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The first time Tamsin sees her is during possibly one of the worst mornings of her life. In fact, if she had to rank awful mornings in order this would probably be somewhere near the top. Top five at least. Not the top, since she’s pretty sure nothing can ever be worse than accidentally – and it was an accident – knocking an almost full cup of coffee onto a small, already loudly crying toddler. Right in front of said unfortunate toddler’s mother, also known as Tamsin’s boss’ sister.
But still pretty awful.
Turns out a raging hangover and an alarm clock that chooses not to go off (probably because she was far too drunk to actually set it the previous night, but she prefers blaming the clock itself) don’t mix very well. Not only is she still half asleep and slightly nauseous, she’s also very late for work. Or at least she will be if she wastes time having breakfast, or showering, or other normal things normal people do to make themselves look somewhat presentable before they leave for work in the mornings.
To make things even worse, when she staggers into the bathroom and opens the drawer she keeps her contact lenses in, there’s only an empty box there. Excellent. She has no idea where her glasses are, she doesn’t have time to shower, there’s no coffee left since Rainer is a lazy shit and didn’t bother buying more after he finished the last packet, and the room is still spinning slightly when she tries to focus. So far her morning is going just swimmingly.
The one bright spot so far is at least her uniform is washed, ironed and neatly hanging up in the closet, so even if she looks and smells like an unwashed hobo, at least she’ll be a well-dressed unwashed hobo.
Dyson glares at her for all of about two seconds when she eventually reaches the coffee shop fifteen minutes after she’s supposed to be there, before he recognises the, presumably very familiar, hangover chic she’s currently sporting, and his expression morphs into one of smug glee that makes her want to punch him more than usual.
She stomps up to the cash register, ignoring Dyson’s muffled sniggering from beside the espresso machine, and forces a smile onto her face as she says good morning to the girl at the front of the painfully long line. The girl orders some ridiculous overflavoured soymilk latte, doesn’t say please, and the brief second she glances up from whatever she’s furiously typing out on her phone is to look down her nose at Tamsin’s disheveled appearance. Tamsin reminds herself that killing people is generally looked down upon in today’s society, and that if she wants the raise she’s been hinting at, she should probably refrain from going postal on any of the customers.
She doesn’t hate her job. Really, she doesn’t. She actually enjoys it most of the time, but what she does hate is the morning rush. Dealing with stressed out, vaguely important looking businessmen, and obnoxious giggly teenagers before 9am is unpleasant enough even when she didn’t maul the contents of the alcohol cupboard the previous night.
She especially dislikes the ones that briefly pause from shouting in their phone to grunt “the usual” at her, and then get pissed off when she has no idea what their usual is. As if she keeps some kind of catalogue of what each of the carbon copy grumpy man-in-expensive-looking-suit drinks.
Today, however, she’s almost glad there seems to be a never ending stream of people in and out the door, since it means there’s no time for Dyson to relentlessly make fun of her and her hungover state.
About an hour and a half after Tamsin first stumbled gracefully into the shop, the morning flurry of people finally starts to calm down, and it gets to the relatively quiet calm before the lunch storm, with only a few customers sitting around in the comfy armchairs dotted around the room.
She’s busy restocking the stacks of paper cups and ignoring Dyson when the bell above the door chimes loudly, and she glances up to see two women walking into the shop.
Dyson’s closer to the register, so he beams at them and smiles charmingly, asking what they’d like, while Tamsin – hopefully subtly – checks them out. They must be new, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen them before, and while she’d instantly forget Plain Guy #1 as soon as he walked away from the counter, she’d definitely remember these two. The smaller one is rattling off a complicated sounding order that Dyson is valiantly attempting to keep up with, and the other one is wearing an extremely tight tank top that is drawing most – read: all – of Tamsin’s attention to her chest.
She’s broken out of her leering when Dyson thrusts the two takeaway cups at her, and she looks down at them to see two of the strangest names she’s ever heard. Kenzi – the smaller one if the many ticked boxes and scrawled notes on the cup is anything to go by – is probably short for Mackenzie or something like that, but she’s never met someone called Bo before.
It’s kind of a boring name if she’s honest, but Bo is smoking hot so Tamsin can look past it.
She makes their drinks, nearly burning herself on the espresso machine when she’s too distracted staring at Bo’s ass – Tamsin’s never been so glad that someone had the brilliant idea of inventing leather pants – before she places the two cups on the counter and calls out their names. The shorter one that Tamsin has already forgotten the name of gives her an unimpressed glare, presumably because her extremely unsubtle eyefucking of Bo hasn’t gone unnoticed, before turning on her alarmingly high heel and flouncing away.
Bo at least says thank you, smiling at Tamsin sweetly before following her friend out of the door.
Tamsin stares after her like a moron for a few seconds, before she catches sight of her reflection in the glass covering the pastry display, and of fucking course the hottest girl she’s ever seen in her life had to see her while she looks like shit, her hair piled into a messy ponytail – and not even the cute kind of messy ponytail girls that aren’t Tamsin can pull off, just straight up stuck-her-fingers-in-an-electric-socket kind of messy – and her stupid glasses. And there’s a smear of cinnamon powder on her face. Fantastic.
Tamsin doesn’t expect to ever see them again, but apparently something about their little coffee shop appealed to them, or maybe Kenzi just enjoys glaring at her, and since then, they’ve been in at least four times per week.
Not that Tamsin’s noticed or anything.
/
After about a month, all Tamsin knows about the pair is their names and how they like their coffee. Unfortunately, she also made the mistake of mentioning “the pretty brunette that’s always in the coffee shop” to Rainer, and he demanded to meet her, ignoring Tamsin when she points out that she’s not going to introduce him to someone that she’s never spoken to past pleasant good mornings and asking for their order.
“Is that her?” Rainer whispers obnoxiously loudly, nodding his head towards where Bo and Kenzi are sitting in the corner so violently Tamsin’s mildly concerned he’s going to break his neck. He’s about as subtle as a fire alarm, and if Tamsin has to tell him to keep his trap shut again she’s going to get creative with some duct tape. There are knives under the sink as well; she could get pretty artistic with them as well.
“Yeah that’s her, the one Tamsin stares longingly at while she’s here, then waxes lyrical about for the rest of the shift after she leaves.” Dyson answers, ignoring her indignant huff.
Maybe she’ll continue her duct tape/knife creativity with Dyson as well. She glares at them both and they just laugh at her because they’re assholes.
“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Rainer asks with an annoying smirk. “The worst that could happen is she just says no. In which case let her know that I’m single.”
“I will let her know that you have every STD known to man, but luckily for you that will not be happening, because she won’t be saying no, because I won’t be asking her out,” she huffs dramatically, putting a plastic lid on Rainer’s drink and dropping it onto the counter in front of him with as much as disdain as she can muster. “Now, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Someone else to harass?”
“No, don’t think so,” he replies, looking smug.
“Dude, I think she’s right, didn’t your break end like ten minutes ago?” Dyson appears next to Tamsin, helpfully holding his arm out and showing Rainer the time on his watch.
Rainer swears under his breath, grabbing his coffee and running out of the door, leaving Tamsin with only one annoying friend to deal with.
The shop is fairly empty at the moment, so Tamsin busies herself with cleaning the espresso machine, while Dyson restocks the paper cups. She turns round to ask him to hand her another cloth, and is slightly confused when she sees him ducking into the back cupboard.
“Dyson, what-“
She’s interrupted by someone politely clearing their throat, and she whips round to see Bo at the counter, smiling at her.
“Hi, uh, could I get another macchiato please?” Bo says, and Tamsin isn’t sure whether or she’s imagining Bo’s cheeks going slightly pink. “To go, this time.”
Tamsin manages to stop gaping at Bo like a goldfish before she embarrasses herself, and sets about making her drink. She puts an extra pump of caramel in when she thinks Bo isn’t looking, and as she hands the cup over to Bo she opens her mouth to say the price, but what comes out instead is, “This one’s on the house.”
Bo looks at her in surprise, carefully taking the cup from her outstretched hand, and Tamsin tries not to leap six feet in the air when their fingers brush.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Tamsin replies with what she hopes is a charming smile.
Kenzi is looking over at them suspiciously, and she’s pretty sure Dyson is eavesdropping on them from the other side of the door and she’ll have to put up with him mocking her for the rest of her shift, but it’s totally worth it for the smile that spreads over Bo’s face.
“Thank you, um-“ She pauses, and Tamsin watches her eyes drift down to somewhere below her neck, and she wonders if Bo’s this forward with everyone she meets before she realises she’s probably staring at the name badge rather than her chest. The name badge, which thanks to Rainer “helpfully customising” it for her, now proclaims Hi my name is Dyson’s bitch.
Tamsin groans, because she has no idea how long she’s been wearing that stupid badge for, before looking back up at Bo, who is failing spectacularly at trying to hide a smile.
“I’m Tamsin,” she says, because even she can’t embarrass herself in the space of three syllables. She fumbles at the badge, eventually managing to detach it from her shirt, shoving it in her back pocket while making a mental note to exact a painful and humiliating revenge on Rainer at a later date.
“Tamsin,” Bo repeats, and Tamsin ignores how nice her name sounds coming from Bo’s lips. “I like it. And it’s easier to remember than the cute blonde barista who never charges me for extra syrup.”
She blinks stupidly for a few seconds – did she just call her cute – and then Bo smirks at her before walking back to Kenzi without another word.
/
A week later, Tamsin is busy mopping up an unfortunate frappuccino incident and grumbling under her breath when the bell jingles, and she looks up to see Bo and Kenzi walking in. Kenzi’s arm is wrapped around Bo’s waist and their heads are about a millimetre apart, and she briefly wonders if she’s been monumentally dense and failed to realise that they’re actually together, before remembering the sickening flirting she was unfortunate enough to witness between Dyson and Kenzi a few days ago.
The end of the small line that’s currently waiting to be served happens to be right beside Tamsin, so it’s not like she can stop herself from overhearing them, and in the thirty seconds it takes her to finish cleaning, she hears the name Lauren twice, the word bitch about fifteen times, and several alarmingly creative ways of permanently disfiguring this mysterious Lauren, courtesy of Kenzi. Bo doesn’t say a single word throughout all of Kenzi’s scheming, and when Tamsin turns around to carry the mop and bucket back to the supply closet she sees Bo’s eyes are red rimmed and slightly puffy. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s been crying. Using her brilliant deductive skills Tamsin assumes Lauren is the no-longer girlfriend of Bo, and immediately decides she doesn’t like her.
Tamsin nearly trips over her own feet while walking past Bo, because apparently she turns into an idiot with no control over her limbs around a pretty girl that she may or may not have a slight crush on, and groans internally because she knows Dyson will have seen that. He’s taken to watching her like a hawk whenever Bo is in the coffee shop, and then gleefully relaying every dumb comment Tamsin makes and all the times Tamsin stares wistfully (his words) at Bo to Rainer after the shop closes.
Bo and Kenzi take their order to go, and Dyson and Tamsin spend the next hour analysing why the only time Bo looked up from staring at the ground was to smile briefly at Tamsin.
/
The first time Bo comes in without Kenzi is on a Sunday morning in the first week of November. Tamsin’s half asleep, and the only reason she’s even working is because the girl who normally works Sunday mornings, Ciara, is off visiting her family in Scotland or Ireland or some shit like that – Tamsin wasn’t really paying a whole lot of attention – and she was unlucky enough to draw the short straw.
She’s about to make some mind-numbingly stupid comment about Bo not having her usual bodyguard with her, when she realises if she wants her daydreams of dating Bo to have even a faint chance of becoming a reality, it’s probably not a good idea to insult her friend.
“Hi,” Tamsin says instead, hoping Bo won’t notice the way her voice is an octave or two higher than usual.
“Hi,” Bo greets her brightly, and honestly, who the hell is this cheerful this early in the morning?
Tamsin asks for her order, mostly out of habit, since Bo has never not ordered a caramel macchiato, and watches as Bo opens and then closes her mouth, looking thoughtful, before saying, “Surprise me.”
Tamsin blinks stupidly. Usually, she hates the annoying customers than say that obnoxious phrase, surprise me, as if Tamsin is going to waste precious time and effort coming up with a special not-on-the-menu drink for a complete stranger. But of course, since it’s Bo (and since Dyson’s not there to make fun of her) she smiles like an idiot and picks up a cup.
She busies herself making Bo’s drink, hitting two of the flavour pumps and hoping it doesn’t turn out to be disgusting, and is acutely aware of Bo watching her intently the whole time.
She dusts chocolate flakes onto the top of the drink, and holds out the cup to Bo. She takes it, handing over a $5 with her other hand, and Tamsin ignores the way her heart starts thumping madly when their fingers brush.
Bo takes one sip of the concoction Tamsin prays is drinkable, and her eyebrows shoot up in what is hopefully a good kind of surprise.
“Wow,” she says. “This is delicious. What is it?”
“Uh,” Tamsin stutters when Bo licks her lips, temporarily forgetting how to speak as she stares at Bo’s tongue. “Cinnamon and white chocolate chai latte,” she croaks out, hoping her complete inability at talking like a normal human being isn’t going to scare off Bo permanently.
“This is so good,” Bo continues. “You should add this to the menu.”
“You like cinnamon?” Tamsin asks, and Bo nods enthusiastically. “We just tried a new recipe of cinnamon muffins, if you want to be the guinea pig? You can have the deciding vote for whether we make them again or not.”
Tamsin disappears into the kitchen when Bo continues nodding eagerly, reappearing with a plate and a muffin from the batch that Hale and Dyson didn’t burn.
Bo takes a bite of the muffin, and then devours the rest of it at an alarming pace.
“So, they’re good then?” Tamsin asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Definitely,” Bo replies. “But you shouldn’t put them on sale, just let me buy all of them. I promise I won’t tell your manager.”
Tamsin laughs, and she knows she probably looks like a lovestruck fool, but she can’t help it. This “little” crush is starting to get worryingly out of hand. Which reminds her…
“So, um,” Tamsin starts, wondering if she’s going to have the remains of the coffee thrown in her face for asking this question. “The other week, you and Kenzi came in and you looked pretty upset.”
Bo sighs and looks down at her cup, fiddling with the plastic lid.
“Sorry if this is like, incredibly rude or invasive or whatever, and feel free to tell me to shut up, but I was just wondering if you were, you know, okay?” Tamsin continues rambling. “I mean, you’re like my best customer. So if you think about it, this is actually a selfish question, because if you stopped coming in cause something was wrong, our sales would probably drop significantly.”
Bo laughs, and Tamsin breaths a sigh of relief. “Well, your coffee is great, so you don’t have to worry about me stopping coming in.” She takes a sip of the coffee in her hand to prove her point. “As for my being upset, my now ex-girlfriend moved to Vancouver in August, and that day was when we officially called it quits, even though it’d really been over for a while by then.”
“I’m sorry,” Tamsin says, because that’s what you’re supposed to say, right?
“Five hour flight between us, it was never really gonna last,”
Tamsin isn’t entirely sure what to say, so she just slides another cinnamon muffin towards Bo on a plate. It’s promptly wolfed down with an appreciative smile.
“I can tell you about all my other breakups if you’ll keep feeding me these,” Bo says with a laugh, licking her fingers clean as Tamsin’s mind nosedives into the gutter at the sight.
“So, you’re single?” Tamsin blurts out without thinking, and wow did she ever not mean to say that.
Thankfully Bo doesn't take offence, just smiles at her over the rim of the coffee cup, and nods.
Tamsin smiles back, valiantly hoping her face isn’t as red as it feels, and idly notes how incredibly pretty Bo’s eyes are. The comfortable silence and Tamsin’s unsubtle staring is broken after a few seconds by a loud rendition of Let It Snow blaring from Bo’s pocket. Bo huffs, fishing out her phone and giving it an unimpressed glare.
“I have to go,” she says, and Tamsin’s almost positive she’s not imagining the disappointment in Bo’s voice. “Kenzi’s having a fashion emergency, and unfortunately when she says emergency she really does mean emergency.”
Bo finishes her coffee, and blushes slightly when Tamsin insists on her not having to pay for the two muffins, leaving the shop just as another customer walks in.
She looks up while she’s making the man’s coffee and nearly spills boiling water all over herself when she sees Bo wave shyly at her through the window.
Tamsin smiles like an idiot for the rest of her shift.
/
After that, Bo starts coming in alone on the days she doesn’t come in with Kenzi. Each time she does, Dyson or Hale or whoever Tamsin’s on with is conveniently busy with something else, leaving Tamsin to take Bo’s order. And each time, Bo tells Tamsin to surprise her. She doesn’t always stay at the coffee shop, sometimes she just drops in and asks for her coffee to go, and Tamsin’s not sure if she’s seeing things or not, but Bo always seems slightly less chipper whenever that happens.
Like every other coffee shop chain in the world, they get red, green and white Christmas themed paper cups in around mid-November, and a whole host of holiday drinks go up on the menu.
Tamsin, Dyson, Hale and the rest of the staff also get forced into wearing Santa hats for the duration of their shifts. Fantastic.
Bo comes in on her own about an hour before Tamsin’s shift finishes, and orders a Fa La La Latte, trying and failing to hide a smile at how ridiculous Tamsin probably looks with a red and white fluffy hat perched on her head. It’s snowing outside, like it has been all day, and Tamsin has to bite her tongue to stop herself from blurting out how cute Bo looks all bundled up in a coat and scarf and a bright blue beanie.
Tamsin spends the next ten minutes rearranging the pastry display and surreptitiously watching Bo drink her coffee and read her book like a total creep. She ignores Dyson making kissy noises at her and spends another five minutes daydreaming about going over and actually talking to Bo, before Bo makes to get up, and Tamsin pretends to be busy restocking the plastic cup lids and not staring wistfully in her direction.
Bo says goodbye to her, and waves to Dyson before turning towards the door. Just as she’s leaving the shop, Tamsin realises that Bo has returned her empty mug on the counter. She’s understandably confused, considering this is probably the first instance of any customer ever bothering to return empty mugs, until she notices a napkin underneath the mug with something scrawled on it.
You look ridiculously cute in that hat, and since you seem to need a little extra push… is written in what looks like eyeliner, followed by a smiley face and what she can only assume is Bo’s number. She only just manages to stop herself from bursting into song and jumping up and down like a fool. She turns to look at the clock, noting that she has thirty minutes left of her shift, and makes a snap decision.
Maybe the eggnog that Dyson made her try earlier was spiked with something, or she’s just inhaled too much cinnamon, or she’s just finally gone insane under the weight of this massive crush she has, but whatever the reason, something has Tamsin turning to Dyson where he’s wiping down one of the counters and humming an off-key version of All I Want For Christmas Is You.
“You can handle the rest of the shift without me, right?”
“Probably. I doubt it’ll get much busier, and Hale’s always early for his shift,” he says without looking up. “Why? You finally gonna grow a pair and run after Bo like in those dramatic romantic movies you pretend not to like?”
“She just left me her number on this napkin, so yeah, I am,” she replies, yanking her apron off and hanging it up in the back room. Dyson nearly falls over from shock, and looks at her like she’s lost her mind – which, maybe she has, who knows – then beams at her and holds his hand up for a high five.
She punches his open palm instead, and shows him the napkin. Dyson doesn’t quite manage to stop himself from jumping up and down when he sees the numbers scribbled on it. He grabs her jacket off the hook and throws it at her, practically ushering her out the door eagerly.
“Go Tamsin!” He pumps his fist enthusiastically, before disappearing back into the shop, and Tamsin glances both ways down the street until she spots Bo’s bright hat bobbing along.
She sets off into a jog, chasing after Bo and sending up a quick prayer that she doesn’t slip on a patch of ice and break her neck or embarrass herself. She calls Bo’s name, and watches her turn around and look at Tamsin with a surprised expression.
“Tamsin, hey, what are you-“
Whatever she’s about to say gets cut off as Tamsin kisses her. Bo makes a surprised squeak against Tamsin’s mouth, but kisses back almost instantly, her arms sliding around Tamsin’s shoulders and pulling her in closer.
It’s snowing heavily, and Tamsin is already freezing from the snow soaking into her hair and her jacket, and she’s still wearing the stupid Santa hat that she’d somehow forgotten about, but Bo’s lips are warm against hers and they’re sending a heated flush through Tamsin’s body.
Eventually Tamsin pulls back, breaking the kiss just enough so she can catch her breath. She smiles breathlessly at Bo, leaning forward so that their foreheads touch.
“Wow,” Bo says against her mouth, giggling when Tamsin presses another quick kiss against her lips. “I thought you were never going to take a hint.”
“Better latte than never,” Tamsin says because she’s an idiot.
“Oh my God,” Bo groans, laughing despite herself.
“So, uh,” Tamsin starts, brushing her thumb along Bo’s cheekbone. “I was gonna wait until after our date before I kissed you, but I guess I didn’t really feel like waiting.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bo says with a smile. “And what date?”
“The one I’m asking you on now. Are you free tonight?”
Bo smiles, biting her lip and ducking her head, and Tamsin’s pretty sure the red flush dusting her cheeks isn’t from the cold.
/
Bo continues to frequent the coffee shop, the only difference being she now greets Tamsin by kissing her across the counter; both of them ignoring the simultaneous fake gagging noises from both Dyson and Kenzi.
It takes Tamsin just less than two months before she realises she’s hopelessly in love, and by the time February is rolling around, and Dyson is pulling the huge box of Valentine’s Day decorations and the seasonal menu adorned with disgusting lovey-dovey named drinks out of storage, Tamsin has started to hate her job a little bit less.