Chapter Text
Cafés are for writers and people who love to talk; people who have a way with words, and sometimes not.
"Breggfast" is a coffee shop located smack-dab in the middle of Crackle Hill. Among the small, quiet staff includes a 19 year old English major who attends the University of Crackle Hill. Sophomore Virgil Maulwood isn't too fond of his job, but no one’s going to argue with the 16.50 hourly wage; especially if the only bill you have to worry about is your phone.
About 3 or 4 times a week he has the same interaction with the same man. Something similar to:
"Welcome in, what can I get for you today?"
"May I just get a 16oz dirty chai, iced please?"
"Oh yeah? How dirty do you want it?"
"Disgustingly."
"So a quad then? Jesus, not my fault if your heart stops."
It's been 7 months of completely platonic, innocent conversation. Although they never exchanged names, or information other than a one sided coffee order.
Except for September 14th, today. Today was what you would call a breakthrough.
Mystery man makes his way to the register, hearing Virgil greet him; so clearly, Virgil must've been at the counter, awaiting their daily routine. One small thing, though, he'd been on his phone since the moment he'd walked through the front door. So, technically, he couldn't be 100% sure it actually was Virgil.
"What would you like today, sir?"
"16oz dirty chai, iced please."
"Great! How many shots of espresso do you prefer?"
He's still looking at his phone.
"I don't just want it dirty, I want it indescribably intimate and-", that's when he decides to look up, y'know, halfway to freakville. There stands an incredibly confused woman that's simply trying to do her job.
He freezes and quickly his head whips to the left, only to see Virgil in the middle of making a drink.
"Just a triple shot. That'll be all." he puts his silver AmEx in the card reader, quietly rushing the machine and walking to the end of the bar to put Virgil (who was nearly in tears from holding back laughter) in his place.
He squints his eyes angrily, "Why weren't you over there to take my order?! Do you know how humiliating that was?" Virgil scoffs and lids his chai, sliding it across the counter, "You had plenty of chances to turn your phone off. Drink." Virgil snaps his eyes down to his creation. They stare into each other's opposing colored eyes until he unfortunately couldn’t resist the craving anymore. He picks up his drink and takes a sip, "It’s perfect." Virgil knows, "I'm an astounding barista."
As this should’ve been the moment he walked away with his drink, he spoke up instead, with a dominating yet weary tone, “I’m Logan,” he forces out.
Virgil laughs, “Oh,” It was so unexpected, and out of routine. There was something so pressing and almost attractive about the demeanor he introduced himself in, “I’m Virgil.. was that really all it took for an introduction, by the way? Me not taking your order? If I’d known that I would’ve moved to this end of the counter months ago.” Virgil slips his apron off, and for once in his life, Logan can’t find a viable response. “Look, I’m about to clock out, are you just going to keep staring at me like you want to eat me alive, or are you going to sit down and have a real conversation with me?” Virgil motions towards a booth just behind Logan.
“I mean, I suppose I have time between classes.” He clicks his tongue and takes a seat at the booth. There was this energy about Virgil that Logan couldn’t quite shake, something he’d never felt around him before today. This energy, close to allurement? Tractability? For someone seeming so tractable, though, he was confident. A thought crosses his mind that he’s being too observant. That leads to false accusations, so he puts his brain at a halt and takes a seat, awaiting Virgil.
By the time their conversation had started wrapping up, Virgil was already 15 minutes late for his 2pm writing class. “Ok, I think I got it, so you’re a senior, you’re.. 21?” Logan nods for Virgil to continue, “You’re a neuroscience major with a minor in physics,” “That’s correct.” “You work as a tutor for course credit and you’re a UTA? Where does your income flow in from?” “I charge for my tutoring.” “You’re already getting course credit though, isn’t that illegal?” “Not technically, and I’d love to stay here and explain why not; but I’ve got to get going. I have a statistics lecture I need to get to.”
Logan exits the booth, and Virgil follows, “You signed up to take a 4pm? Man, that’s rough.”
“Not exactly. I’m teaching it.”
Virgil’s lightbulb shines, “Oh! Shit, you’re right, you’re a UTA.” He feels himself get slightly embarrassed.
“I’d offer for you to sit in, however I’d like to prevent my,” Logan scoffs, "professionalism from putting you off of doing this again.. with me.”
Virgil bites his tongue sarcastically, “What are you asking, chai guy?”
Logan thinks for a moment, he’s never really done this before, “Let’s assume I am asking you on a date, yes?”
Virgil suddenly turns sarcastically serious to mock Logan, “Ok, go on.”
“What’s the ideal location?”
Virgil thinks, he'd never been asked on a date before, “Y’know what? Friday night, I’m having a get together in my dorm with a few friends. Why don’t you join us?” He twirls a finger up at Logan, not much taller; but tall enough that Virgil has to tilt his head slightly to make eye contact.
Logan starts to agree, but stops himself, “You.. you just asked me on a date, Virgil.”
“Ha! Gotcha! Text me!” He exclaimed, exiting his workplace.
Left standing, speechless, Logan realizes he forgot to ask for Virgil's phone number. He guesses he’d have to return tomorrow.