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“Okay, so October is just around the corner, which means we’re bringing back our Autumn range of lattes and hot chocolates,” began the coffee shop manager, Abby Griffin. Lexa had to suppress a groan. Autumn was by far her favourite season with all the crunchy leaves, plaid shirts in fashion, and Halloween, but working in a coffee shop in the middle of a University city could soon change her mind about that. She was in her last year at the University of Manchester, studying biology and had landed a part-time job at Griffin’s Ground Coffee in her first year, which meant she’d had to contend with pumpkin spice this and that for three years now. As she glanced around at her other colleagues – mostly freshers – she caught the eye of the blonde who’d been working there even longer than Lexa: the manager’s daughter. Clarke was looking directly at her as Abby introduced the new menu, rhyming off all the pumpkin spice beverages, and the blonde gave an eyeroll. Lexa had to stifle a laugh. Although they’d worked together nearly every Thursday for three years, the girls wouldn’t describe themselves as friends, but one thing they bonded over was their shared hatred of pumpkin spice drinks, and this year, Lexa was hoping to turn this passion into a game.
“How do you feel about bets, Clarke?” the brunette asked, sidling up to her colleague as they wiped down the front counter. Clarke raised an inquisitive eyebrow and Lexa knew she’d piqued her interest. If there was something she’d learned about Clarke in all their years, it was that she was competitive.
“Now that depends on the bet. What do you have in mind?” Clarke countered. She watched as a mischievous twinkle seemed to flash in the brunette’s green eyes.
“I bet I can serve more pumpkin spice lattes and hot chocolates than you,” said Lexa, and Clarke definitely saw the challenge in her eyes this time. Clarke Griffin was not someone who backed down from a challenge.
“Oh yeah?” quipped Clarke. When Lexa merely curled her lips upwards in a smirk, Clarke knew for certain that she wasn’t going to let this woman win. She placed her rag on the counter, turned to face Lexa and asked, “What are your terms?” Lexa couldn’t stop the full smile that threatened to appear.
“We both work ten hours a week, so in those ten hours we record how many lattes and hot chocolates – pumpkin spice only – that we serve. On October 31st, the loser, or the one who has served the least, must drink a full pumpkin spice latte,” said Lexa, placing her hands on her hips. Clarke tapped her chin with her index finger like she was considering the deal albeit already knowing that she would agree to whatever terms Lexa came up with.
“I want to add two terms to those,” said Clarke. Lexa cocked her head to the side, almost daring Clarke to challenge her. Clarke took it as an invitation to continue, “One – we both have to work the same shifts to ensure no one is cheating and that it’s fair game, and two – we make this a little more interesting. At the end of each shift, whoever has served the least amount of pumpkin spice anything has to make the winner a drink of their choice.”
“Ah, a little competition inside the competition,” Lexa mused, allowing a smile to cross her lips, “I like it.” Clarke felt her mood brighten immediately.
“So, come Halloween, may the best woman win,” said Clarke, offering her hand for Lexa to shake.
As the brunette grasped the other girl’s hand in a firm handshake, she repeated, “May the best woman win,” and the bet was on.
Obviously, it wasn’t hard for Clarke to pull some strings in her mum’s coffee shop, so getting Abby to change Clarke’s usual Sunday shift to a Saturday then she could work alongside Lexa was no problem. One of the freshers was even happy to pick up Clarke’s six hours on the Sunday to leave her Saturdays free. When her mum had asked why she was suddenly so keen to spend her shifts with Lexa, Clarke had to admit that they had a bet going. Instead of being disappointed, though, Abby seemed enthused that there was some healthy competition about sales. She was secretly hoping that both girls would put in extra effort to try to sell more pumpkin spice drinks. Hopefully, business would be booming again after the slow Summer season.
On the 3rd of October, Clarke and Lexa’s first Thursday shift, Lexa could already feel the distinct change in weather. Septembers in England were never especially warm, but it seemed that as soon as October hit, so did the wind and rain – especially in the North West. So, just before her shift started at two in the afternoon, Lexa pulled on her jumper instead of wearing her usual t-shirt. The walk from her apartment, which she shared with her course mates Lincoln and Anya, was short, consisting of winding pavements and alleys for fifteen minutes until she was outside the coffee shop exactly five minutes early. This would give her ample time to dump her bag, put her apron on and be ready to start tallying pumpkin spice orders at exactly two.
As usual, Clarke was running late. Wednesday nights for a student were made for going out drinking, and Clarke was still a student. One day, it was in her best interest to inherit the coffee shop from her mum, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to pursuit a career of her own, so she was in her final year studying Sociology. The end goal was to become a social worker, which required another two years studying and on placement, but she had to first get a 2:1 on her Bachelor’s. So far, she was on track to meet that target, but she wasn’t on track to arrive at the shop on time. With only ten minutes until her shift started, Clarke had to just throw on the nearest jumper and jeans and scamper out of the door. Thankfully, she had a car, meaning she wouldn’t have to sprint to the shop. Instead, she pulled up into the small carpark across the road and bustled through the front door to be met with Lexa already serving someone. Only then did Clarke check the clock: five past two. She’d potentially missed out on one or two pumpkin spice orders!
With an annoyed sigh at herself, Clarke slipped past the counter into the back room to put on her dark green apron. As she walked to the front, something caught her eye that she missed before: a huge whiteboard propped under the counter out of the view of customers but in full view of the baristas. In bold black writing were hers and Lexa’s names, divided by a black line down the centre of the board. Quizzically, Clarke tilted her head to the side as Lexa crouched down and – using the marker beside the board – drew one single tally mark under her name.
“What’s that?” Clarke asked. Lexa spun around with a self-satisfied smirk. Before she could answer, Abby rounded the corner carrying a tray of empty cups.
“Hi honey, I thought I’d bring out the board then you could tally how many of those pumpkin spice drinks you’re both serving. Good idea, right?” the older woman said, seemingly impressed by her own stroke of genius. Clarke had to admit that they hadn’t thought of anything better to track their progress. However, she couldn’t stand the fact that Lexa had already gotten one more order than her.
“But Lexa got one when I wasn’t here. That shouldn’t count surely,” said Clarke. As she was speaking, she realised that it sounded more like whinging. That became abundantly clear when Lexa raised her eyebrows amusedly at Clarke’s tone.
“Well, that’ll teach you to get here on time,” said Abby, and Clarke couldn’t argue with that. She’d just have to win that point back from Lexa. That smug smile on her face at already being in the lead was enough to fuel Clarke’s fire to win. So, when a young couple walked through the door less than a few minutes later, Clarke practically lunged for the till and awaited their approach.
“Hi there, what can I get for you?” asked Clarke in her overly pleasant server voice. Lexa noticed Clarke’s sneaky move of jumping in before she could get to the till, but she’d let the blonde have this one.
“Uhm, I think I’ll have the regular salted caramel hot chocolate please,” said the girl. She gave Clarke a warm smile and Clarke struggled to return it. She’d jumped at the chance to serve this couple, hoping to be in the lead afterwards, but even if the boy ordered something pumpkin spice, she’d still only be drawing with the brunette. Just as he decided what to order, Clarke felt her stomach lurch with excitement as a gaggle of girls clearly fresh from a lecture walked in. They’d certainly be her target customers.
“What can I get for you?” were the words that made Clarke’s stomach drop to her feet once more. She craned her head sideways, trying her best to give Lexa an evil glare as the first girl approached Lexa’s till. Only after a few moments did she remember where she was and who she was serving.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked the young boy.
“Oh, I said I’d just take a regular cappuccino please,” he said.
“Of course,” said Clarke, trying to hide her disdain at the customers who very rudely wanted normal, non-pumpkin spice drinks. How dare they!
They paid for their drinks while Clarke got to work making them. Maybe she was pressing the buttons on the machine a little more vigorously than usual, and maybe she was silently seething every time a girl asked for a pumpkin spice latte. She could hear the smug smile in Lexa’s voice.
“There you go,” said Clarke, passing the takeaway cups to the pair she’d served. Politely, they thanked her before Clarke looked up, hoping to see a few girls left to order their drinks, but to no avail. Lexa was serving the last two who were ordering and paying together. Clarke could do nothing more than sulk as she helped Lexa complete the orders. A moment after the group of girls had departed, Lexa dropped down again and added a few more lines on her side of the board.
“Oh, would you look at that! I’ve got four already,” she said. When Clarke just scowled at her, trying desperately not to break into a smile, Lexa added, “It’s still anyone’s game.”
The stakes weren’t even that high. The loser just had to drink one of those God-awful pumpkin spice lattes. That was it. However, Clarke was so determined not to lose. She had no idea why she was so passionate about winning this stupid bet, but there was no way she was going to lose. Maybe it was her overbearing competitive spirit, or maybe it was the exhilaration that came with adding her own tallies onto the whiteboard. It most definitely had nothing to do with being able to mess around and joke with the barista that Clarke found very attractive. Nope, it certainly wasn’t that. Still, at the end of the shift after Abby had handed her the keys for her and Lexa to lock up at six, Clarke had to admit defeat. There were only two tallies between them, but Lexa had served the most pumpkin spice drinks.
“Mint hot chocolate please, Clarke,” said Lexa. Her eyes were practically twinkling with glee as she looked across at the blonde, a half-smirk playing on her face. Winning was a feeling Lexa never got sick of. What made her victory even sweeter was the look of pure annoyance on Clarke’s face as she aggressively grabbed a takeaway cup from the pile. Once Lexa departed into the back room to remove her apron and grab her things, Clarke began searching for a lid when her eyes latched onto the whiteboard marker and she was hit with an idea.
Less than a few minutes later, Lexa walked back out to the front of the shop, stopping before Clarke. It took the brunette a millisecond to know that Clarke was up to something. She was stood, a smile on her face that made her look ten times more suspicious and was holding her drink behind her back. Instinctively, Lexa narrowed her eyes.
“I hope you’ve not poisoned my drink or something,” said Lexa.
“Oh no,” Clarke replied, vehemently shaking her head. She passed the cup to Lexa as she said innocently, “One mint hot chocolate.” Suspiciously, Lexa accepted the drink, peering at it although it would tell her all its secrets. She tilted the cup, and Clarke watched on with interest until she was certain Lexa had found what she’d done.
Winning isn’t an attractive look on you;)
Lexa couldn’t stop the grin that took over her features as she read the words Clarke had scribbled onto the side of the takeaway cup. However, that little cheeky winking face almost caused her stomach to somersault. She knew she shouldn’t get carried away with it, knowing that girls used that emoji or icon in a friendly manner. Clarke wasn’t flirting with her. For all Lexa knew, Clarke was straight. She remembered her having a boyfriend about a year ago called Finn. Still, Lexa appreciated (in kind of an odd way) the witty comment on the side of her cup.
“Oh, is that how we’re playing this?” Lexa asked, her smile growing by the second. In that moment, Clarke was glad she’d written the flirty message. Lexa’s winning smirk was attractive, but a full smile caused by something Clarke had done. Well, that was something else.
“I don’t know. Is it?” Clarke challenged. They made their way to the door, Clarke’s words hanging between them. If Lexa wasn’t mistaken, she would consider Clarke’s comment flirtatious. Usually, Lexa was fast, quick-witted, especially when responding to someone flirting with her but something about the blonde who Lexa had assumed was straight had thrown her off.
Clarke began locking the door from the outside. Subconsciously, Lexa drew her leather jacket tighter around her, feeling that October chill seeping into her bones. She was looking forward to her mint hot chocolate, knowing it would warm her up immediately. Right now, it would be too hot to drink. Only then did she notice Clarke was only in a jumper and no jacket.
“Are you not cold?” Lexa asked.
Pocketing the keys, Clarke replied, “I’m in my car, so I won’t be cold in a minute.” Lexa just gave a small nod in response. After a beat, Clarke questioned, “Where do you live? I could give you a lift.”
“Oh, no, there’s no need, really. I’m not that far away,” said Lexa while shaking her head.
“Yeah, well, I insist. Come on,” said Clarke. Lexa was about to argue again, but Clarke had already wrapped her fingers around Lexa’s elbow and was pulling her towards the curb.
Lexa already knew that Clarke was a little disorganised, but when she stepped into her car, she wasn’t expecting to have to avoid stepping on a satchel or a full carrier bag. Clarke offered her a quick apology for the mess, but it didn’t bother Lexa. She’d only be in her car for a few minutes anyway.
Or so she thought. However, Clarke couldn’t find Lexa’s address for the life of her, which wouldn’t have been a problem had Lexa known how to get to it from the coffee shop.
“I only walk to the shop through back alleys and shortcuts! I’ve never driven or been driven from the coffee shop, so I have no idea how to get there!” Lexa defended. So, Clarke eyed her from her periphery and shook her head in disbelief.
“How can you not know where your own house is?” asked Clarke incredulously.
“Hey!” Lexa began in a higher pitched voice, “Manchester is huge and confusing! Wait, I think I recognise this road!” Clarke couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter at their predicament. “Okay, turn left here,” Lexa instructed, keeping her eyes glued to the road and for any other landmarks she recognised, “Left again, yeah. I think this is it this time! Okay, now just turn right and you can stop here.” Clarke killed the engine, finally letting out a sigh.
“About time,” said Clarke, a playful grin on her face. Lexa unbuckled her seatbelt, feeling somewhat embarrassed that it had taken nearly fifteen minutes longer than it should’ve done. Clarke turned to her as she said, “I’m not driving you home again.” She let out a laugh as Lexa blushed a little.
“It would’ve been quicker for me to walk home,” quipped Lexa.
“Piss off out of my car!” Clarke joked, lightly nudging Lexa.
“See you Saturday, loser!” said Lexa as she swung the passenger door open. As the biology student made her way to her apartment block, Clarke kept her gaze trained on her. Her black jeans hugged her hips and legs, and her figure was something Clarke hadn’t paid attention to before. She had no idea how. With a shake of her head, Clarke beeped her horn, letting out a laugh as a startled Lexa turned around to give her a wave. Clarke waved back then waited for Lexa to enter her building before heading back home. Thankfully, she remembered to turn on her Satnav this time.
Their first six-hour Saturday shift turned out almost the same as their Thursday one. Once again, Lexa was early. However, when she pushed open the doors to the coffee shop, shaking off her drenched umbrella, she was shocked to see Clarke already at the counter at five-to-ten in the morning. The blonde flashed her a too-innocent smile.
“You can’t serve anyone until ten,” said Lexa authoritatively.
“I know the rules,” Clarke snapped back, playful smiles on their faces.
This time, at the end of the shift, Lexa counted the tallies from the day thrice. She refused to believe that she’d lost. All day it felt like everyone she served ordered pumpkin spice lattes, but somehow, Clarke had served more than her. Lexa knew that to win the war, sometimes you had to concede a few battles, so she wasn’t too worried. But once the news had been broken to Clarke that she was victorious, Lexa regretted taking that two-minute break for the toilet. Maybe if she’d held it, she could’ve beat Clarke. When the blonde lost, she was a nightmare, but, God, when she won, she was insufferable.
“Woo, would you look at that? I won. I beat you by like six drinks! That’s a new record. How’s it feel to be a loser, Lexa? Better get used to it because I am going to destroy you come Halloween,” Clarke mocked. What made the whole ordeal more entertaining was the way Lexa clenched her jaw with every word Clarke said. It was a stupid competition; an infantile bet. But winding Lexa up and seeing her agitated was so hot that Clarke simply couldn’t resist.
Practically snatching a takeaway cup from the pile, Lexa asked through clenched teeth, “What drink would you like, Clarke?” Clarke revelled in the satisfaction of getting the brunette mad.
“White hot chocolate, if it’s not too much trouble,” Clarke mused. She’d removed her apron and grabbed her raincoat and car keys from the back room. Deciding to be even more of an annoyance, she rounded the counter, taking a seat at the front like a customer. Watching Lexa make her hot chocolate was a sight to behold. The way she meticulously grabs everything she needs, presses the button and only places the cup underneath exactly when the liquid begins pouring out. Three years of working as a barista has made Lexa a pro at it. Clarke’s interest was piqued when the brunette grabbed the whiteboard marker and scribbled something on the cup. Wordlessly, she passed the drink to Clarke, and – although her face was a mask of indifference – Clarke could spot that cheeky glint in her eyes.
A white hot chocolate for a basic white girl;)
With a snigger, Clarke looked up from reading the message just as Lexa made her way back to the front. Over the years, whenever the girls worked together, they would share offhand comments about some of the people who entered Griffin’s Ground Coffee. Their favourite game to play was ‘guess the drink’ when typical basic white girls walked in. Clarke hated to admit that Lexa was the best at it. Whenever she would guess correctly and the unsuspecting customer would rattle off her order, perfectly matching Lexa’s assumption, the brunette would subtly wink at Clarke. Of course, the blonde would scoff only to hide the blush that was rising to her cheeks. So, Lexa calling Clarke one of those basic white girls with their perfect hair and make-up and complicated coffee orders was kind of an inside joke between them. Probably the only inside joke they had.
They made their way outside, Lexa stopping at the door to put her umbrella up. The rain had been relentless since she stepped foot outside her door. Still, it was nothing new. If anything, Lexa liked the tranquillity that came with listening to the rain. She just wasn’t a fan of having to walk home in it, dodging puddles and still ending up drenched to the bone when she finally reached her apartment.
So, when Clarke said, “Fancy getting us lost on our way to your apartment again?” Lexa could hardly refuse.
Their two shifts a week carried on much the same. Once again, Clarke won on Thursday.
If you continue gloating, your head won’t fit through the door;)
Lexa even allowed a smile to herself as she wrote that one down. She was surprised when Clarke still offered her a lift home, and this time, it only took them five minutes longer than it should have to reach Lexa’s apartment. The brunette considered that a success. Lexa won the following Saturday.
It’s been so long since you’ve won, I’m surprised you remembered how it feels;)
Lexa just rolled her eyes at that one while Clarke smirked. However, Clarke was brought down a peg or two when Lexa served the most pumpkin spice beverages two more shifts in a row.
You’ll always be a loser to me;)
You winning is like the human version of period cramps;)
“How long have you been sitting on that one? Did you find it on some Facebook group or what?” Lexa asked as she read the note on the cup. It was Saturday the 19th of October, only three more shifts left until the winner was declared, and Lexa was feeling confident. Clearly, Clarke was feeling threatened if she’d succumbed to recycling trash talk from the internet.
“Don’t make me retract the offer of a lift home,” Clarke warned.
On the following Thursday, it had been three shifts in a row Clarke had lost, so she wasn’t going down again without a fight. She may have stayed glued to the till for the most part in hopes that she’d get all the customers, and it worked. In fact, she had served ten more pumpkin spice drinks than Lexa that shift. As she turned the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ on the door window, she practically danced her way back to the counter. The whole time, Lexa tried avoiding watching her shenanigans, knowing for a fact that as soon as she caught her eye, Lexa wouldn’t be able to control a laugh, and that would be giving Clarke the satisfaction she craved. Instead, Lexa pretended to look bored.
Monotonously, she asked, “What drink?”
In a gleeful tone, Clarke replied, “I feel like a hazelnut latte.” Immediately, Lexa grabbed the whiteboard pen, knowing exactly what she wanted to write.
You’re much cuter when you’re losing;)
Maybe it was risky. Maybe it got Lexa’s heart pounding the second Clarke accepted the cup from her. Maybe it was too much. But it was definitely too late to change her mind. Besides, Lexa had to remind herself that when it came to flirting and having banter with women, she was good at it, and Clarke would be no different. She just had to be confident and suave. It was Clarke who appeared to stutter, taking a few seconds longer to respond to the message. For a moment, Lexa had thought she’d gone too far and crossed a boundary if Clarke was straight or just not interested in her. But soon, a shocked expression morphed into a full-blown grin and Lexa had no regrets.
“You think I’m cute?” Clarke asked, fluttering her eyelashes exaggeratedly.
“Not when you’re winning,” Lexa hit back. She revelled in the laugh that Clarke gave. Could she class this as a successful attempt at flirting? Did that mean Clarke was also flirting with her? Maybe.
The last Saturday before the deciding Thursday was upon them. Lexa was looking forward to their shift, knowing that she’d get to spend a full six hours with the sociology student that she’d certainly developed a crush for over the past few weeks. Sure, she’d always thought Clarke was attractive, beautiful even, but they didn’t seem to have much conversation or much in common. However, the reality was that they’d simply not spent enough time with each other to realise that they could chat for hours on end. That was exactly what they were doing when a woman walked in, the ringing of the bell above the door interrupting their discussion. Clarke wanted to throw Lexa out of the way to get to the till first, but the brunette had already claimed it. So, Clarke hung back, deciding to occupy herself by loading the dishwasher.
“Hi, what can I get you?” she heard Lexa’s all-too-familiar customer voice. Clarke had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling at the pleasant and so un-Lexa-like that tone was. She preferred her biting and cocky tone that Clarke had learned to identify as flirtatious.
“Something sweet,” replied the customer. Clarke craned her neck upwards. The way the woman said those two simple words made Clarke’s hair stand on edge. The suggestive undertones caused Clarke to practically glare daggers at the young woman ordering. She also didn’t fail to notice the slight smirk tugging at the corners of Lexa’s mouth like she was enjoying being flirted with.
“We have plenty of sweet things,” said Lexa, her voice still customer friendly.
“Yeah, like what?”
Lexa bit back a grin as she offered, “Our pumpkin spice latte or hot chocolate. That’s what I’d recommend.” As she spoke, she tilted her head in Clarke’s direction slightly, her grin growing. Clarke’s feelings of jealousy were suddenly replaced by a rush of exhilaration until she realised that Lexa wasn’t grinning at her because she was flirting. No, she was grinning at her because she was going to charm this customer into giving her another tally mark.
“Hm, I’ve never tried this pumpkin spice stuff, but I’ll trust your recommendation. I’ll take the hot chocolate please,” said the woman. As Lexa pressed a few buttons on the till, Clarke busied herself making the hot chocolate, all the while feeling both parts infuriated and impressed by Lexa’s cunning ways. She passed the customer the drink, barely getting a thank you from her since her eyes were practically roaming over Lexa. Clarke was in her right mind to clear her throat. She bit her tongue.
Lexa understood the woman she’d served was flirting with her. She sometimes had women hit on her while she was working, and she didn’t mind it for the distraction. However, this time it felt wrong while Clarke was stood only a few feet away. Her and Clarke weren’t dating or seeing each other or anything. They were just colleagues, maybe bordering on friends, so she didn’t know why she felt so guilty about indulging in this customer’s conversation with her. Perhaps it was because she could almost feel Clarke’s glare burning into the back of her skull.
On any other day, before her and Clarke started this bet, Lexa would’ve been over the moon to have been approached by such an attractive woman. Costia, as she’d introduced herself as, had long curly hair and twinkling brown eyes. From what she’d learned, Costia was a recent graduate, staying in Manchester when she’d been offered a job as a Psychologist’s research assistant. She was a tiny bit shorter than Lexa, cute and very warm. She was exactly Lexa’s type, and if – a few weeks ago – Costia would’ve sauntered in and bit her lip as she giggled at something stupid Lexa had said, Lexa would’ve asked her out there and then. But every time Costia did something or said something cute, all Lexa could think of was how Clarke would’ve responded to her. When Costia covered her mouth to laugh, Clarke would’ve let out a full belly laugh. When Costia averted her eyes shyly at a comment Lexa made, Clarke would’ve stared her down to challenge her. So, when it had been nearly half an hour and Lexa hadn’t asked her out or even asked for her number, Costia stood up from her stool beside the counter and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear.
“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime,” she said shyly.
“Well, you know where I’ll be,” replied Lexa, indicating to the counter in front of her. Costia gave one last small chuckle before she left the coffee shop.
“Well, you know where I’ll be,” Clarke mocked in a nasal voice that sounded nothing like Lexa. She had a cup in one hand and a tea towel in the other, wiping it down. Her gaze flitted up to lock eyes with Lexa when the brunette spun around to face her, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. With a snort, Clarke said, “Honestly, how cheesy.” Lexa placed her hands on her hips and looked down at the blonde.
“I didn’t realise I’d asked for your input about my conversation,” she quipped. Clarke just playfully elbowed her in the ribs as she walked past, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like ‘nerd.’ Clarke served the most amount of pumpkin spice drinks that Saturday.
At least I have game, Sociology nerd;)
Clarke elbowed her again, but Lexa just laughed.
Their last shift determining who won the bet arrived and it was something neither Clarke nor Lexa could get off their minds all day. It was the 31st of October, Halloween. Whoever had the served the least amount of pumpkin spice drinks would be crowned the official loser tonight. Sure, only Clarke and Lexa would be the ones present to witness the ceremony, but that didn’t make it any less serious in their eyes. If anything, it made it more serious. Lexa was there early, her apron on over her Halloween-themed jumper, waiting for the clock to turn two. Clarke bustled through the door, her hair damp from the short trip from the car to the shop in the rain. She threw on her apron and made it to the counter for exactly two. The scores were practically neck-and-neck, but neither were going down without a fight – even if that meant throwing in sneaky tactics.
“Our specials today are the pumpkin spice latte and pumpkin spice hot chocolate,” was Lexa’s go-to. When the customers looked at her, confused, she added, “Halloween special!” in a chirpy voice that almost made Clarke laugh aloud. She stopped laughing when Lexa’s tallies started going up.
“If you order anything pumpkin spice, you can get it large for the price of a regular,” said Clarke, grinning mischievously when Lexa shot her a look.
“Surely, that’s not allowed,” spat Lexa.
“It wasn’t in the terms. Oh, and I cleared it with my mum before I got here. Did I forget to tell you that?” asked Clarke, all faux innocence. Lexa felt a rage within her roar, but she couldn’t be mad with Clarke’s self-satisfied smirk playing on her lips. Lexa wanted nothing more than to kiss it off her.
At six, all the customers had left, and the sign now read ‘closed.’ Through the windows, Clarke spotted a few children already dressed up in costumes going trick-or-treating and it warmed her heart. She adored Halloween. She wasn’t even mad that she had to work. If anything, she’d been looking forward to it. However, Halloween meant the end of their bet. It meant the end of this stupid competition they’d found themselves in, and Clarke wasn’t ashamed to admit that she’d been loving every minute of it. But when Lexa pulled the huge whiteboard out from under the counter and placed it on top, Clarke felt nerves surface. All those shifts had boiled down to this. She made her way round the counter to stand beside Lexa, pulling out her calculator on her phone to add up her own tallies as Lexa did the same. As hers surpassed two hundred, she felt her heartrate spike. The pumpkin spice latte didn’t even matter. Clarke just wanted to win.
“Two-hundred and forty-six,” said Clarke as she pressed the equals button. She was wearing a wide smile, certain that she’d won. She watched, her nerves building, as Lexa finally pressed the equals button on her phone and looked up.
“Two-hundred and sixty-one,” Lexa almost-whispered. She’d won. She couldn’t believe it. Clarke was the first to react, dropping her head in her hands and letting out what could only be described as a wail. Then, Lexa laughed loudly. It was all just a silly bet so she could keep herself entertained on her shifts, but it had somehow turned into much more than that. She’d gained a friend and – although Lexa wanted Clarke as much more than that – she was happy for that outcome.
“Okay, okay,” Clarke began, holding up her hands defeatedly, “Congratulations on your win.” They shook hands and Lexa swore she felt electricity as their skin touched.
“Thank you, Clarke. Now, what will it be? Hot chocolate or latte?”
“Ugh, I don’t even care. Surprise me.”
Lexa grabbed a cup joyfully, picking up the whiteboard marker like it was second nature when she stopped in her tracks. What should she write on the last cup? She could feel a bit of a build-up, like it needed to be something smart and snappy. Or maybe it could be something meaningful, for once. An idea finally hit her, and she smiled to herself, hoping that Clarke wouldn’t react aversively.
As Clarke returned from the back room, hyping herself up to taste this pumpkin spice drink once and for all, she took the cup from a sheepish-looking Lexa. Clarke surveyed the drink and with one sniff, she could tell that it was a latte. Secretly, it was what she was hoping for. She was about to take a sip when she remembered their little tradition. Clarke peered around the cup, searching for the message when her eyes landed on the scribbled writing.
It was a phone number with a signature winking face at the end. Clarke felt her heart stop. It was such a simple thing to write down, but it meant something more. Sure, Lexa could be giving her number to Clarke so they could swap shifts or meet up outside of work as friends, but Clarke had an incline that this wasn’t about being friends. She decided to brush over it for now.
“Let’s get this over with,” she sighed, eyeing Lexa over the rim of her cup. She blew a little steam off the top and brought the cup to her lips, immediately being hit with the overbearing smell of pumpkin. She took a long sip, then another, and another.
“What’s it like?” Lexa asked. Clarke pulled a face as if to say ‘not bad’ then set the cup on the counter beside her, a cheeky look in her eyes. She licked her lips and watched as Lexa’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
“It’s actually okay. Want to try some?” asked Clarke, cocking her head to the side. Honestly, Lexa thought it was only fair that she had a sip. After all, the scores were so close. She gave a small shrug and a nod, glancing sideways at the cup, but clearly Clarke had other ideas. The blonde closed the gap between them, bringing one hand around the back of Lexa’s neck and the other on her shoulder. Instinctively, Lexa’s hands came to rest on Clarke’s waist, and they met in a soft kiss. It lasted only a few seconds, but Clarke could swear she saw stars. It felt like her whole body was on fire where Lexa touched her and Lexa felt the same, like she was floating. When they parted, Lexa subconsciously licked her lips and all she could taste was pumpkin spice and everything nice…
Less than a month later, Clarke and Lexa along with all the other employees of the coffee shop were gathered at the front after Griffin’s Ground Coffee had closed. Abby was stood at the front, looking out at her colleagues. She spotted her daughter absentmindedly playing with a thread on her hoodie. Beside her at the same table was her daughter’s new girlfriend, Lexa, looking at Abby expectantly. Abby liked Lexa, and she was glad that she’d gotten to know the girl as a worker and a friend before knowing her as Clarke’s girlfriend. Their relationship was new, but Abby was sure that it would last. No one challenged her daughter or brought out the best in her like Lexa did.
“Okay, so with Christmas just around the corner, we’re going to be bringing in our new flavour drinks,” Abby began when she was sure everyone was listening. This sparked Lexa’s curiosity as she glanced across at Clarke. Abby continued, “We’re going to have cinnamon lattes and hot chocolates, continue with our mint hot chocolates, continue with hazelnut lattes, and also introduce gingerbread lattes and hot chocolates, so they will be on our menus starting Monday.” The workers were dismissed moments later, leaving Clarke and Lexa sat alone while Abby put some stuff away in the back room. They were both looking at each other, matching grins on their faces.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Lexa asked, and Clarke’s smile broadened.
“On Christmas Eve, the loser has to drink a gingerbread latte,” said Clarke. They each held out one hand and connected them.
“May the best woman win,” said Lexa as they shook hands.
“May the best woman win.”