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Waverly Earp did not like coffee.
She also did not like Rosita Bustillos.
At least she didn’t like either of those things right now.
“Why are you making me do this again?” Waverly whined.
She dug her boots a little into the snow, hoping she would stick like a snow woman in place. Be left in the cold. Not have to go inside and be around people.
If only her best friend didn’t have the strength of a medium-sized Amazon, dragging her up that last step so they could go inside.
The cold wind disappeared as they got into the restaurant, Waverly’s red glasses fogging up from the quick change in temperature.
“Because,” Rosita said — like that was a full answer — her back to Waverly as she looked around the very packed restaurant. A hostess then approached them and asked how she could help.
As Waverly wiped the condensation off her glasses, she trailed behind Rosita and the hostess, who were happily chatting, feeling like a lost duckling following her mom.
“These are you,” the hostess smiled.
She took away two reserved cards off the bar, seating them on an end so no one else sat directly next to Waverly’s left, which also gave them a full few of the bar and all the action happening in the kitchen.
Waverly took off her two scarves, gloves, and her winter coat before she asked Rosita again, with more annoyance this time.
“Why are we doing this?” Waverly stage-whispered.
“Because,” Rosita started again, her brown eyes simmering with mischief. “You need to get out of the house more, and this was a perfect way to do it.”
Their staredown continued until Waverly rolled her eyes and sat down at the bar, knowing she would never be able to make a run for the door. She was met with a satisfied “hmph” from Rosita as she sat down next to her.
Her so-called perfect way to get Waverly out of the house consisted of taking her to a cocktail class where they would be making coffee-based concoctions.
And while the former bartender in her was interested in what cocktails they would be making, the other part of her was feeling meh about the whole thing.
Waverly just sighed, knowing in some part that Rosita was right, but the other part of her began to fantasize about her ratty blue sweats and the marathon of The Great British Baking Show she had been looking forward to for the evening.
That was her original plan before Rosita showed up at her house, banged on the door, and told her that she needed to go put on real pants with a zipper because they were going out.
And they were going out tonight.
Before Waverly could even object, Rosita was on her way to Waverly’s closet, shouting about the outfit she had already envisioned in her head for Waverly to wear today.
All of which was — much to Waverly’s misfortune — clean.
As they left the house, and Waverly’s loud sighing started, Rosita rolled her eyes and said this would be a good way to meet people or whatever.
This conversation about Waverly needing to get out more had been one the friends had had more times than Waverly could count since she had recently broken up with Champ for the final — she really meant final — time about three months ago.
While she could admit to herself that she had been done with Champ long before she broke up with him this time, he had become her home when they lived in the Big City together; he was easy to get along with, for the most part; and despite all his faults, and there were many, he had honestly and truly always loved Waverly.
He wasn’t even that upset when she dumped him, telling him that this wasn’t home, Purgatory was, and it was time for her to go back. He had just looked at her with earnest eyes and hoped she would be happy, whoever that was with, wherever that may be.
But home wasn’t Champ or the Big City anymore. It was Purgatory once again, a decision that had felt so right when Waverly set foot back on the porch of the Homestead, a bear hug awaiting her from Wynonna, Doc, and Alice.
And thankfully, the town itself had changed quite a bit since she had lived there last. Pride flags adorned most of the shops along Main St., there were now two vegan restaurants, and this very cute little bar that she found herself in tonight had recently opened.
She felt a small smile start on her face as she noticed the Pride flag up in the window from her view at the bar.
“Now, that’s one heck of a smile.”
The bartender — whom Waverly had somehow missed when they sat down — had commented, and Waverly now found herself staring at the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen. Warm irises with gold flecks spread throughout.
She continued drying a glass as she smiled back at Waverly, a dimple popping as she did. Waverly just kept staring… something about those eyes…
“This is the part where you say ‘thank you,’” Rosita said, bumping her slightly on the shoulder. “Sorry, my dear best friend — who is very single — doesn’t get out too much.”
“Well, lucky for me that she decided to come out tonight then,” the bartender said.
Her throat went dry, and Waverly could only cough out a thank you as the bartender turned around, a light laugh left in her trail.
“Jesus, she is hot. And was absolutely hitting on you, Waves,” Rosita smirked.
The blush started up Waverly’s face before she could stop it, cheeks now a light pink. She saw Rosita shake her head out of the corner of her eye, a small smile on her lips as she picked up a menu of what they would be making tonight.
As a mostly confident bisexual Waverly knew she could — to be frank and have the confidence of a mediocre cis straight white man — get it. And she could admit the outfit Rosita had picked out for her had been a good choice. She knew the white blazer sleeves showed off her forearms, and the flower print top with the high neck was full of colors that complemented her eyes and general complexion, blushing notwithstanding.
But something about having to put herself out there again in a way she hadn’t in a very, very long time made that confident light dim slightly. Even when she was very clearly getting hit on by a very attractive woman.
Lost in thought, Waverly’s eyes went back to the bartender, who was talking to a couple of other patrons. Her eyes roamed, catching a tattoo above her left elbow, which looked like coordinates to somewhere.
She couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something seemed familiar about those numbers and letters, like she had seen that tattoo once before. Back then, it had been the longitude and latitude of where a redheaded woman had found her cat. A cute little tabby someone had left outside her apartment, if Waverly remembered correctly.
And maybe… yes, the last time she had seen a tattoo like that in that specific spot on someone’s body had been on one of the most beautiful women Waverly had ever seen at a frat party in college.
That night had ended so badly that the thought of ever running into the woman again made Waverly’s shoulders go up to her ears.
She tried to rack her brain — at least on the part of that night that hadn’t been utterly embarrassing — for that woman’s name. The evening was so foggy from all the alcohol consumed and time, it had been almost 10 years ago.
Details came back from that party here and there, and yet, Waverly still couldn’t quite put her name and the woman at the party’s face together. A key element missing. She could only remember her sister had had a field day with her last name when she had heard the whole story.
Hot Potato.
Ginger Spice.
Red Hot.
Suddenly, it hit her like a slap in the face, and Waverly sat up a little straighter when she finally remembered her name had been —
“Hi y’all, I’m Nicole, Nicole Haught, and I’ll be leading tonight’s class,” the bartender smiled. “I hope you like coffee. Personally, I’m a cappuccino kind of gal.”
***
“Shit, shit, shit,” Waverly muttered to herself. This was not happening right now. She could feel her eyes were as big as saucers, sweat prickling at the base of her neck.
She could only imagine how red her face currently was.
“Rosita.” She smacked her in the thigh. Hard. “Rosita, we have to go. Now.”
Her friend pivoted so slowly that Waverly felt like she was in sand, watching as one grain, bit by bit, moved. She raised her eyebrow and asked why in the world they would do that.
“Because,” Waverly replied, hoping her best friend wouldn’t make her say anymore. Hoping she could tell this was not a story she wanted to get into now, mere feet away from the beautiful woman who had… nope, Waverly was not revisiting this. Not until she was safely away from the restaurant and at home, where she could be embarrassed in peace.
If she could have, Rosita would’ve arched her eyebrow even higher, still waiting for an actual answer.
Her eyes looked over Waverly’s, and if she knew one thing about her friend, it was that she would not give up on this until Waverly said at least a few more words.
“Because,” she said with panic lacing her voice. She knew she looked frantic, but she didn’t care. “Do you remember our senior year of college when we went to that frat party after I broke up with Champ for the second time and the women’s basketball team had just won the Conference Championship?”
Rosita began to ponder, then locked eyes with Waverly — but not before getting one more look at Nicole, who was getting the ingredients together for each person’s first drink, an Espresso Martini. Waverly knew the moment Rosita knew what night she was talking about because her eyes also went round, mirroring Waverly’s face from a few moments earlier. She looked at Nicole, then Waverly, then Nicole again, then Waverly once more, Waverly’s panic building as each second ticked by and her time frame to leave without being called out and noticed was getting shorter and shorter.
“Wait…” But instead of round eyes staring back at her, all Waverly saw was plotting. Plotting, she knew she would want very little to do with.
“Don’t you dare, Rosita. We are leaving and not talking about this for at least an hour. I'm getting my coat and we are gooooing.” Waverly had had enough and started to take her one scarf from her coat sleeve.
She began to pull the scarf out when Rosita grabbed her hand, stilling her and making her look up. The mischief and plotting were still there, but something else was too, something Waverly couldn’t quite put together.
“Ok, put your scarf back in its sleeve. Calm down,” Rosita said, gently tucking the scarf back into place. “But before I continue, I wanted to double-check we’re talking about the same thing.”
Waverly saw Nicole passing out ingredients to other patrons along the bar and Waverly’s palms began to sweat as she got closer to them.
“This is the woman who — after you drank almost an entire bottle of tequila because you were sad about Champ and yelling that you were going to die alone — turned you down when you tried to kiss her?” Rosita leaned closer. There was that plotting again. “The woman who you then felt so embarrassed by that you didn’t let her explain why she had said no, dragged me away from the very good-looking man I was flirting with, and we barely got two steps out of the house when you threw up all over your favorite Doc Martens?”
“Wow, thank you for allowing me to remember that in such vivid detail,” Waverly groaned.
Her body began to relive the night again, feeling the anxiety and anger and tequila that had come with it. And now, feeling second-hand embarrassment for her younger self.
That night had been weird from the start. Waverly had just broken up with Champ — for the second time, mainly because she was sick of watching him play video games all day, even though he claimed that to be romantic, something only a 22-year-old boy man would — and she was in A Mood. One of those moods where her feelings felt too big for her 5’2” body and she needed to get out, she needed to move.
(She also knew that she needed to get out so she would one, stop feeling bad for dumping Champ, and two, not do something stupid like go kiss Champ.)
So when Rosita had told her there would be a bunch of hot basketball players and free drinks at a celebration party within walking distance from their apartment, Waverly had thought that it would be at least a semi-good plan for the evening.
(Plus, she had always had a thing for basketball players, both men and women. Something about how tall they all were always did it for her.)
The night had started out mostly fine. She had danced, losing herself on the dance floor as all her anxiety and stress went away with each sway of her hips and sip of her drink.
Waverly had lost Rosita at one point, but didn’t really mind too much. She knew a handful of people there, so she always had someone to chat with, and while she was doing so in the hallway, her eyes caught someone in the kitchen.
A woman who was clearly beautiful even through the beginnings of Waverly’s tequila-soaked haze.
Warm brown eyes met hazel and all around her had disappeared. Nicole had smiled with that dimple and Waverly moved towards her and sat down. They introduced themselves and after that, Nicole’s friends had gone to dance and talk outside the kitchen. Then it was just the two of them, quietly getting to know each other as the party continued around them. Loud sounds outside but quiet where they were, as if nothing was outside the bubble they had formed.
Hours had felt like minutes, but when Nicole’s friends came to get her to leave, Waverly had taken a deep breath, and asked Nicole if she could kiss her. She had watched as brown eyes turned dimmed just slightly, a small frown on her face, and Waverly knew in that moment she had read the entire evening wrong.
Before Nicole could give much of a reply other than a whispered no, Waverly was on her feet, dragging Rosita away from a man with impressive biceps and ran outside.
That night had gone from great to one of the absolute worst of Waverly’s entire time at college. And now, here she was, mere feet away from the beautiful woman who had turned her down.
“Are you done?” Rosita asked, shaking Waverly out of her thoughts.
“Done with what?” Waverly asked, noticing that the bar was full now with zero recognition of all these other people arriving.
“Done going down a very vomit-filled memory lane?” Rosita smirked.
“I — wasn’t doing that,” Waverly pouted, crossing her arms across her chest, arming her defenses for whatever Rosita was about to say.
“Ok, then.” Rosita patted her hand, the look of plotting back behind her eyes. She leaned forward and whispered, “What if we took this moment as an opportunity for you to try again?”
A lump began to form in Waverly’s throat. She knew her friend well enough to know where this was going, and no matter how confident she was now, you don’t easily get rid of an embarrassment like what had happened with Nicole many years ago.
Or at least Waverly Earp didn’t.
But then Nicole dropped their ingredients off in front of them and made a point to linger, her hand on the bar, full of silver rings and more freckles; her eyes golden brown with a smile that reached them; and maybe, just maybe, a look of recognition.
A small moment of maybe something.
***
In between cocktails one and two, Nicole had winked at Waverly, followed by Waverly’s face feeling like fire.
That may have also been the vodka.
***
When she was taking her third sip of her espresso martini, Waverly was caught staring, and Rosita nearly ended up with a cocktail in her lap.
That’s what she got for telling Waverly to just talk to her and see if she remembered her and tell Nicole she should let her kiss her now because she’s gotten very good at it over the years.
(Rosita would know, given the one time they had had too much champagne and kissed a little. Both had decided that while the kissing was decent, they felt like they had just kissed their cousin.)
Their laughter had caught the ears of Nicole, though, who looked back at them while she helped out another guest with their drink, and her smile was warm, like the first sip of coffee on a Sunday morning, when the temperature of the drink was just right. And there was more lingering. More moments of shared feeling between them.
Maybe the thought of trying again, or at least trying to talk to her like a normal human who maybe flirted a little, wasn’t the worst idea Rosita had ever had.
***
The second cocktail, a Mocha Mezel, had been smoky and delicious and had definitely not led to Waverly spending the entire time watching Nicole shake drinks with ice, a necessity in the cocktail.
She may have taken off her blazer at that point to show off her own arms while she shook her cocktail shaker.
If Nicole had taken an extra glance at her, she didn’t mind it.
In fact, she smiled proudly back at her.
***
By the last coffee cocktail creation for the night, Waverly had that familiar warmth that came with a few drinks. A comforting glow around her and Rosita as they finished up their Siciliano, a light and airy aperitif to finish the night with.
Most of the other patrons had left, with just Rosita and herself at the end of the bar; Nicole chatting with a few on the other side as she cleaned up from the coffee cocktail class.
“Sooooo…” Rosita took a sip and smiled. “Are we staying until those people leave so she can come over here and I can very conveniently find myself somewhere else for a few minutes?”
“Or do you need me to finish my drink in a few very large gulps?”
Rosita took a large sip for emphasis, too large. Waverly watched as her cheeks puffed out and her eyes watered; she tried not to laugh as she wondered if her friend was about to spit out her cocktail. She finished the drink and started to laugh, loudly, they both did.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone have as much fun as you two did tonight at one of my classes.” Nicole’s eyes sparkled as she began to wipe down the bar in front of them, the other couple at the bar now gone. “I have been watching you two all night, and honestly, I was a little bit jealous to be on this side of the bar.”
“What can we say, Haught? We’re a fun duo to be around,” Rosita smiled. She set her glass down then just… walked away.
Waverly was going to punch her in the boob.
Because now, here she was, alone, with Nicole, who had a very adorable worry wrinkle forming on her forehead.
“Was it something I said?” Nicole asked, genuine worry on her face. “That was a weird thing to say, wasn’t it? I just meant… you two really seemed to be enjoying yourselves tonight, and it made me feel like I was doing a good job.”
She began to rub the back of her neck as she continued, a habit that Waverly remembered from the night they met. Maybe she wasn’t the only nervous one here.
“Sometimes I get people who barely talk at these things or don’t like the cocktails and this was the first coffee related class so every time someone looked a little bit like they would rather be anywhere else I found myself looking over at you and your constant smiles, and you’re both very pretty, obviously, and I don’t know if you remember me, but we’ve met before and I didn’t know how to bring that up without being weird and I’m not sure you remember me and god, it is hot in here?”
Somewhere in the maze of Nicole’s monologue, Waverly had heard the thing she wasn’t sure she wanted to all night. That Nicole had remembered her. That Nicole knew who she was. That she was probably the butt of the joke to all of Nicole’s friends as she retold that story over the years of their meeting.
“It’s Waverly, right?” Nicole said. She undid her top two buttons while she waited for Waverly to answer. Her smile was still uneasy, like she wasn’t sure if she had crossed a line somewhere.
“Um, yeah, that’s, that’s me.”
Apparently, they were just going to jump right into this. “I’m surprised you remember me, well, I’m not, given what a mess I was the night we met. There had been a lot of tequila.”
“Ah, yes,” Nicole’s smile perked up again, the unease slipping off her face. “I remember you mentioning that you had a steel liver during every drink you took, which were in between some really great stories and details about you and your friends, and your family. I still wonder about Wynonna from time to time.”
Waverly could only imagine what tidbits she had said about Wynonna that night. Her sister always made for interesting stories to tell.
“Mostly, I was just glad the most beautiful woman I had ever seen on campus, dozens of times during those four years, was actually talking to me,” Nicole whispered, but looked Waverly in the eye when she did. “Not sure there would have been enough tequila in the world to make me brave enough to do that.”
“Oh.”
Good response, Waverly thought to herself.
Nicole’s face began to fall a little, and Waverly wasn’t quite sure why she was the one who seemed embarrassed by this. Waverly had been the one who had gotten turned down, had thrown up on her shoes, and had spent years trying to erase away the embarrassment.
Nicole began to back away, but before she could, Waverly grabbed her hand. No one was going to run away this time.
There were a lot of things running through Waverly’s mind right now — that Nicole had spotted her on campus, that her emphasis was on what they talked about, no mention of how tequila she had, or how much of a mess she had felt like that night — but there was one she kept going back to.
“I have a question,” she said. Waverly’s fingers ran over Nicole’s wrist. “If you had thought all those things, why did you turn me down when I tried to kiss you?”
At this, Nicole’s face turned bright red, and it may have been one of the sweetest things Waverly had ever seen.
Maybe that night had been kind of weird for them both, and Waverly was only seeing that now. Hindsight can be 20/20 and all that.
Nicole’s eyes went to the ceiling, then she took a deep breath, clearly counting herself down before she looked back at Wavely. The vulnerability behind her eyes was clear as day.
“Have you ever met someone and instantly known in your heart that they’re going to mean something to you?” Nicole asked.
Waverly thought back to that party, the ease she felt with Nicole, the way that whole night had felt like no time had passed as they sat there for hours, how, for the first time in her whole life she felt like someone was actually listening and interested in the words she had to say.
It had been 10 years, and Wavely still knew in her gut and her heart that Nicole had made her feel safe and wanted in their time together.
So yeah, she might kind of get that.
“I knew a first kiss with you was going to be life-changing,” Nicole said. “And I knew it deserved a better time and place than in a loud frat house kitchen surrounded by a bunch of people we didn’t know, where you had tequila breath, and I can guarantee mine smelled like beer.”
Nicole’s words took Waverly’s breath away. Life-changing. She knew their first kiss was going to be life-changing.
No one had ever spoken to Waverly this way, and she wasn’t sure why, but Waverly believed her. Their first kiss would change the world for both of them.
Maybe life-changing could start now.
“Well, I believe we have an opportunity to try again?” Wavely asked, feeling brave, as Nicole smiled back at her. “If you want.”
Nicole’s smile lit up the room, and there they were again, just Waverly and Nicole, in a room full of people with eyes only for each other, full of the possible adventure that could be ahead for them both.
“Should probably start by asking for her number first, Waves.” Rosita grinned, taking her seat back at the bar.
“Oh, yeah, do you want to…” Waverly trailed off, looking for her phone.
“Yes, yes, absolutely,” Nicole nodded.
Nicole handed her phone to Waverly and vice versa, each taking a moment to exchange numbers.
Waverly handed it back and smiled, a lightness in her stomach that hadn’t been there in a long time.
A feeling of something that could be.
A feeling of possibility for her and Nicole.
Maybe. Maybe this time.
“Great,” Nicole smiled. “I’ll give you a call. Maybe a coffee soon? Tomorrow?”
“That sounds great,” Wavely replied.
They smiled at each other for a few more minutes before Nicole’s manager announced last call. An apologetic look formed in those brown eyes that Waverly was beginning to like looking at more and more.
“I should probably…” Nicole hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Bye, Waves.”
“Bye, Nicole,” she smiled. “It was really good to see you tonight.”
Waverly and Rosita gathered up their things and made their way out of the bar, Rosita’s smirk growing as they got closer to the door.
“Bet you loveeeee coffee cocktails now,” Rosita said with a full smirk. “And me, obviously.”
“Maybe,” Waverly replied, a smile still on her lips as they walked down the street.
A smile that lasted well past the time she got home.