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The first time he came in was short but memorable.
He drifted in on cigarette smoke with a black leather jacket and choker that caught your eye right away.
“I like your style,” you said without thinking.
He looked down when he smiled, his hair coming between you like a black curtain. “Thanks.”
Your coworkers teased you about the crush you swore wasn’t a crush, yet he somehow became ‘your’ customer that the others would step aside to let you serve.
He had a quiet, rasping voice that had you watching his pierced lips. He had all your attention and yet sometimes his words failed to make sense in your fuzzy brain.
“Sorry?” you asked as you entered his usual black coffee order.
A little nervous laugh left his lips and gripped your heart.
“A cookie. One of those iced ones,” he said and pointed with a black-tipped fingernail to the display.
“Of course! Anything else?” You tried to fall back into your usual customer service routine despite the blunder.
He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes again with the motion but he swiped it back.
Handing him the pastry bag was a nerve-wracking affair. Normally when he got his coffee it was already on the counter. And your card machine being on the back of the register meant you never had to hand him anything before.
You prayed that you wouldn’t drop it or otherwise make a fool of yourself as you handed it to him, but you didn’t. He took it from you and your fingers brushed, electricity sparking up your arm and warming your cheeks.
You both looked away quickly. Instead of leaving though, he sat in the cafe that day.
And every subsequent visit.
He’d settle at a table with his laptop and nurse his coffee as you stole glances. Unfortunately, he always seemed to pick a chair facing the counter, so it wasn’t so easy to get away with.
You’d linger in the cafe sweeping up nothing and cataloguing everything you could about this interesting stranger. His knee bounced when he wasn’t typing. And when he did, his hands flew over his keyboard in bursts. He was a really fast typer.
“I like your stickers,” you said without thinking, eyeing the video game references and cute frog stuck to his laptop.
He took out an earbud you hadn’t noticed and you flushed with embarrassment.
“What?”
“Oh, um, your stickers. I like your stickers, sorry. I didn’t see the—” you pointed to your ears and trailed off. “Sorry to bother you.”
He smiled wider than he ever had before and yep, you were doomed. That smile was moonlight to a moth.
“No, that's okay you aren’t bothering me. Thank you.”
You smiled tightly and nodded, trying to make a swift escape, but he spoke again before you could, pulling you back to him.
“Do you— do you game?”
You stalled with a lame grin stuck to your face until your brain could get past the excitement. “Yeah, a bit.”
He took out his other earbud and leaned his elbow on the table. “What do you play?”
Another customer chose the worst possible time to enter. The bell grated its chime as you screamed internally.
“I’m so sorry, I have to get back to work but…” you looked at the counter and back to him with your heart racing… and decided to take a chance. “I’m going on break soon, actually, I wouldn’t mind talking then?”
Far from repulsed at your unprofessionalism, he actually seemed excited. “Yeah! I mean,” he cleared his throat, “Sure. Sure, yeah, I’ll be here.”
“Okay,” you practically whispered with your breath gone and raced back to the counter.
You glanced at him again as you checked out the next customer. Your customer was sitting with an excited and blushy little smile that made your heart soar.
Your break could not come fast enough.