Chapter Text
Life in Arcadia Bay's resident coffee shop is certainly strange. Max has been trying to convince herself otherwise over the past few months, but every day it's been getting harder to do. Despite the dismissals she constantly receives upon bringing the subject up, Max knows there's something odd about their quaint little store. The lack of customers, old food and barren environment are just a few of the things that send shivers down the petite hipster's spine.
Still, she can't complain. Max is lucky to have a job there at all, as she knows quite well. If it wasn't for Kate Marsh— full-time sweetheart, part time manager — she wouldn't even be getting a pay-cheque. Being best friends with her boss is just one of the perks Max has been grateful for over the past few weeks. It's definitely a new experience, she thinks to herself.
Max is awakened from her pleasant reminiscing by the grating sound of heels — clicking over the tiled restaurant floor. The brunette glances up from the counter to see a familiar looking customer, with short blonde hair and narrowed green eyes. Max has taken the girl's order countless times by now, and every occasion is a challenge in itself. The blonde always insists on having the most complex, personalized coffee, with only the richest and best ingredients. Every day for the past month she's sauntered in, crossed her arms, and asked for a random drink with some ridiculously long name, half the time something that's not even from the menu.
"I'll have a Venti non-fat, double shot, chocolate mocha with extra cream and no syrup," the girl states curtly, handing her barista a five dollar bill.
Max sighs, knowing that no amount of corrections or apologizes will shorten the girl's order. She starts to lift coins from the cash register when the blonde shakes her head, refusing.
"Keep the change. You clearly need it more than I do," she comments, eying Max up and down. It's almost as if she's trying to elicit a reaction from the girl.
"What's the name for the cup?" Max asks tiredly. She's too exhausted to even reply to the girl's snarky comments at this point.
"Victoria. You take my order almost every day, you should know that by now."
Max utters a blunt apology and then proceeds to turn around, going to prepare the drink. She just manages to find the proper sized plastic cup when the blonde speaks up once again.
"You don't get many people around here, do you?" Victoria asks. Her sarcastic tone has dropped, and now she sounds slightly more sincere. "Every time I come in here it's just you and two other customers around, at best."
"That's true," Max hums quietly, pouring a stream of frothy cream into the cup. "I have been doing most of the shifts around here lately, and I've noticed the same thing. You're one of my only regular customers." She glances around to look for the milk, an absent expression crossing her face.
"Do you like it here?" Victoria asks softly, tapping her finely manicured nails along the counter. There's an unusual tone in her voice which Max can't quite put her finger on.
"Yeah, it's pretty nice," Max admits. She puts the final touches on her caffeinated drink before explaining further. "Everyone who works here is like a little family, you know? It's sort of like a home away from home, as barren as it may be at times." She slides the warm cup to the patient customer and smiles. Somehow this conversation feels much better than their typical passive-aggressive arguments about coffee names.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Victoria states quickly, scooping the steaming cup away with a swipe of her hand. Before Max can say a word her back is turned, and she's strutting out of the café with her head held high. Odd, Max thinks to herself.
"She's a weird one," Taylor comments idly as she steps out from the kitchen. "Last time I worked the front counter, she refused to let me serve her, demanded that I find somebody else. And I hadn't even done anything to make her mad, she just up and told me she wanted someone else to take her order. She's such a freak."
Max stifles a laugh. "Don't be mean. I'm sure if the circumstances were different you'd get along fine. I can see a few similarities between you two."
Taylor scoffs. "Yeah, maybe if she had better taste in coffee we'd be best buds." She wipes the counter down with a cloth, stepping closer to her coworker. "Don't look now, but the creepy kid is here again. And he's staring at you."
Max sighs at the remark, shutting her eyes and covering up her face. One of the less enjoyable parts about working in the coffee shop happens to be a big-eyed brunette boy named Warren — at least she thinks that's his name — who shows up every Monday morning just to stare her down. Max knows that he doesn't try to be creepy, and he really is a decent guy. But at the same time she can't help but feel disturbed when he stumbles into the shop and sits down in his little both, typing away on his little computer without even ordering anything from the menu.
"I think he's kind of cute," Brooke comments, stepping past the two of them.
"You should tell him," Max murmurs quietly. "I could do without the extra attention."
Brooke opens her mouth to respond when the front door is thrown open, bell ringing loud enough to deafen the shop workers. Unfortunately, today just seems to be one of those days where they all get stuck with the worst possible customers.
A flash of blue crosses Max's field of vision, flickering just in front of the Warren kid. "Can I help you?" She asks nervously, stepping out from her place behind the counter.
"I'm good!" A lively feminine voice shouts to her. "Just here to snag some free samples, I saw your advertisements outside." The tall girl starts to sprint over to the nearby table, blue locks flying as she goes.
"Wait!" Max cries, reaching out a hand. Unfortunately, her protests go to no avail. Before she can stop her, the customer slips over the wet floor, flailing onto the free dessert table and scattering it's contents across the ground.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Taylor groans. "I just mopped the floor."
"Are you okay?" Max asks worriedly, pacing over to the fallen girl. "I did try to warn you that it's slippery around this part of the floor... Sorry."
"I'm fine," she winces. "It's my fault for running in a place like this. Though a wet-floor sign really would have been nice."
The barista smiles at the words, extending a single hand. "My name's Max."
"Chloe," she responds, wrapping her fingers around the brunette's and pulling herself to a stand. "Thanks for the help." She glances at the broken table and remnants of squashed dessert which dot the floor around her. "Shit, I didn't realize I made such a mess. Sorry about that."
"It's no problem," Max assures her. Though it really is. It'll probably take a fair amount of time and money to repair the damages, resources which the little coffee shop is so short of already.
"I don't have any money on me, but I'll repay you for the table. And the desserts," Chloe insists. She's wearing a guilty smile now, biting her lip lightly.
Max shakes her head. "Like I said, don't worry about it. Come take a seat, you look kind of light-headed." She turns her head to glance over at Brooke, who's approaching the two of them with a bag of ice. "Thanks," Max states quietly, accepting the package from her grasp. She tenderly places it against Chloe's forehead, sighing as she does.
Life at a coffee shop truly is strange.