Chapter Text
I squint through the mist that’s rendered my glasses virtually impossible to see through at the simple wooden sign. Forks and Cups is lettered in a scrolling script with an outline of a coffee cup replacing the ‘u’ in ‘Cups’. It’s the first coffee shop I’ve seen in this tiny, gloomy town, so I shrug and push the door open, glad for a break from the miserable weather.
A little bell chimes to announce my arrival as I survey the interior of the little shop. It seems like a popular place to be: nearly every table is occupied by college students, chatting and poring over battered textbooks and typing furiously.
There’s one bored looking barista with copper hair leaning against the counter, and I dig my wallet out of my coat pocket and walk up to the register.
He doesn’t acknowledge me, so I clear my throat. “Hi.”
He turns to face me, and I realize that I can barely see his face, much less read his nametag with the raindrops covering my glasses and the way the lenses have fogged up since coming into the warm coffee shop.
“What can I get for you?” He asks flatly, clearly apathetic about his job, but I can’t help but notice how melodic and smooth his voice is.
“I’ll have an iced white mocha with no whip,” I say as I pull off my glasses and wipe them on my equally wet jacket.
“What size.” The barista says, not asks, because he says it so monotone that it’s more a statement than a question.
“Large, please.” I’ll need as much caffeine as I can get to get through the mountain of readings I need to finish before my classes later this afternoon. I give up on my glasses and slip them back on, relieved to find that they’re mostly dry.
The barista is already holding out the card reader to me, an impatient look on his… extremely handsome face. Wow. This guy is seriously gorgeous. His features might as well have been chiseled from marble, and his thick eyebrows and striking black eyes stand out against his pale skin. He looks about my age, so I assume he’s also a student at Forks Community College.
I recover quickly from my momentary stunned state at his nearly inhuman good looks and pay for my drink. The barista… Edward, according to his name tag, hands me my receipt without looking at me and picks up a plastic to-go cup, uncapping a sharpie and holds it poised expectantly over the side of the cup. “Name?” he asks.
“Y/n.” I watch as he writes my name on the cup in what resembles more of a font than the handwriting of any male college student I’ve ever seen.
I’m about to go look for a vacant table and wait for my drink when the bell jangles behind me and a surge of cold, damp air swirls into the shop, ruffling my wet brown hair. Edward goes rigid, his nostrils flaring, but his gaze doesn’t move to the door behind me. No, his black eyes snap to me, and that look of apathy is gone, replaced by an expression that I can’t quite decipher. He looks hungry, desperate, but at the same time he looks horrified, and his white hand is gripping the edge of the counter so tightly I worry that the thick slab of wood might actually snap.
I don’t take my eyes off of him, bewildered by this sudden strange behavior, but I hear the door closing behind me and the chatter of what sounds like another group of students moving towards the tables. The icy wind stops flooding into the room, and Edward relaxes minutely, though he’s so still it almost looks like he’s holding his breath. He doesn’t stop staring at me, though, and I wonder a little self consciously if there’s something on my face, or perhaps if I said something to offend him in the span of our thirty second interaction.
He doesn’t say anything else to me, though, so I give him an awkward close-mouthed smile and turn away, deciding to settle at a table by the window. I can appreciate the beauty of the dreary weather much better when I’m not caught in the drizzle, and I’m so absorbed in taking in the moody, dramatic way that the gray sky contrasts with the green of the forest that I nearly forget about the odd behavior of the insanely attractive barista.
“Y/n.”
That is, until his velvet-soft voice calls out my name, and I make my way back to the counter to grab my drink. He slides it across the countertop to me, standing very still, and I give him a puzzled look as I reach out for my coffee. “Thanks.” I decide to pretend to ignore his standoffishness and try to be polite.
Edward gives me a stilted little nod, black eyes boring into me, and it’s so disconcertingly intense that it almost makes me forget how beautiful he is. Almost. I suppose that pretty privilege really is real, because I’m willing to keep coming back to this coffee shop just to order coffee again from this man, even if he’s looking at me like I’m a little green alien that just crash landed my spaceship in the middle of Forks rather than an English major from Oregon.
“Oh, can I have a straw?” I ask him.
He nods again and grabs one from under the counter, holding it out to me. The movement of his arm must stir the air between us, because suddenly I can smell this soft perfume, reminiscent of a warm summer day when the lilacs are blooming, lush and sweet with honeybees landing in the blossoms with golden pollen clinging to their fuzzy little bodies.
The scent is utterly intoxicating, so much so that my hand pauses midair as I reach for the straw, so dizzied by it that I nearly forget what I’m doing. Is that his cologne? I’ve never smelled anything like it, have never been so drawn in by a scent. I mentally shake myself and take the straw from him, but I can’t keep from gasping as our fingers brush and Edward’s are ice cold. He jerks his hand away and gives me a glare, stalking through a doorway that must lead to the kitchen.
Huh. Does he have circulation issues, or something? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with hands as cold as Edward’s. And what did I ever do to offend him so badly?
I head back to my table and pull out my laptop to get started on my reading assignments. Well, Edward is going to have to get over whatever issue he has with me. This is the only cafe in town, and I’m not about to go through caffeine withdrawals and jeopardize my grades just because of one moody barista.