Work Text:
"Anne, what kind of drink did that man order?" you asked.
Your employee, a young girl from college was working as a cashier today. She took the order from the mentioned man in an expensive suit when he entered about half an hour ago. He paid for the order and went to take a seat. She delivered him his order in mere minutes after.
At present he was sitting on the narrow upholstered sofa in the cozy corner by the large window. Droplets of rain were tapping softly on the glass. It was rather cloudy today. Nostalgic soft tune played in the background of the cafe, but not too loud to not disturb customers. An atmosphere and spot for a real introvert. He emptied his cup some time ago, but he stuck around a little longer. Maybe it was the weather that made him reluctant to depart just yet. His gaze obscured by dark glasses was focused on the screen of the tablet in his hands. Only from time to time, as the subtle movement of his head indicated, his gaze was jumping either to look through the window or at the door, whenever it opened, as if he monitored every individual in and out. Was he waiting for someone? For the past few weeks, when he came by every few days, he was always coming and leaving alone.
"Oh, I think it was a plain strong black coffee," she tried to recall, fingers fumbling through recent receipts. She found the copy of the receipt of his order and read it to confirm. "Sweetened with two spoons."
"Okay," you responded, deep in your own thoughts.
From behind the tall glass display cases presenting rich offer of deserts on the counter, your eyes were glued to the said man, allowing you to observe while remaining somewhat hidden. Anne observed you curiously from her spot behind the cash register.
"What about him, boss?"
You let yourself remain silent. You turned to the coffee machine in the back and grabbed the biggest paper cup you had in offer.
These days you rarely ever prepared beverages yourself, but back in the days when you only opened this place, you had only your own self to manage all the responsibilities. With passing time your barista skills grew and meticulously designed recipes gained your cafe some renown. Today you had employees under yourself. Still, your small but very successful business remained your passion, therefore you could be found at your cafe everyday.
You started to prepare a drink, a strong yet sweet mix you didn't have in your usual offer, but you figured it might suit the man's taste. You were coming up with the exact mix in the process of creation, in order to prepare something original yet safe. You didn't spare nor your best brew nor best quality syrups to create an exclusive drink. You finished it off by adding only a subtle dose of plant milk, solely for the purpose of making a bright, complicated, floristic pattern on the surface, as you didn't know whether the man liked milk or had any allergies. You secured the big hot paper cup with a transparent cover, both for safety and to allow your client to enjoy the artistry. You decided to make it a take-out, considering he already finished his ordered cup and you noticed earlier that usually he never remained in the cafe for much longer after that. Just in case he wished to leave soon.
You placed the cup on the counter in front of Anne.
"Wow! Boss, you really are talented!" she exclaimed, a look of honest awe on her face in face of a cup of pure art.
She was an aspiring barista herself, so she always looked forward to learning about the proficiency of coffee making from you.
"Bring it to that man over there. Please, mention it's from the owner and on the house."
Anne turned to you instantly, her mouth fell agape, but no sound escaped her. Her eyes twinkled, like when one just witnessed the most cheesy, yet undeniably romantic scene in a drama. Then she regained her composure, straightened her apron and gave you a motivated nod. She grabbed a cup and left from behind the counter, making her way towards the man sitting in the corner. You leaned over the cash register to see the interaction clearly.
She stopped by the table he was sitting at, gaining his attention. He acknowledged her by raising his head from above his tablet. His pale face was relaxed and thin lips parted softly, as he listened. She gave a small bow and placed the cup on the table in front of him. Then she talked to him for a moment, but the exact words didn't reach your ears. She must have passed on the message, because the man leaned to the side to look behind Anne's form in the direction of the counter, apparently searching for the mysterious person who decided to gift him. He spotted you leaning over the counter. The corner of his mouth lifted in a barely visible manner, which maybe could be called a modest smile. You couldn't see his eyes because of his dark glasses, so you couldn't determine whether it was courtesy or true appreciation. You gave a short nod and pushed yourself away from the counter, cutting short the brief eye to glasses contact and disappearing behind the tall displays.
Anne returned behind the counter, her fingers fidgeting. She stopped in her tracks. Then she quickly approached you and squeezed your wrist softly. Her cheeks burned up slightly.
"He's a gentleman," she whispered, giving you a reassuring smile. Then she turned back to the register to give you some space and to continue minding her own duties.
You huffed in amusement and rested your lower back on the counter where the coffee machine along with other equipment was, your presence hidden away from clients' eyes. A deep exhale left your lungs. You were far beyond the age when you were openly making moves on people, so you forgot what a thrill it was. You planted your seed. Whatever happens to it now is beyond your control.
To get yourself busy, you decided to do a brief check up on the coffee machine. A proper conservation of the cafe equipment was a key to achieving the richest taste of brew.
At some point the bells hanging on the door chimed softly. A finger tapped your shoulder shyly. You turned to see Anne's perplexed expression.
"He left," she told you, her voice full of clear disappointment and tinted with something that was likely compassion.
You gave her a small slightly bitter smile of yourself.
"It happens," you tried to reassure her and waved it off.
She nodded and turned her back to you once more. You tried to ignore the sudden weight in your stomach. Anne's sympathy was appreciated, but you were a girl big enough to know how to accept rejection. No matter the age, it always hurt a little, but there was no point in suffering and pondering over it either. So you decided to brush it off and reminded Anne to walk through the local and clean up the dirty tables for next potential customers. Your comforting solitude behind the counter didn't last too long.
You finished locking in freshly cleaned portafilter, when a rushed steps approached you from behind and someone gasped loudly.
"Boss!" you turned to see Anne, clearly agitated by something.
She lifted the big empty cup and nearly pushed it into your face.
By instinct you grabbed the item in your own hands. It was the emptied cup you ordered to deliver the man earlier.
"Look at it!" Anne rushed you.
You raised a brow in confusion and looked at the paper cup. What about it?
You turned it in your hand not quite understanding the commotion. That was until you removed your palm, which happened to cover the elegant, tight writing on the cup's side.
Digits. A phone number.
Call me. Z.
A broad smile grew on your face involuntarily and your whole aura lightened up.
Anne gave a small squeak of excitement and jumped in place.
You laughed out loud.
"Alright, alright, back to business."
You tried to bring her back to order without conviction, more in an attempt to hide your own excitement and abashment.
"Yes, boss!" She paced back to the counter just in time to serve some customers who just entered the cafe.
You looked out the window over the displays. The rain stopped and the sun rays pierced the clouds and now illuminated brightly the shining damp streets.
Warmth spilled in your chest, empty cup resting tightly in your grasp.