Chapter Text
The first time Wally Clark lays eyes on Maddie Nears, she is crouched behind the counter at Sips & Ships, fully engrossed in a hushed (and obviously tense) conversation over the phone. He waits for a full minute, his eyes awkwardly flicking from the espresso machine, past the Titanic poster on the wall, to the ceiling and back again, but when it becomes blatantly obvious that Maddie will not be noticing him anytime soon, he clears his throat to get her attention.
She jerks up, shock and embarrassment washing over her face as she scrambles to hang up her call. “Sorry,” Wally mouths. He can’t help but think she’s cute – her blonde bob, the piece of hair tucked behind her ears, the brown S&S apron complementing the red Christmas sweater she wears underneath.
“What can I get you?” she asks, an edge in her voice, unmistakable irritation flickering across her features. Wally finds her beautiful anyway.
“Um, just a white mocha, thanks,” he says, flinching as she vigorously types the order into the tablet cash register.
“Hey, sorry for interrupting your call just now,” he starts, hesitantly.
She frowns.”That’ll be $4.75” – holding her hand out expectantly.
Wally takes the hint, forking over the cash and walking to the far window to set himself up at a table. Each table has a little ship figurine; the silver plaque at the bottom of his reads “Queen Anne’s Revenge.” Pretty cool . He pulls his composition book out, mentally preparing to get started on his AP Lit essay – just one of many assignments on his never-ending to-do list.
“One white mocha,” she calls from the counter, and Wally goes up to get his drink.
“Thanks, Maddie,” he says, eyes darting down to read her name tag. He smiles at her, hoping to dispel her obvious dislike of him. She doesn’t respond.
Okay, then , he thinks to himself, going back to sit down at his table.
Wally manages to get the essay done, but his attention isn’t fully on his work. He can’t keep himself from glancing over at Maddie every so often, who is now sitting on the counter, texting furiously. Strangely enough, he finds himself caring about the rude barista – she’s clearly having a rough day thanks to whoever’s on the other side of that phone, a boyfriend, maybe? (He hopes it’s not a boyfriend.)
Before heading out, Wally tears a piece of paper from his notebook and scrawls a short note – thanks a latte! hope you have a gran-de – folds it, and places it under the tip he’s leaving for her.
• ~ •
The second time Wally Clark lays eyes on Maddie Nears, he’s with the rest of the Split River High football team. Perhaps Sips & Ships isn’t a typical hangout spot for a high school football team, but Andrew Cooper had been raving about the chocolate muffins there for weeks, and everyone decided to tag along with him, if not for any other reason than to shut him up.
He can feel her eyes on his letterman jacket as he steps up to the counter, his turn to order. A slight frown creases her brow, but all she says is, “And what can I get for you?”
He grins, determined to get on her good side this time. “A white mocha.” A short pause before he decides to add, “I like your outfit.” She’s wearing a red flannel this time, and he wonders if red is her favorite color. It definitely suits her. She really is gorgeous.
The corner of Maddie’s mouth rises slightly, like she might, perhaps, be biting back a smile. (Wally feels his heart rate increase by just the tiniest amount.) But then she catches herself, rearranging her face into its usual scowl. “I’ll get that mocha for you,” she says and turns away from the counter.
Wally nods. He almost wishes she had mentioned the note, but at least she doesn’t really seem to despise him anymore. Progress .
It turns out that Andrew is right, the muffins are incredible, and Wally suspects that Maddie may have added extra whipped cream to his mocha – a success all around. This time, the note he leaves her reads I’m starting to think the scowl is a part of your uniform ;) .
• ~ •
The third time Wally Clark lays eyes on Maddie Nears, he’s back by himself in Sips & Ships, this time to study for finals.
“You again,” she says, frowning, but she doesn’t look genuinely irritated this time. “A white mocha, right?”
“Right,” he grins. “Good memory.”
He sits down at the Queen Anne’s Revenge table again, spreading his notebook ecosystem across it. She brings the cup to him this time, along with a receipt.
He doesn’t notice until he’s already left, stuffing the receipt into his wallet: A little ッ on the back, next to a phone number. He smiles. Mission successful.