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Erik wiped down the coffee shop counter with a worn dishrag, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he worked. Glancing out the window, a wistful sigh slipped from his lips as he observed a young couple walking together along the snow-covered sidewalk, hand in hand, the woman smiling up at who was quite apparently her boyfriend.
How long had it been since he’d been in a relationship? Probably far too long.
However, after he’d been in a terrible car accident, leaving him half-deformed, half-blind, and dumped by his very superficial girlfriend, he wasn’t particularly eager to get attached to someone again. He longed to feel that close bond with another person, but any time the thought occurred to him, the memory of his ex-girlfriend calling his injury “horrific” and “monstrous” before she broke up with him caused such ideas to immediately cease. After all, he was sure she was right; who would want him now?
The couple passed the coffee shop window, and Erik caught sight of his flesh-toned mask in the reflection of the glass—something he now wore in public to spare onlookers from having to see the marred flesh and damaged bone structure that resulted from the accident. He glanced away from it and back down at the counter as he scrubbed away at a coffee stain from that morning.
He’d been so lost in his daydreaming, his mind miles away from his body, that he hadn’t even noticed the young woman who’d walked inside and approached the register, waiting quietly for him to come over. He wouldn’t have noticed her at all, in fact, if she hadn’t softly called out to him, “Monsieur?”
He started slightly, for she had been on the side of his blind eye, though he recovered himself enough to turn in her direction and give her an apologetic smile. “Terribly sorry, I hadn’t seen you,” he muttered softly as he tossed aside the rag and moved closer to her, having to dip his head to accommodate for the difference in their height.
“That’s alright,” the woman replied with a sweet smile, tucking one of her deep black coils behind her ear.
Erik nodded slightly to acknowledge the statement, running his hands down his apron. “What can I get for you, Mademoiselle?” he forced himself ask after a moment of staring—he hoped not too obviously—at her lovely face.
“A peppermint latte would be good, thank you. That will be all,” the woman said softly, the statement not even having left her mouth before she was reaching to pull her wallet from her purse.
“And your name?” Erik asked softly, only for his breath to catch in his throat when her deep brown eyes flicked up to meet his own.
“Christine,” she replied, her red lips tugging into another sweet smile as she passed over her payment.
Erik took her money with a small smile and a word of thanks before he watched her shuffle over to one of the empty tables. As he moved over to the coffee machine, he noticed the bewitchingly attractive customer open her bag and draw out a book. This, to Erik, made her all the more attractive. There was nothing, in his opinion, more enticing than a woman who liked to read. Even if it did mean he could likely never measure up to her standards.
Sighing inwardly, Erik moved his attention to making her warm beverage, though he couldn’t prevent himself from glancing over to her every now and then and watching her quietly read her book. He finally finished her drink by placing a peppermint stick in the cup and setting the mug on a small saucer. Though as he opened his mouth to call out her name and signal that her order was ready, he paused and quickly changed his mind, deviating from the usual procedure and instead deciding to carry her drink to her.
He noted as he approached that the novel in her hands was one of his favorites, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, and he smiled at their similar taste. Gently clearing his throat, he stepped closer and placed the cup and saucer on the table. “Here’s your latte, Christine,” he replied, speaking quietly so as not to disturb her reading too much.
“Hm? Oh, thank you,” the customer replied with a warm smile as she glanced up from her story. “That was fast.”
Erik gave an awkward little shrug. “Business is slow today,” he said with something of a chuckle. He then gestured to her book. “You have good taste.”
“You’ve read Great Expectations?” Christine replied, seeming delighted at the thought.
“I have, a few times,” Erik admitted with a nod. “I quite love Dickens’ writing. I thought it was so brilliant that the convict was Pip’s mysterious benefactor.”
Christine’s jaw dropped slightly at hearing this comment. “Wait, the convict? I didn’t know that yet. That is certainly brilliant!”
Though she seemed nonplussed at her book being spoiled for her, Erik felt nothing short of mortified, his pale complexion reddening. “Oh my, I- I’m terribly sorry. You appeared to have been close enough to the end to have known. I-I shouldn’t have spoken and given that away,” he stammered, mentally slapping himself for thinking it was a good idea to come talk to her in the first place. He should have just left her drink on the counter, called her name, and walked away, just as he did with every other customer. Why couldn’t he have left her alone, beautiful though she was?
“No, really, it’s alright,” Christine replied sweetly, letting out a soft laugh. “I’ve never been much bothered by spoilers. Don’t feel bad over it. I’m sure I’ll have forgotten by the time I reach that chapter, anyway.”
“Well…still,” Erik said quietly. “I’m truly sorry. I’ll just go back to my job now.” And before she could reply, he hurried away, praying that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
He served two more customers who had entered the café in his absence from the counter, and though half an hour had passed since the incident with Christine, it still gnawed at him. In his mind, there were few things worse than someone spoiling a good book, and though she claimed to not mind, he felt terrible for it.
Wishing to make it up to her, he decided to take a freshly baked, double-chocolate muffin—a treat the café was known for—over to her and quietly willed his hands to stop shaking as he set the plate down. Why was he this nervous? The woman was pretty, to be sure, but she was only some random customer. Had it really been so long since he’d been attracted to someone that he’d forgotten how to speak to a lady he fancied?
“Oh, I didn’t order a muffin,” Christine said as he slid the plate in front of her, plainly confused.
“It’s on the house. It’s…well, it’s an apology. From me. For spoiling your book,” Erik replied, unconsciously wringing his hands as he spoke. “I really am sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, though I will be eating the muffin,” Christine said with a chuckle as she marked her page and closed her book. “So…you like Dickens too?”
Erik’s brows raised slightly. Why was she making conversation with him? “I…yes, I am. Very much so.”
“Do you have a favorite of his novels?”
“Great Expectations would have to be it, I think.”
Christine nodded at the statement, breaking off a piece of her muffin to pop it into her mouth. “It’s wonderful, I can see why. A Tale of Two Cities is my present favorite, but I think this one may just surpass it. Two Cities is a hard one to beat, though.”
“It’s a wonderful work. Quite heavy, but beautifully written,” Erik agreed, feeling a bit more at ease as they spoke, since it was a topic he was familiar with. “I’ve always said that Dickens really knew how to write people; he had a phenomenal way of getting you attached to his characters.”
“I steadfastly agree. I think a good many authors today could take notes from Charles Dickens,” Christine said with a firm nod. “You seem very knowledgable about his work.”
Erik shrugged a bit, the way she was smiling at him—almost, he dared to think, as though she fancied him—making him have to look away lest he blush again. “I’ve just read a couple of his books,” he remarked dismissively.
“Well, then perhaps I shall have to return after I finish Great Expectations and ask your recommendation as to which of his novels I should read next.” Christine flashed him a smile as she stood up, slipping her novel back into her bag. “I should go, but I’ve enjoyed talking with you. I’ll certainly come back again soon.”
“I hope I’ll be here when you do,” Erik said earnestly, though disappointment at her departure creeped into the edges of his tone.
“As do I,” Christine replied. She swung her bag over her shoulder and picked up her muffin, then headed toward the door. Her steps paused with her fingers on the handle, though, as she turned to glance over her shoulder. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Erik,” he replied softly.
She smiled. “I’ll see you soon, Erik.”
His eyes remained glued to the door for a few moments after she had stepped outside, his mind trying to process what had just happened. Had she…flirted with him? Was he joking himself? He wasn’t sure. But he did know that he would be dwelling on that interaction for the remainder of his day, hoping, dreaming, praying that he would see her again.