Chapter Text
I. Waverly
Barely two minutes into the call, Champ starts complaining in her ear. Waverly resists the urge to roll her eyes as she fishes for her keys. She tunes out Champ’s whining to unlock the front door of the coffee shop and pauses for a moment to wave to the manager, Tim, before heading to the back room to put her bag down.
“- Haven’t seen you in weeks,” Champ is saying, which Waverly translates as haven’t gotten any in weeks - “I mean, who needs this college thing anyway, you’re already so smart for a girl and - “
“Champ,” she interrupts, clenching her jaw and trying to keep her voice level, “I’m at work now and I am not talking about this again. I’m here because I want to be and it makes me happy and that’s that. I’ll call you later, okay?”
She throws her phone into her bag without waiting for an answer and tugs on her blue work apron, smoothing it out and adjusting her blue cap in the mirror. The apron has the words InSAMniac Coffee emblazoned on the front, hovering over a caricature of Sam, the owner, bug-eyed and holding a giant cup of coffee. It’s tacky and Waverly loves it. She smiles at herself in the mirror, determined not to start off the morning on the wrong foot. She feels bad about hanging up on Champ and shoots him a text - love you, babe - before heading out.
“Hey, Waverly,” Tim says, poking his head out from the kitchen next to the front counter.
“Good morning, Tim,” she says brightly, looking around. It’s her first day on the opening shift and she’s not quite sure what to do.
“Coffee’s all set to go,” Tim says as he drags out several trash bags from the kitchen toward the back door. “I’m gonna take out the trash, you mind just switching the panels? Got a new menu for the winter season.”
“Sure thing,” Waverly calls as she hears the back door slam; everyone knows “take out the trash” is Tim’s code for “ten minute smoke break”. She looks up at the panels featuring the current fall flavors hanging from the ceiling above the coffee pots - at least five or six feet above her head - and lets out a sigh. Sure, save this job for the short one.
She drags out the tallest step-stool she can find, but it still leaves her barely able to reach the hooks dangling from the ceiling. She takes down the old panels with minimal effort, but getting the new ones on proves to be much more difficult. She’s just moved on to struggling with the second panel when the bell on the front door rings. She curses inwardly, a mild flutter of panic rising in her stomach.
“Sorry, I’ll be right with you!” she calls over her shoulder.
“No problem, take your time,” she hears a girl’s cheerful voice reply.
Waverly curses under her breath some more, still fumbling with the second hook. She goes up on her tiptoes, trying to maneuver the edge of the panel, when suddenly her foot slips a little off the stool and she inadvertently lets out a small squeal, hands flailing for balance.
“Whoa, you want help with that?”
The gate creaks, and suddenly a pair of hands relieves her of the panel and easily hooks it into place. Waverly regains her balance with one hand braced on a cabinet and finds herself face-to-face with a very tall, redheaded girl wearing a blue Eagles baseball cap, grinning at her with the biggest dimples Waverly’s ever seen.
“Thanks,” Waverly says, laughing embarrassedly. They’re nearly eye level. “I-I owe you one. Um - coffee on the house?”
The girl raises an eyebrow at her, still grinning. “You allowed to offer that - Waverly?” She squints a little as she reads off Waverly’s name tag.
Waverly laughs again, fidgeting with her fingers. “Well, no, I guess not. Coffee on me, then, I guess?”
The girl’s grin gets a little wider, crinkling the edges of her eyes. “Coffee on you? Like, you’re offering to take me on a coffee date?”
“I - what?” Waverly nearly loses her balance on the stool again, and the girl quickly reaches out to steady her, laughing. “No, I - I just meant - “
The girl waves a dismissive hand, shaking her head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Helping beautiful baristas free of charge is all part of the morning routine.”
Waverly knows its a joke, but there’s something so sincere and open about the way the girl is looking at her, head slightly tilted, that Waverly is momentarily lost for words. They both simultaneously seem to remember that the girl’s hand is still on Waverly’s arm; Waverly quickly steps down from the stool, another nervous laugh escaping her.
“Um,” she says, floundering, feeling the flush creep up into her cheeks, “you should, um, go back around, my manager will kill me if he sees you back here.”
“Who, Tim?” the girl laughs, but she obliges, making her way back around to the front of the counter. Waverly quickly nudges the stool out of sight and swallows hard against her fluttering heart, which seems to have jumped into her throat.
“Tim’s a big softie,” the girl continues as she picks up her bag and steps up to the register, “although he might want to consider making someone a little less vertically challenged switch out those panels.”
Before Waverly can make a retort about short jokes (nothing new, of course, but it always makes her indignant), Tim returns with a slam of the back door.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Haughtshot!” he booms as he joins them at the counter and high fives the girl. “What’re you doing out so early?”
“Got a morning run in,” the girl replies, shrugging her bag a little higher on her shoulder. “Getting ready for the season opener next week, you know. Thought I’d stop by for some of this irresistible coffee before class.” She winks at Waverly. Waverly’s heart flutters again.
“Good, good,” Tim says, oblivious to the mild cardiac crisis his employee is having next to him. “We finally gonna beat those Raptors this year?”
“You can count on it. I’m not graduating with the shame of defeat four years in a row.”
“That’s the spirit,” Tim says, then startles Waverly as he claps her on the shoulder. “Earp, you take good care of Nicole here, she’s gonna win us a championship. You have a good one, now!”
“Thanks, Tim, you too!” Nicole calls as Tim disappears into the kitchen.
Waverly clears her throat as Nicole looks at her again. Get yourself together, Waverly. “So, you’re kind of a big deal, huh, Hotshot?” she says, hoping her nonchalance - she is nonchalant - is evident in her voice.
Nicole leans forward a little with her elbow resting on the pastry display. She shrugs, flashing her dimples. “Kind of. Basketball.” She points to the embroidered basketball on the left side of her sweatshirt, under the number 11.
“I figured,” Waverly says with a smile. She gestures with a hand at the difference in height between them, easily half a foot.
Nicole just nods, still looking at her with a faint, faraway grin on her face.
Waverly feels her palms getting sweaty. “So…um, coffee?”
Nicole starts a little, standing up straight again. “Oh, um, yeah. Medium, house blend, one sugar. Please.”
Waverly turns around to fill the order, thankful for a chance to gather her composure. She takes a deep breath before facing Nicole again.
“So I haven’t seen you around before, Waverly,” Nicole says as Waverly sets the cup down on the counter. “Earp, Tim said? New hire?”
“Waverly Earp, the one and only,” Waverly says, ringing up the coffee. “Literally,” she adds at the look on Nicole’s face. “I’m the only Waverly Earp in the country. I googled it. Once. A couple years ago, so maybe not anymore. And I’m not new, I used to work in the afternoon, I just picked up the morning shift. Because of classes. I always go to class.”
She knows she’s rambling but she can’t stop, because Nicole is grinning at her again and Waverly’s heart is fluttering. Maybe she is having a heart attack.
“Oh, I better make this a regular then,” Nicole says as she hands her a five, and Waverly is absurdly proud of herself for not letting her hand shake as she takes it.
“I’ll be here,” she says, probably a little too brightly, and hands Nicole her change. She silently thanks god as the bell on the door rings again and a group of students walks in, chattering loudly.
“Well, Waverly Earp,” Nicole says, pocketing the change, “if you’re into basketball at all, you should come to a game sometime.”
“Oh, I’m, uh, not really into sports,” Waverly says quickly, shaking her head.
Nicole shrugs, picking up her coffee and flashing another heart-fluttering grin. “Maybe I can convince you otherwise. And don’t forget, I’m taking a raincheck on that coffee date.”
Nicole excuses herself before Waverly can protest, leaving Waverly to stare after her. The fluttering in her heart seems to have spread to the rest of the organs in her body, and she vaguely wonders if that’s a bad thing. She decides she doesn’t really care.
“Hey,” a voice says impatiently, and Waverly jumps. There’s a boy waiting in line, waving his hand in her face. “You gonna take my order or what?”