were briefly distracted enough by them to not realize he had tugged the sunglasses off to squint rich, hazel eyes at you.
“I’ve,” He started and his accented voice was warm and low, like what you imagined a lion would sound like if it could speak. His lips hung open, parted just slightly as he hummed in thought. “What would you recommend?”
“Well, that depends, are you normally a coffee drinker?” He seemed shocked by your response, only slightly. Eyes dropping from the menu to you quickly and his mouth shutting with a soft click of his teeth. You were aware that your customer service voice might have gone out the window three rude customers ago, but it was also late and you closed up in the next hour and you weren’t about to put on false pleasantries for a stranger you might never see in the shop again. The man hesitated for a moment, then he shook his head. “Well, I would say avoid cold brews then, they taste heavily of coffee and if you’re not one for bitter stuff, it might just knock you away from them. We have seasonal flavors, but if you’re not looking for caffeine this late, we have chai…” You were trailing off after you pointed at the laminated menu on the counter. The man had tilted his head down to follow your finger, but at some point his gaze had shifted right back up at your face. When he didn’t speak you were certain he was about to leave. You had a few that did that, realizing there was too much for someone to experience all at once.
But he stayed and finally cleared his throat.
“What’s your favorite?” You were caught off guard by the question. ‘What do you recommend?’ ‘What is most popular?’ But you were never asked what your personal favorite was.
“Nueva Fall Latte.” You said it without really thinking, your finger traveling to the warm, caramel image of a drink. It was decorated out with whip cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon powder and you knew how to make it by heart. “It’s technically seasonal, but since I work here I get the privilege of getting to make it all year.”
“That one.” He stated. “Please.” He quickly added as if realizing how that may have come out. “Small, size, please.” You hummed and rang it up with a few taps. When you told him the price he held out a handful of cash, mostly ones that were wrinkled, and waved it off when you tried to return the extra few shoved into the pile. You tried, once more, and he took it just to deposit it right into the tip jar.
The latte wasn’t hard to make. One shot of espresso, frothed milk poured in, a drizzle of caramel on the inner ring of the cup, topped with a swirl of cream and cinnamon powder sprinkled atop. The cold foam snuck in was pumpkin flavored and helped overpower the taste of the coffee itself. When you turned you found he was waiting right where you had left him, having watched you the entire time. But he didn’t hold the look of someone scrutinizing what you did, but the face of someone who was fascinated. Openly fascinated.
It did a little something to your stomach you weren’t expecting.
“One Nueva Fall Latte.” You announced and slid it over. He was quick to take it and in doing so he brushed fingers against your own, which had goosebumps forming up your arms. “It’s hot, but the cream should help to cool it off.”
“Thank you.” He said it as he blew briefly over the cup, eyes half closing before he tilted the cup up and took his first sip. You watched how the muscles in his neck and jaw shifted when he pulled it away, tongue swiping over his upper lip to catch stray cream that had gathered. You should have felt some shame for watching the motion so closely. A spark jolted down you at the motion and you were quick to meet his eyes instead of focusing on his mouth.
“Oh.” He said and you felt worried. Worried? No, you shouldn’t have. It was a simple drink, it was always good, and he might not like coffee. You never felt worried if they didn’t like it or not, because everyone you made a drink for always liked it. Nothing about his expression conveyed immediate displeasure. He suddenly looked up to you and his lips faintly twitched, like he wanted to smile but his face fought the motion completely. “It’s very good.” Your relief turned into words that fell out before you could stop them.
“Come back tomorrow and you could try another one.” He paused in his next sip and you had to keep yourself from physically recoiling. You were never one to flirt. Never. Even when you first started and you had those few customers who tried to ‘have a word’ with you. Jacob often stepped in before things got too terrible on the rowdy ones, but never responding to their advances often played in your favor. Like an animal who wanted a toy, they often got bored and moved on. But you had never been one to initiate it. While you were certain this didn’t count as flirting, it was the closest you had ever been and it had you wanting to head to the back with an excuse that Jacob needed you. But it would have been too awkwardly timed and you decided not to, just held your ground. Mostly, you turned away from him to set to washing the cup you had heated up the milk in and made sure to keep your back to him. Even as you heard the cup hit the counter and the fact he hadn’t walked away yet. You didn’t turn around.
“I can’t…always show up before you close.” He started and you paused in wiping the cup with a towel. “My schedule, it fluctuates. Every time I’ve tried to come before, I’m always busy or…you’re busy.”
“Even if we’re in a rush you can always come in.”
“No, you’re busy.” He emphasized and when you blinked at him curiously you could see the mountain frustration on his face. “You. You’re…in the back or something, right? And…you’re busy.” He finished lamely. Pieces started to meld together by his wording and you felt the chills rush down your spine. He wanted to talk to you. Not Jacob, not the others who often came in and were definitely smiling more than you did, but you.
“Okay.” You said simply. What else could you say? You couldn’t ever recall seeing him out of the shop or even him entering the shop before. You would have remembered this awkward giant, but he apparently remembered you. “Okay, that’s…well, that’s fine, even if you show up and we’re closed, I don’t mind.”
“You don’t mind?” He asked carefully. You could see his grip on the cup fluctuating between nervously tight and loosely.
“I can always make you something as long as it’s not very late after we close.” You shrugged at his almost dumbfounded expression. You watched how his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed like he didn’t like this and you were growing more confused. “….Or you can drop in whenever you’re able to.” You suggested instead.
“I’m not always in the city either.” He started another excuse. You just shrugged again.
“Then drop in when you are. Look, nobody’s schedule is perfect and there’s a lot of people I don’t see for weeks, sometimes months when they travel for work, you wouldn’t be any different.” It looked as though the man had never thought of this reasoning before, his shoulders once tense and held up dropping suddenly. He sighed out his nose while closing his eyes, his hand bringing the cup up so he could finish the rest of it surprisingly quick. You knew it was still hot, when the pulled was pulled away and his lips parted you caught the hint of steam (a nice sight might you add). But he finished it quickly and nodded.
“Okay.” He nodded once more. “Then…I will see you around, right?”
“Here.” You caught the empty cup without pulling it from his grip and picked off the marker from your apron. You mostly used it to write numbers down rather than actual names on the cups anymore, as the stickers you printed came with them already. But here it was handy for you to scribble your number and name on the side where he could clearly see it. His eyebrows pinched together until you let go of the cup, then they shot up in clear surprise. This close, with only a counter to separate the two of you, you could pick up the sprinkle of pink threatening to decorate the tops of his cheeks. He fumbled with the cup before gripping it hard enough it almost caved in his hand. “Call or message me when you’re in town and I’ll make sure I’m ‘not busy’ that day.” While you spoke he looked between you and the cup. Then he nodded as if he wasn’t certain what words would suffice in the moment.
“I…okay.” He was digging and pulling on his sunglasses, readying himself to quickly leave when he stopped, pausing. “Miguel.” He finally said. Realizing you had never asked for his name, finding no reason to actually need it with him being the only customer. You smiled.
“Okay, Miguel.”