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It's a boring boring boring boring day. He's so bored that he's organized the ketchup packets by presumed amount of ketchup inside, cleaned off every spoon at least twice, and even counted the stitches in his apron.
He's on stitch 2,127, kind of afraid he's screwed up and has to restart, but then she walks in.
Oh no, it's not to order something from him, instead she sits down across from his register and takes out her phone to start texting. He watches her cross her legs and actually holds his breath as her skirt exposed just a little more skin. God had a field day with her: sharply cut purple hair, dark angled eyes, small but cute pink lips, not much in the chest area, but damn were her legs fine, wrapped in tight fishnets that'd capture the gaze of anyone crossing her path. Punk rock's never looked so hot before.
He swallows his sudden emotions and starts to look through the glass at the people passing by outside. No one even gave him the time of day. Screw this he thinks bitterly. He turns around, looks over at the shiny espresso machine, and his eyes rest on the radio connected to the speakers overhead. He gets an idea.
She's staring down at her phone, waiting for her friend to tell her where she's at, when she hears the sound of deep bass riffs. Does she recognize the song? No, but whoever's playing it has good taste, it sounds like something she'd listen to. Her foot starts tapping impulsively to the beat.
He notices her foot tappings and is instantly satisfied. This song is one of his favorites, so his foot starts tapping too. He imagines himself being a suave, confident badass and offering to dance with her, to which she gladly accepts, and they cut a mean rug together in an imaginary club, and then in the banquet hall after their wedding. He bets she'd look drop dead gorgeous in a wedding dress.
Before he knows it the song is over, and she's glancing over at the machine, hopefully she's planning on ordering a drink so he can get her name and her number. He goes ahead and picks another song, one his dad showed him when he was a kid. He feels a twinge of nostalgia as the ballad plays, and it seems like she recognizes this song too, as now she's added little head sways along with her feet tapping to the rhythm. She's probably some kind of musician if she can do both things at the same time.
He plays a few more songs, each one varying in genre. But from rap to hard rock to R&B she's there with the beat. Eventually he decides to get a little cocky and play a romantic song. She looks up at the speaker and shrinks a little. She's twirling her hair with a blush on her face, and her foot starts tapping again. His heart nearly stops. That's so damn cute.
She stops as the music fades and looks at her phone, and gets up. His heart starts to sink, but it immediately picks up and starts to beat wildly as she walks over to the register and starts to speak.
"Can I get a large drip coffee?" She says. He nearly misses this order he's so taken aback by her up close beauty, but he nods curtly and gets to work making the drink, which is pretty simple in hindsight.
"Can I get your name?"
"Kyouka" she blinks, "do you really need my name though? No one else is here."
"Oh, ha, I guess you're right." Kyouka Kaminari he thinks. He likes the sound of that immensely.
Once the machine stops pouring coffee he takes the nearly full cup and asks, "do you want room for milk?"
"Yeah, just a bit is fine." He pours out some of the coffee and seals it with a lid. With a sharpie he writes down her name and hesitates for a second before scribbling something else and then crossing it out. "One drip coffee!" He calls out jokingly.
She giggles, and as he calls out "drip coffee here, folks!" He thinks about how he could make her laugh forever.
"Here," she says with a grin. In her other hand is a five dollar bill. He pushes it back.
"It's on the house," he says.
"Are you sure?"
"I saw you jamming out to my music, so yeah." She instantly blushes again and thanks him for the drink. Someone else walks in, a girl with a wild ponytail of black hair and dark, but kind eyes. She looks like a model. He squints a little.
"Jirou-chan! I'm so sorry I'm late! Were you waiting long?" She hurries over to the only person not behind a register.
Kyouka shrugs, "I didn't mind," she says as she pours milk and sugar into her coffee. She stirs it up a little as the model walks up to him. He mentally prepared himself for the headache of an order she was about to give him, but instead of that she simply orders a small drip coffee and smiles. He smiles back and immediately fixes up her drink with room for milk and refuses her money as well.
"I gave your friend there one on the house too," he justifies. The model looks over at Kyouka wide-eyed, and looks back at him to thank him a million times. She hurries back to her friend and starts to whisper. They have a very hushed conversation.
After a few minutes he glances at the clock and gasps at how late it is, wondering what the hell these two were planning to do. Probably clubbing he thinks somewhat miserably, he imagines some gross asshole harassing Kyouka and him not being there to defend her. Honestly? She can probably take care of herself he determines, but he still feels upset. After two minutes the pair come up to him and thank him once more. He nods and replies "anytime," wondering if he could actually make good on that kind of promise. He watches them leave and sighs. This is some Rapunzel type shit he thinks, leading him to ask himself whether or not he thinks she'd be into Disney movies. At first it's a no, but then he thinks about cuddling while watching The Little Mermaid and he's blushing like an idiot.
His gaze is then drawn to the money on the table Kyouka was just sitting at. His eyes widen in disbelief. He glances around and then hops over the counter to inspect it. Attached to the twenty is a note.
There wasn't a tip jar, so we decided to leave this! Thank you so much! it said on one side. He smirks, but then he flips the note over.
Yo, your taste in music is dope. Call me sometime if you wanna listen to some real bangers X-XXX-XXX-XXX
With a deep red blush on his face, Kaminari vows to pray to the power of music every night after this.