Chapter Text
Quad-shot, oat milk.
Medium quad-shot with oat milk, plain.
Medium quad-shot latte with oat milk, plain. Medium quad-shot latte with oat milk, plain. Medium quad-shot latte with oat milk, plain.
You take a breath and get out your card. The woman at the register smiles and asks for your order.
"Latte... uh, plain, with oat milk. Four shots."
Fuck.
She smiles and scribbles your order on a cup, and you wait for her to prompt you to pay.
"Will that be all?" She chirps. You did not rehearse for more lines. You shake your head. "Alright, it'll be $5.62! You can go on and insert your card."
She gestured to the little card reader, and you fumble through the payment process as quickly as you're able. You step out of the way and sit at the bar by the pick-up area.
That was terrible. But it's over. Hopefully she won't remember the interaction ever again.
When your order is called, you stand to take it. Your hand bumps the barista's and you're quick to move away, turning back to the bar and setting your cup down.
jesus, someone looks tired.
Wow, dick.
You give the barista a weird look over your shoulder and he returns it. You grab your laptop anyways and get started on your homework.
For every epsilon there is a delta... g(x) is continuous if and only if- Jesus, I can't believe D fucking called me out here again. Online school doesn't fucking mean no school. There exists an initial delta greater than zero such that g(x) is defined -
ohhh.
- for all x that exists from ‘a’ minus the initial delta to ‘a’ plus the initial delta, and...
You keep working on your assignment, ignoring the barista. This teacher’s style is... very theoretical. He heavily appreciates epsilon delta proofs, and you have to admit you can see the appeal now that you have your head wrapped around them, but his assignments are time-consuming and difficult. You get yourself immersed completely in the zone, breathing in math and working persistently. It's five problems that will weigh you down until you get the assignment done, and the sooner you get it out of the way the sooner you can focus on your more entertaining classes.
The music of the shop plays, but it's far in the background. There's a piano overlay that's unique, and sometimes even decent, but it doesn't hold your attention. You block everything that isn’t your assignment out completely, working through each question with care. Your teacher allows you to turn in your assignment ahead of time and get feedback before the official turn-in, and you intend on taking full advantage of that.
... So, the absolute value of x minus ‘a’ is less than-
You pick up your phone the moment you notice it buzzing. You refrain from sighing as you answer.
"What's up?"
"Bro, do you even love me? Why visit your poor dear brother if you're just going to ignore him the whole time, bro.”
Oh, good. The baby's finally fucking awake.
"I'm at a coffee shop so I could do some homework in peace, bro. Replace the skin off your nose, man. There was still someone passed out in your green guest room when I left, anyways." You hear your brother make a confused noise and shuffle around.
There's a pause, and then he speaks again. "Oh. … Can you pick me up a white chocolate americano when you come back? But take your time, man.”
Fuck, why? Don't you have all the shit? You're going to make me go through that bullshit again? Fuck you.
"Sure."
"Sick. Legit, take your time, bro. Come back wheneves." You hear a low giggle in the background and decide to hang up.
Gross.
You try to focus back in on your assignment now. It's a lot more difficult with your brother's order weighing on you.
White chocolate americano. X minus ‘a’ is less than two epsilon over x plus ‘a.’ Probably large. No room for cream. This is the delta of epsilon, then. Is the same chick working? I'll probably grab it now and split. Would it be weird to get two drinks? Mine's basically KO'd and that guy did call me fucking tired. Rough to be straight up called out like that. Okay. White chocolate americano, large. Easy. You can do this.
You pack up your laptop and pocket your phone. The wave of customers has significantly calmed down, at least. You take a breath.
hey, pst.
come to the pick-up counter.
You furrow your eyebrows and look over. The weird barista was looking at you. He grins, raising an eyebrow and setting two drinks down on the counter.
white chocolate americano, large. four-shot latte with oat milk, medium.
He tracks you with his eyes intently. You stare dumbly back at him. You still have math on your mind. The action doesn't fully register yet. Your brain doesn't know what to do with the lack of lip movement.
Fuck, how do I pay?
The barista gives a charismatic laugh, shaking his head and making his way to the register.
wow! for a smart guy i got a total dumb ass!
He whispers something to his coworker and gestures Dirk closer. Dirk's brain finally clicks, but for the most part he just goes bright red and feels dumb.
Oh, fuck. Fuck, okay. Okay, this guy is the one. Off to a great start. This is the dude. The man. Fuck, I am already blowing this. Dicks, he can hear me, too, huh? Just. Just hand over the card and buy the coffee and it'll be fine. Or do I talk to him? How does one go about this? Am I supposed to say something?
"Hey! I'm John, nice to meet you," he says easily. He rings up the order and reaches out.
your card, you dork.
You can feel how overwhelmingly red your face is. You get out your card and hand it over, your hand a little shaky. You still don't know what to do, say, or even think. You weren't even prepared for a question on your order, let alone this.
pretty adorable for an ugly chick.
Excuse me.
You reel, gaping and looking down at yourself. The barista gasps aloud, covering his mouth with something akin to a giggle. "Sorry! I did not mean to think that like that," he says, running your card quickly.
You give him a sharp look.
Do I look like a chick? Do people think I'm a fucking girl? My hair isn't even that long! And my shoulders are WAY to broad for that shit. What the fuck. Is this guy joking?
well i AM a comedian.
You get the vague impression of shock, but he doesn’t think anything else aloud. He takes your receipt and writes his number on the back of it, handing it and your card back to you. You take it, expressionless and red. You feel salty and offended.
... my bad. did not think i was gay.
You shoot the guy another look, put your card away, and pocket your wallet with the receipt tucked into it. He grins sheepishly at you, and you find yourself having troubles staying mad already.
Fuckin' comedian ass fuckin' mister misgenderin' ass fuckin' gayass fuckin'-
You hear the guy laugh, and you allow a fraction of a smirk in return despite yourself. You take your two coffees and turn to leave. You’re still a little offended, but part of you is glowing from the turn of events. If you were not already packed and going through a coffee delivery for your histrionic brother, you would probably stay. He’s working, though, so that’s as good a reason as any to dip, anyways.
guess i am an ass man now. damn.
You very narrowly avoid tripping over yourself on your way out.