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There was nothing Iuda hated more than an “influencer”. With their vapid smiles and grotesque need to document everything, he took absolute delight in covering the logo with their intentionally misspelled names. Take the perfect selfie like that, Britineigh. Ugh. He’d been working as a barista for 2 dreadful years and it had only gotten worse with Instagram and TikToks and cripes he hated when they entered the door with their phones already up like some ghoulish cyborg. He didn’t feel like he needed to explain further why the phenomenon of being ‘influenced’ was absolutely dreadful.
Dav smacked him on the arm, “Quit brooding, your favorite is on her way.”
Iuda sneers, “I have no idea what you are-“
The bell jingles. And she enters. ‘Just-Zi-is-fine!’ she’d chirped once. Short and sweet and with hair pinker than her cheeks and the cutest little freckles under trendy round glasses and ugh she was already smiling at him. Disgusting. She prattles something at her bubblegum pink phone – “And now for my favorite part of the day! What’s the drink of the day today?!”
Horrible. Just horrible. It was the second week of this. Every day she came in and asked for the drink of the day. Iuda didn’t make drinks of the day. That was a stupid gimmick for mlm tea shops and people who thought pumpkin spice lattes were actually good. But somehow somewhere this air headed princess got it into her gourd that he did. And his only coworker (the busboy Quinn was not a coworker. He did not like the implied peerage of that statement. The idiot couldn’t tell the difference between almond and soy milk much less a Colombian roast vs an Ethiopian) consistently stuck him with her. And worse, watched her insipid little videos. The worst part of it all though was her palate. She had yet to have a drink she didn’t enjoy. And she could identify every component. Horrible.
Iuda hissed as Dav winked and disappeared.
And the pink phone dropped a little, “Mr. Kythas?”
He huffed, turned away, and snapped the fridge open, pulling out the drink he’d started the second he’d clocked in. The better to muddle the flavors – maybe then she would struggle to parse them. He put on the finishing touches, trying to block her view. And slid it over.
She beamed, handing over her card and tapping the tip button on the little screen. Iuda carefully didn’t watch her type but glanced back as she took a sip. “Oh! Is that a French roast this morning? With… anise, vanilla, jasmine and… hint of nutmeg?”
He twitched. “… yep. Got it in one.”
She smiled and nodded, stupid phone still recording, little hearts bursting in the corner. A fucking live. Of course. Ew. She chuckled, “You have a steady hand and a good nose, Mr. Kythas! Last Friday’s was still my favorite! What do you call this one?”
“… Absense.”
“Oh like absinthe! I love it. Well, see you tomorrow, Mr. Kythas!” she chirped. And immediately giggled back at her phone.
Dav swooped back in, “You put anise in a coffee? Bro. Gross.”
Iuda huffed, “She likes sweet things. She was supposed to hate this one.”
“Bro. Stop trying to scare off customers. Especially ones you like.”
“I do not like her.” Her snarls, and starts wiping up the counter.
“Why are you blushing then?” Dav smiles.
Fuck.
Iuda hates influencers.
He especially hates how his face heats when Davorak shows him the video later that day. “Guys, this really cute barista and I have this game going where he makes me a more and more complex drink everyday. Let's see what today's is!"
“Is she mocking me?!” (she thinks I’m cute?!)
Dav just snorts. Fucking useless.
And so it goes.
“Vietnamese pour chicory with condensed milk and egg yolk!”
“South American drip with cinnamon, dark chocolate, mocha, cream, brown sugar, and Mexican vanilla!”
“Strawberry tea with acaii and vanilla!”
“Medium roast with banana, caramel drizzle, extra whip, cinnamon, dark caramel, honey, and dark cholate chips!”
“Earl grey with lavender and chamomile with… two shots of toasted marshmallow?”
“Italian espresso with sugar free vanilla whip and like… three pumps of hazelnut and one of peppermint!”
“Dark roast with limes and cherries!”
“English toffee and caramel over… a mix of teas? Yes! English black, rose hips… butterscotch? Calendula!”
“Ristretto espresso with whole milk foam, hazelnut shavings, mocha, and… is that raspberry?”
A month. A month of making increasingly ridiculous drinks. A month of cold kissed pink cheeks dimpling in smiles. A month of “Thanks Mr. Kythas”s and annoying winks.
The sixth Friday, he gives in. He admits defeat. He waits until he sees pink in the window and busies himself making a simple London fog. He hears Davorak greet her, feels her stare.
He slips off his apron and thrusts it at Dav, then stares at her for a moment. She blinks at the deviation.
“You win.” He thrusts over the tea.
She blinks, “I win? What do I win?”
“You have a refined palate – you can figure out any drink I throw at you.”
“Oh!” she beams, “Do I win a drink with you then?”
He blinks. And tiredly nods, snagging his own plain chamomile from behind the register and sitting. She pulls out her phone. Because of course she does. Vicious menace.
"Guys look who is joining me today! I'll post the results of what this could be later with an update." She shows off him and then the tea and then back to him. She beams and it is blinding, "I've been hoping you would join me!"
Iuda glares at the camera. And then what she said registers. He hates that he can feel his ears tip red. "Ah. Is that so?"
She tap taps at the phone and… puts it down. He blinks. She’s blushing.
“Oh absolutely. I…” a nervous giggle, “I was going to ask for your number soon. If I’m not being too forward.”
He just blinks. She… wanted his number? Now? (shit what was his number) While he floundered, she fluttered her eyelashes.
"Is Kythas you first or last name? Figured I should know since I'll share it some day.” She winks. (Demon.)
He stares, short circuiting. “I… uh… Shujae?”
"And how do you spell that? I want to make sure I know our last name well."
"I don't .... S-h-u-j-a-e...” He stumbles. She nods along. He looks over her shoulder to Dav desperately. The stupid man is giving him a thumbs up. He sputters out, “You are quite brazen aren't you Ms...?"
She holds out her hand, "Zielle Bryseis. But you could call me, anytime."
He shakes it gently, blinking, "Oh, I plan to." He beams. Maybe being influenced wasn’t so bad after all.