Work Text:
“Wash the mugs, get another rag for the expresso machine… I’m forgetting something”
“Ava, you’ve literally said three times that you need to wash the mugs. There is no one else working here right now so why don’t I help you out and we can get it done?” Jack says... I think? I’m not listening very carefully to him because I’m lost in my own thoughts. But I'm aware that he is offering to help, and I know his offers to help me need to be shot down immediately. Jack is what most people would call a “man of action”: he offers, and doesn’t usually wait for a response before springing to action.
“NO!” I say, and it sounded more like a squeak than anything else resembling human sounds. A few patrons looked at me, clearly the new people that don’t come here often. The regulars know I scare easily and usually produce weird sounds when startled. Life is a little less boring with sound effects, it’s what I tell myself in the moments after when I feel embarrassed about my reactions.
“I’m helping you and it’s final. I don’t want to get in the way of your work, and since you don’t take my offers to let me help with the other stuff, I’ll help you out here” Jack continues, trying to argue a moot point. He knows dam well I’m not letting him help. Ever.
“Nope, I’m good. I can handle it,” I say back, putting a pastry in front of him to get him busy with something else that isn’t trying to solve my problems for me. As lovely as it is that he wants to help, and as much as my stomach flutters at the thought of having him close, boundaries are essential in my situation. I just can’t do that. I can’t jeopardize this friendship we fought too hard to maintain over the years. I won’t be a burden to him, or anybody else.
“Suit yourself, but I’m going to stay right here and be your moral support,” He says, grabbing the lemon cake I put in front of him with not a care in the world that the crumbs were dirtying his very precious suede jacket. I watch as he does it because it’s truly a beautiful sight. His eyes close as he bites into the cake, humming a happily satisfied noise as the taste of cake hits his senses.
As much as he hates to admit it, Jack is that kind of guy. You know, the type that can’t go to a bar and not get hit on while trying to buy a drink at the bar. The type where people will slow down while walking past him, especially when he is smiling. He is just that guy: the one that makes you swoon over the small little things because he is just a lovable ball of energy that lights the streets as he walks on by. Life is never not good for him. He has a job he is perfect for and is successful at, his parents are still married and in love, and he donates to charity… There is nothing unlikable about this man and it shows.
It’s clear, the moment you spot him, that he is just one of those naturally happy people and the only thing he complains about is the weather when it really hits extreme conditions in January/February. And it’s a half-hearted complaint, with undertones of fondness because you bet he is going to go out there and help kids build snowmen and mediate snowball fights.
A hand waves in my face and I’m snapped back into the present. What did I promise myself again? Oh yes: no daydreaming about the friend you almost lost. Not anymore. You can’t lose him; he is the only thing that keeps you sane. In my tomfoolery of admiring the beautiful chestnut-haired man in front of me eating a pastry, I didn’t realize I had set myself in my classic “four-stance” move and lost my balance. The mugs I was clinging to and about to take to the sink to wash slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. I cross my fingers and hope to the gods of coffee that they don’t break. The sound is horrifying, but as I regain my balance and look down, they are intact. Thank you, bean water overlords. The last thing I need is my paycheck being hit by an expense from having to purchase fancy Italian porcelain mugs for this place I barely stand to work at. It takes me a bit too long to notice Jack has gripped my arms, to help me balance. It’s an innocent gesture, don’t read into it, I think.
“Ava, are you ok? You almost feel down there” He says, not letting go of my arm.
“I’m good. You know me, just off in my thoughts again. Much ado in the life of Ava,” I play it off, so he doesn’t get any funny ideas.
“You were staring at me weirdly. Want to tell me about what’s going on in the pretty head of yours?” He gives me his shy smile. The one that he saves for the awkward moments when he reveals that he is more perceptive than people give him credit for.
“Nothing much, just admiring how you can appreciate a pastry that is from two days ago and probably tastes stale, but you don't like a fancy 5-course meal your family caters every other week.” Yes! Jackpot! Deflect, and get him talking while you calm down because you have almost been found out in your daydreaming about your best - and basically only - friend.
“Hey, it’s not my fault they don’t listen to me when I say I get sick with seafood. And you know the McCalisters, there must be at least one fish dish every time they do a fancy dinner.” Jack rebuts with something I know dam well.
“Jackson, your family runs imports and exports and has contracts with multiple businesses that buy and sell seafood. Your uncle is a chef at one of the best Greek restaurants in the country. Seafood is a family staple in your household. It’s to be expected that it’s going to be present in every family dinner.” I fight back because he knows I know way too much about him and he needs to be reminded of that sometimes.
“Well, thank you Avery for your fine commentary about things we both are tired of arguing about.” He tries to bite back, but I just know he is about to laugh. “Unlike seafood, this pastry does not care about my family legacy and it’s perfectly content in not generating anything but wonderful smells and a delicious taste as soon as it hits my tongue. The best thing about it is I don’t have to look for random spines and pieces of bone while eating it. It’s honest, soft, and delicious from the moment I put it in my mouth. So so yummy.” He replies, putting another piece of cake in his mouth.
This time, he stares at me while he does it. His hazelnut eyes don’t blink as he bites into the cake and chews it. I don’t say anything else because I’m just a bit mesmerized by him like I am all the time because it’s hard to believe that we’ve been able to get this back. I’m a woman that likes to appreciate the little things in life.
“OH! I need more toilet paper!” I suddenly remember that pesky item that I’ve been meaning to remember but always forget when I get to the bathroom in the coffee shop. I’ve been trying to remember all morning what I was forgetting because I just knew I was forgetting something.
Jack loses it, doubling over laughing, and gripping the counter for support. Crumbs are spilling over his mouth because he wasn’t finished chewing. He swallows the piece of cake, has a sip of water, and says: “Oh Ava, never change. I love you just the way you are.”
As he looks at me, his gaze looks different. The shy smile is gone and he is giving me this open admiration look. Like the fact that I forgot to put more toilet paper in the bathroom is something of a masterpiece. He looks at me like he admired fine art that one time we hopped on the train to New York to catch an exhibit at the MoMA. I didn’t know what I was looking at, but Jack stared at the Van Gough painting like it was the best thing in the world. I know that is the look because I couldn’t care less that we were looking at this famous painting, I was distracted from looking at him.
I have to come back to reality, once again. I do this a lot. “I have to put more toilet paper in the bathroom before I forget. That is what I was trying to say.” I say, trying to steer the conversation. I move behind the counter into the stock room, to get the freaking toilet paper before another patron complains.
“Yeah, I know you were trying to say something. You were so lost in your thoughts I was trying to regain your attention to help you find the thing that you couldn’t remember but I think I might have scared you. Then you dropped the mugs and got distracted again. And you remembered the thing so mission accomplished?” He says this with no malice or ill intent. I think he just knows me too well, “And here we are. You are getting the forgotten item and I’m polishing off another piece of cake. Such is the life of Ava and Jack on this fine Friday afternoon,” He goes on because he knows I like it when he fills the empty space with conversations as I do mundane tasks in this job I can barely stand.
As I’m coming back from the toilet paper run and about to turn on the sink to wash the stupid forgotten mugs, Jack speaks up again. “So, Aves, before you went into dreamland I wanted to ask you something,” he says, looking at me with that weird admiration look again.
“Oh what do you need?” I reply, waiting for him to ask before turning on the sink.
Before he can speak, the door opens and two people walk in. Great! Now I’m curious and will probably spill coffee on myself as I do their order because I just need to know what Jack was about to ask me. Oh well, he probably wants me to go somewhere his family wants him to be with him so he is not stuck in pointless conversation all night. For a happy-go-lucky guy, he really doesn’t like to mingle. I also don’t like to mingle, but I take the opportunities I get to have a piece of Jack just to myself.
I then notice that the two customers are very likely a couple, by the way the woman is gripping the arm of this very tall man and smoothing his hair from his face. It’s unfair, how they just walked in looking like they came from a shoot for a cover on a magazine when it’s negative temperatures with the wind outside. She is all long legs, long hair of soft brown waves cascading down her shoulders past her chest, and looks way too nice for having been out in the cold. Her jeans fit her perfectly, as does the light brown winter coat that looks warm and cozy. She wears an oversized fit as if she’d invented it. Her light coat and jeans contrast well with her burgundy turtleneck, and her black booties tie the look together.
While she is all soft and wonder, the man looks like he never abandoned the emo look, but evolved it into an adult version. He is all black, on black, on black, on black, with grey having an honorable mention. Black scarf, black jeans, black shoes, black coat, and a grey Henley t-shirt. They are almost complete opposites as they both stare at the chalkboard menu above my head. Where she is soft smiles and eager to embark on a new caffeinated experience, he is closed off and barely glanced at the menu. But it’s the way that he looks down at her while she chooses her order that gives him away. He looks at her like she is a precious jewel.
She’s still staring at the menu when she has enough of holding his arm and drops her hand. She takes off her gloves, and then his. She stores both sets of gloves in her pockets, takes his hand, and gives it a squeeze looking up at him with a soft smile.
She holds the man’s gaze with wonder in her eyes and they have a silent conversation with each other.
“Ready?” She asks.
“With you, smart-ass? I’m always ready,” He replies, giving her a tiny smile just for her.
Jack and I are silent throughout this exchange. Well, I’m silent. I give him my best smile, the one that shows my teeth, and pretend I listen to him while I move to the computer to take the couple’s order.
“Hey, welcome to Austria Café, what can I get for you?” I ask, switching to my best imitation of a happy barista voice that I can muster while Jack leans on the counter and tucks his hand under his chin, watching my every move. Gosh, why must he be so smooth?
“I’ll have the chocolate explosion hot chocolate, with all the frills and extra whipped cream, and grumpy here will have just a plain black coffee,” She says, giving the man an affectionate pat on the chest as she refers to him as “grumpy”.
“Bottomless, please” He adds, pulling his wallet from his pocket without taking his eyes off of his girl.
“You pay, and I will go look for a table,” She says, squeezing his hand one last time and giving me a thank you as she moves away.
“It’s going to be $8 dollars, are you paying cash or card?” I say, as I put their order in and start crumbling the chocolate to melt it for the over-priced hot chocolate.
“Oh, can you add more things to the order? You can do another order if it’s too much trouble, I’ll just pay for this one first?” He blurts out, like talking doesn’t come naturally to him. He is looking at a point behind me as he says it, and I’m not sure he is very comfortable with asking for things.
“No worries! What would you like to add?” I ask, canceling the transaction and going back to the menu, “It’s no trouble at all,” I add, just because he seemed to need the reassurance.
He breathes a sigh of what I assume is a relief. What a sweetie. “Two croissants, and a piece of your sweetest cake. Preferably chocolate,” He said it so fast I was hitting buttons at top speed.
“Sure thing, anything else?” I add, just to make sure.
“No, thank you. If you could warm up the croissants that would be great. Oh! And could you do a heart on the disgusting chocolate beverage my wife got? I like to tease her for her questionable taste in coffee but I do it with love.” He says, seeming to be a bit more ok with our interaction. The mention of his wife directs his gaze to her, sitting at a little corner table by the windows. He gives her that shy smile again, and the way he talks about her it’s like she is the one thing that matters in this life. Very cute, but I think I’m going to be sick. Or have a good cry in the bathroom after finishing their order. Good thing I put more toilet paper in there! He pays and moves to the table with her. She is talking animatedly about something while he holds her hand and draws patterns on her knuckles. It’s like he touches her to gain some energy.
I go to the back to make their order without acknowledging Jack’s presence again. I can’t do it right now. I’m overwhelmed as I consider my current predicament.
Well, I’m a fool and I like lying to myself. Because I really did think I could avoid Jack, but he just follows me to the other counter next to the machines as I prepare the drink and warm up the croissants. Why must coffee shops be open-concept kitchens? Let me go brood in peace.
“Hey crabby, do you want me to bring these drinks for the table while you go wash the mugs?” Jack asks. He is still leaning on the counter and I can’t help but admire the way he just moves so effortlessly through life. The way he is unapologetically himself.
“Crabby?” I bite back in the form of a question because it’s the only thing I can do as boiling milk is pouring into a mug and I’m trying not to get splashed in the face.
“Yeah, it’s your new nickname,” He says, liking his fingers for what I can only assume is the lingering frosting from the lime cake. That’s his favorite part, as he always reminds me.
“How come? Don’t I look like I’m living my best life right now?” I avoid his eyes as I ask, a bit perplexed and trying not to show as I do the silly heart I with chocolate in the woman’s drink.
“I got it from the woman you are making that chocolate explosion for. She called the guy grumpy, and I kinda love that. Since you and the raven dude give me the same ‘please don’t acknowledge my existence if you are going to waste my time’ vibe, I decided to go for a synonym that matches your personality. I think crabby is just perfect, don’t you?” He says like it’s the most logical thing.
He gave me a cutesy nickname. He got the idea for said cutesy nickname from an adorable couple that looks so in love there might actually be a picture of the two of them under the dictionary definition of the word love. What the hell is jack getting at?! “Well, you should be crabby instead of me. After all, you hate seafood yet your family’s bread and butter is literally fish and crabs,” I reply, trying to for a cheap joke to get me out of my spiraling hole.
“You wound me, Aves, I’m not sure why I’m your friend if you are just going to insult me every time,” He says, and I know he is joking the moment I look up and he winks at me. Damn you, Jackson.
“That’s what old friends are for,” I say, with no force to it, coming out more like a whisper than an actual reply. I turn my back to him to regain some composure before my body betrays me by blushing. Thanks, mom, for passing down the facial structure of chubby cheeks to your offspring.
“Yeah, friends. Best friends, because that’s all we are right Ava?” Jack mutters, very quietly. I’m not even sure he said it at first, as I walk to the couple with their order. As I return, Jack is not there anymore. I could have imagined the whole thing, but my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out and read the notification.
My favorite Jack(ass): Sorry for disappearing on you. Thanks for the day-old cake, but I had to head back to the office.
I frown, because he was the only thing helping me get through my shift. I move to put my phone back into my pocket but it buzzes again.
My favorite Jack(ass): BTW thank you for going to the dinner with me tonight! I’ll pick you up at 19:00 at your place.
My favorite Jack(ass): Wear the navy blue dress from my bday last year, it looks amazing with your hair.
My favorite Jack(ass): Oh and most importantly: thank you for always remembering that my one true love is lemon cake. You’re the best, Aves!
Oh well, I’m screwed.