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It started when Mira noticed that her best friend's coffee order changed.
Zoey had two modes when it came to her caffeine intake: black with a scoop of sugar for the dismal mornings, and mid-afternoon treats where it was more like she took coffee with her chocolate syrups and whipped cream.
And so when Zoey come up to their usual outdoor table on university campus and what Mira smelled was distinctly not boiled dirt water, her suspicions were immediately raised.
"Who are you and what have you done with Zoey?" she asked, readjusting her glasses with one hand and snapping her book shut with the other.
Zoey blinked, her backpack half way off her shoulder and her books set on the table with bewildered slowness. "Huh?"
But Mira only had to flick her eyes at the to-go cup and she snickered, "Ohhhh, okay so yeah story time, Meerkat, buckle up." She sat and began to pull out her notebooks. "There's this coffee shop that opened up down the street from here. I thought I'd check it out. You know, scope out the vibes."
"And how were they."
"Immaculate. 10/10 decor and 100/10 music."
"And the coffee?" She gestured again at the cup with a raised brow. "They don't brew regular or something?"
"See, that's the thing." Zoey stuck a pencil behind her ear and stacked the notebooks by subject, every movement pure muscle memory. "I went in there ready to order my usual, but then there's this sign at the front counter. 'Let me guess your coffee order. Half price if I get it wrong.'"
"Okay, so its some kind of grand opening gimmick?"
Zoey shrugged. "Must be. Anyway, the barista comes up—super cute, by the way, you'll like her—"
"Wait, what?"
"And she comes up and asks me, 'What'll it be?' And she's obviously saw me checking out the sign so she's got that look in her eye, like she wants the challenge, right? So obviously I'm gonna see what she'd make for me."
"Obviously," Mira agreed. "So what was that about her being cute?"
"She's cute, what more do you want? Anyway, it's half-off coffee, I'm not gonna say no to that either."
"Already so confident that she'd get it wrong?"
"Well, yeah. Is this the face of someone who drinks black coffee?" Zoey scoffed then framed her face in her hands, showcasing a cute and dazzling smile.
Mira reached over and pinched her cheek until she dropped the expression with a indignant pout. "So you got half-priced coffee today, good for you," she congratulated.
"Sure, but like, here's the thing. Yeah she got it wrong, but it's delicious?! I didn't know coffee could even taste like this. Seriously gourmet levels of insanity I feel like I should go to jail for only paying half for this."
Mira looked at her, a mixture of amusement and incredulousness. "Are you sure it's not just because you've shot your tastebuds to hell?"
Zoey considered it, raising a slow finger then pointing at Mira. "Maybe. Anyway you should try it."
"I'm perfectly capable of making coffee at home, I don't need to go to a shop."
"Aw come on, just treat yourself," Zoey begged. "Do it for the pretty barista and her magic coffee."
Mira sputtered out a laugh, her curiosity winning out without much fanfare, as was many a case when it comes to Zoey. "Fine, fine whatever. But if she types me with anything that has more than two shots of espresso, I'm making it your problem. Now are we gonna study or what?"
Later that afternoon, following the map on her phone, Mira found Zoey's new hyped up coffee place. The shop itself didn't look like anything remarkable on the outside. Just another brick-faced building with large windows, a coffee related pun in its name, and a sandwich board propped outside advertising its grand opening in cursive chalk.
Walking inside, the sound of a plucked guitar strings washed over her. She recognized the notes from a pop song that came on the radio the other day. It was nice. Easy to listen to.
And Mira had to agree with Zoey that the decor was nice—cozy, in the way that didn't feel forced or trendy. It was like someone converted their own kitchen and living room into a communal space. Hardwood flooring crackled underfoot, the sound muffled with woven rugs. There were a few solo round tables in the middle of the area—all of it cherry wood; some plush booths lined the far side that resembled sofas than proper booths, and a small library on the other with a humble collection and invitation for trades. Combined with the warm light emitting from various floor lamps and cream colored shades, it nearly made Mira yawn at the softness of it all, though her eyelids did noticeably grow heavier with every step. It didn't help either that she was presently the only patron at the moment with only the sound of the steam machine for company.
She walked up to the front counter, currently unattended. Just as Zoey described, the sign bearing the barista's challenge awaited her there. Handwritten, and in the same looping script as the sandwich board outside: Let me guess your order. Half price if I'm wrong.
Beside it was a desk bell and she rang it with the tip of her finger. Its melodic chime rang through the shop, followed by a "Just a minute!" that came from the backroom. Mira perused the menu that hung over the counter while she waited, finding the usual suspects listed there: mochas, espresso, lattes, cappuccino, and various teas blends along with options for hot or iced. So far, so normal, though it occurred to her then that she hadn't asked Zoey what it was that she was drinking this morning.
What exactly was she getting herself into?
Soon the barista emerged wearing a bright yellow apron and her purple hair twisted up into a bun. "Welcome in," she greeted as she carried a crate of freshly washed mugs over to the counter. As she began to stack them onto their appropriate shelves she half called over her shoulder. "What can I get for you?"
Damn. She is cute, Mira thought immediately and resolved not to tell Zoey. The levels of vindication to come from such a confession would be astronomical.
She pushed her glasses further up her nose. "So this thing you do," she said, and pointed to the sign.
"Oh that." Mira caught a trace of the barista's smile before she looked away again. "My boss didn't think it would get any attention, but people seem to like it."
"Yeah my friend came by this morning." Mira shoved her hands in her pockets. "Called your coffee magical."
"Did they? That's a new one," she chuckled and placed down the last of the mugs. She dusted off her hands and turned. Her name tag read 'Rumi' and she sauntered up to the register. She stood maybe half a head shorter than Mira, but she smiled and suddenly Mira felt completely out of her depths, like the center of gravity shifted from a mindless trail across the sky tripping into an easy orbit. "Did you want to try?"
"How's it work?"
"It's exactly what it sounds like," the barista, Rumi, said with a shrug. "I just try and guess what I think you'd like to order. If I get it wrong then, congrats, you get a discounted drink."
"But anyone could just say that you got it wrong, can't they?" Mira challenged. "It's not good for business if you sell coffee like this."
Another shrug, this time with a smirk. "I know. But I think it's fun. And it won't be forever, so better get it while you can."
Mira crossed her arms over her chest, fighting with every ounce of will to keep her composure. The challenge in the woman's eye. It was a good look on her and definitely not good for Mira's sanity. "Sure. Give it your best shot."
Rumi's smile grew wider, and she leaned back with a hand on her hip, studying Mira up and down with keen interest. "Any dietary restrictions? Allergies?" she asked, eyes still roaming as she drank in every detail of her.
Her palms suddenly clammy and her throat dry, Mira wordlessly shook her head.
Then, when it seemed like Rumi'd seen what she needed to see and swiftly got to work on the drink, Mira found herself in the bewildering state of missing the woman's eyes on her, that undivided attention and desire to know and distill her. The only other one to do so—and successfully at that—was Zoey.
"So!" Rumi spoke over the hiss of steam and the grind of coffee beans. "I take it you're a student?"
Mira cleared her throat, the grinder thankfully masking the sound, "What gave it away?"
"Educated guess. Drawing in the college crowd is why my boss picked this location in the first place.
"Location, location, location," Mira recited sagely.
"Business major?" Rumi assumed from that incantation.
"Close. Microbiology."
Rumi snorted, looking over at her. "How was I close?"
"Just trying to keep your confidence up," she teased, but saw as Rumi stared intently at the partly made concoction. "Need to start over?"
"No I can still save it. I think I've got some spare amoebas in the back."
Mira scrunched her nose. "Yeah? What kind?"
"Can't say. It'll ruin the surprise," Rumi fired back while experimenting with ratios on smaller disposable cups. She sipped from one of them, taking a moment to let it sit in her mouth for a bit before swallowing. Her lips smacked and her tongue rolled along the inside of her cheek—thinking. She looked at Mira again, penetrating straight through to the marrow and like she were trying to fit her into some complex equation.
Mira froze in place, hoping that she wasn't utterly blushing to her ears, but already knew it to be the case if her accelerating heart rate was anything to go by. What is it? she wanted so badly to ask, What do you see?
The look couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds but in that breathless moment Mira wished that it would last forever. She blinked at herself, breaking out of the reverie with incredulous ferocity. Where the hell did that come from? She just met this woman and already she's acting like some lovesick teen.
"What about you?" Mira asked by way of distraction. "I don't think I've seen you around campus."
"I start next year, actually. Kind of a late start but my moms finally came around to the idea."
"Moms?"
"Yeah." Then she waved a hand, gesturing to the whole shop. "They own this place. Said they needed a side project. But honestly I think it's because they wanted to stay close by to me."
Owning a coffee shop is a 'side project'? Mira thought incredulously. What could possibly be their main project then? "So… the 'boss' you mentioned earlier are your moms?"
"For better or worse," Rumi laughed. "Honestly, I wasn't going to spill any details, but you're really easy to talk to."
"Really?" Mira murmured, almost afraid to believe in the utter simplicity of it all.
"Yeah." She stole another glance at her before returning to her task with great attention. "If I don't mess this up too badly, I'd love to see you come around more often."
And with that, she finished whatever remaining touches the brew needed, and she's back in front of Mira, presenting the cup like a grand offering.
Perhaps it should've frightened her that a stranger should have this capability, this confident volition to distill her very essence into something as trifling as a coffee order. The poetry of her in a cup. It was somehow the most intimate thing Mira could ever think of. Was that sad? She could scarcely tell in that moment as she took the cup peered down at the drink, free of its lid as to showcase the heart made into the foam.
How could she possibly drink it?
But Rumi was looking at her expectantly, an eager glint in her eye that softened the edges of her drive for challenge. Whether she knew it or not, her gaze kept flickering back and forth between Mira's face and the fresh brew in her hand with the ardent need to know if she succeeded.
With fortifying inhale, Mira ventured for the first sip. The light and aromatic brown liquid peeked out from beneath the layer of foam, then boldness blossomed on her tongue. A second, more animated sip rewarded her with renewed flavor, rich and nutty. The sweetness of the foam coated her tongue and allowed the taste of espresso to roll so achingly smooth down her throat that she damn near choked at its decadence.
She swallowed, lowering the cup, and brought a hand up to her mouth. She stared at nothing in particular, though her eyes were wide in disbelief all the same, as though all her sense and faculties had been rewired and soldered to just taste alone. It was delicious. But she desperately needed a stronger word because it was truly a crime to label it so simply.
"Did I get it right?" she heard Rumi ask through the fog of her heavenly reverie.
And to be perfectly honest, there was no real way for her to win, not really. All along Mira never cared much for coffee. The cups she made in the morning solitudes of her apartment were born more from ritual than any genuine need for caffeine. She liked starting the day with something warm, and the smell of dark roast reminded her of simpler times—of her brother back when they spent early mornings together before their parents shipped him off to private school, readying him to one day take over their father's company. They weren't close—not anymore. But his coffee habit had followed after her. And that was just it, it was his.
Rumi could've presented her the same boiled dirt that Zoey called a decent morning brew and still be right but, again, that was Zoey's, not hers, so now? Now…
Mira's fingers curled tighter around the cup, almost possessively as she took in every bit of its heat and the resolution that, yes, she has to come back for the pretty barista and magic coffee made so special for her. "It's spot on," she said.
Rumi pumped her fist in victory, practically crowing in delight as she quickly scribbled the recipe down on the nearest piece of paper lying about—the recipe for a drink named after its muse.