Work Text:
Ding, ding!
A little bell chimed as the glass door opened. The room was alive with energy: sunlight beamed through windows, lively chatter and the sound of fingers tack tack tacking away at laptop keyboards, and most importantly, the whir of an espresso machine filled the space.
In walked one tall, lean, and very composed Ilya Rozanov. He was new to the city, had just landed a well-paying job at an architectural firm, and needed to find a cup of coffee to fall in love with.
He’d tried a handful of cafés over the last couple of weeks, but hadn’t gone back to one more than twice. He was on a mission to find coffee so good he wouldn’t be able to resist a day without it.
Ilya took a few gentle steps inside and inhaled deeply. Ah, the smell of freshly ground coffee.
“Olivia!” A barista called out, and a short, thin woman collected her drink.
As Ilya got in line to order, he started to scan the room as he did with all of the other coffee joints he’d been to, assessing if the establishment was worthy of his daily patronage. He noticed the soft, atmospheric music playing and gently tapped his foot to the beat in approval.
“Emilio!” Another name was called, and a stocky man approached the counter this time.
They work quickly, Ilya noted. Another plus in his book.
He admired the visual aesthetic: soft, yellow lighting made fresh by white marble countertops, live plants hanging from intricately woven macrame, and…
Woah. His eyes stopped wandering once they met those of the barista behind the cash register. They must have only held eye contact for a second or two before the barista looked down at the screen in front of him to type in a name.
To Ilya, it felt like time had stopped. The man behind the counter was so… cute. Short, jet-black hair framed a face that held a soft smile. His eyes held a captivating kindness, coloured as richly as the coffee Ilya was about to order. And just below, freckles elegantly adorned his skin like cinnamon powder decorates a chai latte.
Ilya’s ears turned a soft shade of pink and he felt himself start to heat up. He quickly composed himself and let out a short breath of relief that there were still others in line in front of him.
“Layla!” A server called out, pulling him out of his thoughts. He tried to go back to analyzing the furnishings of the café. He was here to find a regular coffee spot, not… anything else.
Once it came time to order, Ilya was ready to be his cool, calm, collected self again. Until he saw the smile that greeted him.
“What can I get for you?” The man behind the counter asked. Ilya had heard this question countless times, he could not let himself get distracted by the tenderness in this man’s voice. But it was undeniably lovely.
“12-ounce black cold brew… Please,” Ilya said flatly.
“Sure thing. Can I get a name for the order?”
“Ilya. I-L-Y-A.” He felt the need to spell it out, since he often got a second I in place of the Y.
The barista punched in each letter and showed Ilya his total. As the transaction was being processed, Ilya looked directly into his eyes.
“Thank you…” He glanced down at the silvery name tag that faced him, smiling and curling his tongue between his teeth slightly. “...Shane.” He wondered what his own name would sound like being called from Shane’s mouth.
Shane blushed at the eye contact, looking down and back up quickly before putting his customer service smile back on. “Your drink will be ready for you down by that counter.”
To Ilya’s slight disappointment, some other barista was the one to call his name. He hastily grabbed his coffee and started out the door, but not before taking one last glance at Shane. He was so curious about him.
–
The work day felt monotonous. Ilya spent most of it getting acquainted with his new co-workers and organizing meetings with clients. He wished he was meeting Shane.
While he’d dated in the past, there was always a frustrating obstacle in Ilya’s way. Some of his past partners only admired his money, or he had to move for work and long-distance was a dealbreaker. Sometimes incompatibility got in the way: either he’d find someone he really liked but they were incompatible sexually, or the sex was great but he couldn’t pretend to enjoy being around them enough. Other times, he would get so busy with work that he wasn’t able to tend to a relationship properly. His new schedule should be more flexible. He could make time to get to know Shane.
He didn’t know anything about the man, besides what he looked like and where he worked, but he was intrigued by the thought of discovering him. A romance with a barista could be cute. Maybe it would help him slow down the metropolitan lifestyle he was used to.
He couldn’t wait to go home so he could walk by the café again. Shane’s shift was probably over, but he couldn’t pass up the narrow chance of getting another glimpse of those freckles. If not this afternoon, then definitely tomorrow morning.
Oh yeah, the coffee was decent, too.
–
Rays of sunlight shone through the windows of Ilya’s apartment the next morning, waking him up at daybreak. He couldn’t complain, though. That just meant he’d be out the door earlier, hopefully arriving at the café before the morning rush.
He took brisk strides down the busy city sidewalk, making it to the café early enough to see it quiet. The absence of conversation made the music feel a little louder.
“Aiden!” A server called out to the five people present in the establishment. Ilya looked up, noticing only one employee behind the counter. Shane.
Ilya ordered a 12-ounce cold brew once again. He was so distracted yesterday he didn’t give it a proper assessment. That’s definitely why he was back.
“Ilya!”
Shane’s voice was warm and inviting. It complemented the atmosphere like cream and sugar complement hot coffee. Ilya preferred his drinks bitter, but he could allow some occasional space in his life for sweetness.
Ilya picked up his drink with a small smile, nodding and giving Shane a small “thank you,” before leaving.
As he walked and sipped, he thought that his search for a café to frequent had concluded.
–
Ilya’s work day was filled with passing curiosities of Shane again.
What is he like when he’s not working? What kinds of clothes does he wear? What are his hobbies? Is there some authenticity to his sweet customer service persona? How would those freckles look under his hand?
Is he as intrigued by Ilya in the same way Ilya is by him? Probably not. He sees hundreds of customers a day, Ilya hasn’t done anything to stand out yet.
–
The next day, Ilya ordered his cold brew as he usually did. Shane took his order with an adorable smile. Ilya was on his toes, anticipating hearing his name from Shane’s lips again.
He wondered if Shane was starting to recognize him by now, despite it only being the third day he’d visited. Maybe he was starting to remember his name independently of the many others he took each day. Would he ever drop protocol and stop asking for it? Probably not in the near future. It was too soon for Ilya to be asking himself such silly questions.
“Rose!” he heard Shane call out. A slender young woman approached the counter. “Good luck with your shoot today,” he said to her as he picked up her drink.
“Oh, this is so cute,” Rose beamed, reading a message that Shane had written on her cup. “Thank you.”
The energetic buzz of the café prevented Ilya from eavesdropping the rest of the conversation, but he couldn’t ignore Shane’s radiant smile.
Is that his friend, or did he get to know her as a customer? Maybe he’d be open to getting to know–
“Ilya!” Pulled out of his trance by Shane’s graceful voice once again, Ilya decided he’s not going to wait to test the waters. The café traffic was starting to pick up, so he’d keep it short.
It’s only been three days. If things go south, he could find some other place. The coffee was good, but that’s not what he was committed to.
“Great coffee, you make it well,” Ilya said as he picked up his drink, the corners of his lips turning up just slightly.
“Thanks,” Shane replied with a small grin. “You have an easy order.” This made Ilya chuckle. He’d never been described as easy.
“Life is complicated,” Ilya said. “Coffee is simple.”
–
On the fourth day, Ilya was prepared to repeat his order, repeat his name and its spelling, and repeat the way he coolly smiles and walks out the door with his morning caffeine.
The conversations in the café seemed louder that day, but Ilya tuned out all of the noise once he reached Shane at the cash register.
“What can I get for you?” Default question.
“12-ounce black cold brew, please.” Default answer.
“Okay,” Shane punched the order in on the screen beneath his hands. Ilya noted how soft they appeared to be. A little bashful, Shane added, “And it’s Ilya, right? I-L-Y-A?”
He remembered. It had only been four days and he remembered. Maybe he just had a great memory and recognized most of his customers. Ilya would have to pay more attention to how others order.
“Yeah,” Ilya responded. “And I wait by the counter over there?” Smiling, he gestured in the direction that Shane normally did.
“Yep.”
When he picked up his drink, Ilya decided to be slightly more forward.
“So you remember me?” He smirked.
“Well, like you said, coffee is simple. I wanted to uphold that for you.”
Okay, maybe it’s just really good customer service, or maybe he is actually this friendly.
“Thank you,” Ilya said kindly and reached for the drink. Shane’s hand was still unknowingly gripping the sleeve of the cup, so the two men’s fingers brushed slightly as he pulled it away. A subtle rosy tint coloured Shane’s cheeks as he made brief eye contact with Ilya.
He froze for half a second before composing himself. “Have a great day, Ilya,” he said with a smile, then returned to the cash register.
Shane wasn’t working the next morning.
–
The sixth, seventh, eighth visits and onward, Ilya had established himself as a regular. On days that Shane was working, he no longer asked for Ilya’s order or name. If he could, he prepared the drink ahead of time. They both lost track of how many times they’d seen each other. Well, Ilya was the only one counting.
Maybe Shane was just upholding his professionalism, making Ilya’s morning as seamless as possible. Maybe he’d been purposely trying to cut down on time processing Ilya’s order so that he could spend more time talking to him.
Ilya took advantage of the days that Shane was calling names at the counter, too. He took every opportunity he could to talk to his café crush, even if only a little bit. On days that Shane wasn’t customer-facing, Ilya still checked him out in his cute little apron, captivated by his expression of unwavering focus despite how busy the morning rush tended to be.
“Ilya!” Shane called, and Ilya’d be damned if he said he didn’t love the way his name sounded in Shane’s voice. He’d started to become a bit more direct with Shane, relishing in the way he’d been able to fluster the barista mid-shift. He admired the way that Shane never let himself slip up, though, still diligently taking orders and making drinks.
“I see the way you make latte art for other customers,” Ilya started as he approached the counter. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you,” Shane responded. “I’ve been practicing for a while now. I’d like to think I’ve perfected the classic designs, but I need more practice on the more unique ones.”
“Ah, so you can do hearts pretty well?” Ilya raised one eyebrow. Shane blushed a little, in the same cute way Ilya had expected him to.
“I guess you could say that,” he replied, then tried to change the subject. “So you have an eye for art, then?”
“I work in architectural design. I like things that are…” He made direct eye contact with Shane. “Aesthetically pleasing.”
Shane laughed softly and nodded towards Ilya’s clothes. “I can see that.”
Ilya was wearing well-fitted brown slacks with a beige collared button-down tucked into his pants, sleeves rolled up just below the elbow. Folded onto the uppermost button of his shirt was a pair of gold-rimmed Ray-Ban aviators, a Russian orthodox cross necklace hanging above it. A shiny black and bronze Tudor watch adorned his left wrist, and polished brown dress shoes covered his feet.
Shane didn’t have the strongest dress sense, but he knew a distinguished outfit when he saw one.
–
“Who’s the new man of the month?” Shane’s coworker teased.
“Don’t say it like that, Hayden,” Shane responded disapprovingly, brushing him off. He was stuck closing with Hayden alone tonight, and while he appreciated the extra hands, the nosiness got old really quickly.
“You seem to be into him more than the others.”
“Everyone flirts with their baristas, Hayd, I know you know this.”
“Just admit you love the attention.”
“I think you’re projecting.” Shane moved into the back-of-house to put some dishes away, and to escape his colleague, but Hayden followed a minute later with some dishes of his own.
“You’re telling me that accent doesn’t get to you?”
Shane looked down and tried to focus extra hard on the task at hand. Getting rid of this guy was like swatting a fly sometimes. “I-it’s a nice accent, yeah. But nothing more.”
“I dunno man, he’s hot as hell, and looks rich too.” Hayden raised a teasing eyebrow.
“You know I don’t care about that,” Shane turned to face Hayden, especially annoyed at the last comment. He headed back to the front-of-house to wipe counters.
“But you don’t blush when anyone else tries to pick you up,” Hayden followed him back, his smirk still conspicuous as ever.
“I don’t blush,” Shane hissed, blushing.
–
Over the next couple of weeks, Shane and Ilya exchanged bits and pieces of information about their own lives. Ilya dropped flirty compliments into conversation, and Shane tried to convince himself that this was the type of conversation he has with every customer.
Ilya had just moved to this city recently for work. Shane came for university some years ago and stayed. Ilya likes to draw. Shane likes to read. Ilya likes watching hockey. Shane played hockey as a kid. Ilya’s a dog person. Shane is a dog person, too.
Ilya thought the little bear pin on Shane’s nametag was cute. Shane wished his hair could curl like Ilya’s. Ilya wanted to try the cafe’s pastries. Shane threw in the occasional chocolate croissant for free. Ilya started to lean into the counter a bit when picking up his drinks. Shane started to let his hand linger on each cup. They both held eye contact for way too long.
Ilya thought his attempts were working. Shane thought he was delusional.
–
On one cool morning, Ilya was walking to the café as he always did, in higher spirits than usual. Maybe it was the fact that he heard birds chirping this morning, a rare occurrence for him in this city. Maybe it was the breeze that ruffled his hair the moment he stepped outside. Maybe it was the couple he saw walking hand in hand, making eyes at each other and giggling.
Ilya decided today would be the day to make an even bolder move.
He arrived about 15 minutes later than usual, and the café was fairly crowded. The atmosphere was a little less ambient at this time, the music seemingly louder, more sounds of conversation and espresso machines.
Shane was calling out orders, but not taking them.
Ilya approached the counter, reading the employee’s nametag: Hayden.
“Good morning,” Hayden chimed in a sing-songy voice. “What can I get for ya?”
“12-ounce black cold brew, please.”
“You got it. And can I get a name for the order?”
Ilya didn’t give Hayden his own name. A devious smile crept up on Hayden’s face as he typed on the tablet in front of him. He looked up at Ilya, unable to stop himself from giggling, then gestured towards the counter where Shane stood. He hastily scribbled on a 12-ounce cup and handed it to Shane.
“Ilya!” Shane called soon after, having made his drink immediately. There was a particular haste with which Shane prepared the drink today, like he was trying to get it over with. His jaw was tight.
He scanned the crowd of chatty patrons, looking for the familiar glint of the Russian’s necklace. Once his eyes met Ilya’s, he called again, thinking maybe Ilya hadn’t heard him over the noise.
“Ilya!”
Strangely, Ilya still didn’t move, just lifted an eyebrow. Just as Shane opened his mouth to call a third time, flushed with embarrassment, Ilya darted toward the counter.
Still holding eye contact, Ilya spoke with a low tone. “That’s not what it says. What, do you need glasses?”
Shane stammered, looking down at the cup in his hand, his ears heating up. As he lifted his hand, the black Sharpie he was intentionally covering had smudged. Russian Hunk, it read. He looked back up at Ilya, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
Ilya broke eye contact this time, looking at Shane’s Sharpie-smudged fingers.
“I was planning on tipping you for that.” He slid the blushing barista a folded 10-dollar bill. “But you’re pretty, so I’ll tip you anyway.”
With that, Ilya grabbed his drink, gripping the cup in the same spot Shane did, and made his way out. He swore his coffee smelled richer that day.
Shane was still frozen, bill in hand, mouth slightly ajar.
“Wow…” His coworker was now right behind him, a hand on his shoulder, breathlessly laughing. “What a show.”
“Fuck off,” Shane snapped out of it, glaring at Hayden. He swatted Hayden’s hand away, folded the bill into his back pocket, and patted down his apron. He felt a piece of paper tucked into the crease of the bill, but opted for promptly grabbing the next empty 12-ounce cup that was waiting to be filled.
–
The sun had set, but the living room in Ilya’s high-rise apartment was lit by his TV. He was lazily splayed out on his soft blue couch, alternating between fidgeting with the strings of his grey sweatpants and the ones on his black hoodie, unconsciously bouncing one of his legs.
He was watching a hockey game, as he often did. Tonight it was the Habs versus the Hurricanes. He’d normally be fixated on the game, analyzing plays with a friend or two he’d invite over to watch, but he couldn’t sit still this evening.
He was eagerly anticipating a text from Shane, really hoping he hadn’t scared him off that morning. Was he too forward with the nickname? Too subtle with the phone number? Surely Shane didn’t miss the piece of paper he’d slipped him.
Every time his phone lit up next to him, he’d quickly pick it up with anticipation, then sigh and let his arm go limp when he realized it wasn’t who he wanted it to be.
Hours passed by and the text never came. Ilya went to bed wondering what Shane was occupied with that evening, and dreamt of him.
–
“I’m off,” Hayden announced to the closing staff. He made sure to pat Shane on the shoulder again on his way out, Shane instantaneously flicking his hand off as a reflex.
“Don’t.” This word was spoken as a reflex as well.
Hayden put his hands up as if he’d been wrongly accused of something. “Hey man, easy. I just wanted to say good luck.”
“With what?”
“With the big, sexy Russian gu-”
“Fuck off, Hayd.” Shane was annoyed, but couldn’t shake his slight smile. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Ilya all day. The way that he so boldly teased Shane, how nonchalantly he’d called Shane pretty, the way the sun hit his eyes just right, making them glow.
Hayden took off, followed by a couple of their other coworkers soon after. As Shane hung up his apron with one hand, he reached into his back pocket with the other.
There were now two pieces of paper in his hand, and Shane stared wide-eyed.
Text me ;)
XXX-XXX-XXXX
Despite the daily conversations and flirting, Shane was still caught off guard. He just wasn’t expecting a customer to actually make a move. Well, he’d had experiences like this in the past, but he almost never reciprocated the attraction, even if Hayden insisted he did.
Part of him was bitter that Hayden was right this time around. He wanted to get back at his nuisance of a coworker, so he’d hold off on texting Ilya for now. He just didn’t want to have to lie when Hayden would inevitably ask him about it the next morning. It definitely wasn’t that the thought of having conversations with Ilya after-hours made him nervous. Definitely not.
He tucked the 10-dollar bill into his wallet, then saved Ilya’s number into his phone, just in case he lost the paper. His stomach was doing flips. He would have to distract himself tonight, so he dialed a number different than the one he’d just typed.
A few rings later and he was chatting with his best friend, locking up and leaving the café.
“Drinks?” Rose was on the other line. “But Shane, you never want to drink on a weekday.”
“I’m just changing things up, and I’m busy this weekend anyway.”
“Got something weighing heavy on your mind, huh?” She always read him so well.
About an hour later, Rose and Shane were on a softly-lit patio, enjoying a beer and a rum with ginger ale respectively. He filled her in on every event, every little action, every conversation with Ilya he’d had.
“You’re so analytical about this,” Rose laughed.
“I’m just telling you what happened,” Shane grinned back.
“Could you do the same about that other guy who was hitting on you like a month ago?”
“Well, sure,” Shane nodded. “He said I was cute, I said thank you, he started asking me to draw a star next to his name on his cups, so I did. That was it.”
“He definitely did more than just that. He was always giving you eyes, Shane. And he definitely called you more than just cute.”
“Oh, I don’t remember that.”
“Because you weren’t looking for it. You weren’t wanting it.”
“People flirt all the time. I was just focused on my job, I think.”
Rose raised her eyebrows. “And are you focused on your job when Ilya comes in?”
“Well, yeah,” Shane answered earnestly. “I try not to let myself get too distracted, though it was a bit hard today.”
“Mhm…” Rose smiled and took a sip of her drink.
The space was filled by the sound of the bar’s music, street gossip, and car engines as they revved past. Shane looked to the street as he sipped. He was deep in thought.
After a couple of minutes of comfortable quiet from the two friends, Rose spoke again.
“So you’re going to text him, right?”
Shane was pulled out of his trance. “I mean, yeah sure.”
Rose reached across the table to put a gentle hand on his arm. “Shane, just be honest with yourself. You like him, right? So what’s holding you back?”
“I guess I just don’t know what this will look like if it becomes… real.”
“What’s the harm in exploring that?” Rose asked with a sympathetic smile. “You can figure it out as you go. And if you turn out to be incompatible…” She shrugged.
Shane’s heart jumped at the thought. He got so used to the routine of making Ilya’s coffee every morning. He got used to the silly flirtatious comments. He was starting to associate the smells of the café with Ilya, more than anyone else. When he practiced complex latte art, he thought of Ilya. When he drizzled chocolate onto freshly baked croissants in the morning, he thought of Ilya. When he wiped the counters after a shift, he thought of Ilya. When the sun shone through the windows just right, he thought of Ilya.
I don’t want to risk losing what’s already nice enough, he almost said out loud. But that thought interrupted his reflection. Enough? Is this enough?
“How do you know if you actually want more with someone?”
“Shane…” Rose started. “I think you have to answer that for yourself.”
–
Morning came and Shane was feeling bold. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted from Ilya, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let the opportunity to get closer slip by. Still unbeknownst to Ilya, Shane had a competitive side to him, despite his shyness and attempts to uphold a friendly but professional demeanour while working. He wasn’t about to let Ilya have the last laugh after what he tried to pull the day before.
Besides, he didn’t want to lose Ilya as a customer. His order was so simple that it made his mornings at work smoother. It added some ease to his busy workday.
Meanwhile, Ilya was at home getting ready for work, slightly deflated. He buttoned his dress shirt slowly, brushed his teeth slowly, put a bit of mousse in his hair slowly. He looked at himself in the mirror as he ran his hands through his hair and tried to smile to himself.
There it is, he thought to himself. You haven’t lost it at all. He gave himself a smirk and a wink in the mirror, then laughed at himself lightly, feeling slightly silly for hyping himself up in this way, but it was what worked.
I’ll show Shane what he’s missing toda–
Bzz. Ilya rushed out of the bathroom to look at his phone on the nightstand.
I do wear glasses sometimes.
-S
Shane thought to sign off in case this came off as a weird first text. It definitely did, but it made Ilya smile. His heart raced, but he didn’t respond.
–
Shane was rinsing a milk pitcher in the sink at the back counter, busying himself with cleaning rather than the customer-facing duties he typically took on. His goal for the day was to get lost in his work, and not to think, or overthink, about anything else. His back was turned towards the world, he didn’t even notice that Ilya had walked in.
“12-ounce cold brew, please.”
Once Shane heard Ilya’s voice, his ears perked up. He quickly grabbed a co-worker to take his place, abandoning his goal almost immediately.
He couldn’t take his order that day, but he wanted to see his facial expressions, see if anything changed about Ilya since he’d texted him.
His heart sank as he saw Ilya’s cold, stone-faced expression once their eyes met. He didn’t look as bright as usual. Had he texted the wrong number?
“Ilya!” He called with a smile, sounding lovely as he usually did. He was hiding how nervous he really was, but he wanted to see Ilya’s face up close. He made sure to push the cup out, closer to the customer-end of the counter, and removed his hand from it deliberately.
Ilya’s voice was low as he approached the counter. “I want to see them tomorrow.”
“What?” Shane asked, caught off guard.
“The glasses,” Ilya asserted, then he picked up his drink and turned.
“I’m off tomorrow,” Shane called out as Ilya headed for the door.
–
Shane came to work with his glasses on two days later.
He prepared Ilya’s drink swiftly and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” Ilya said with a small smile, holding eye contact with Shane for a few seconds. Shane blushed deeply as Ilya left the establishment.
The truth Ilya was hiding was his total infatuation with Shane. The dark glasses that sat upon his freckles were almost too much for Ilya to handle. They highlighted his eyes in the same way that an oak frame highlights a work of fine art in a gallery.
His intrigue became overwhelming in a way that had caused him to put on a cool, unbothered front, as if nothing had changed. Although something had changed, because he found himself unable to make small talk that day.
He feared that if he had stayed to talk, he would have confessed that he couldn’t stop thinking about Shane’s honey-coloured eyes, or the way that the contrast of his hair on his skin reminds him of chocolate on an eclair, or the fact that Shane’s smile invigorates him more than the caffeine ever could.
He finally responded to Shane’s text when he got home that day.
Cute glasses. Did they help you see our future together?
–
“When’s your lunch break?” Shane asked as he handed Ilya his cold brew. He had a serious demeanour today.
“Uh, 12:00,” Ilya replied, hesitantly. “Why?”
“Okay. Come by then. Meet me out back.”
Ilya was taken aback by Shane’s sudden forwardness. Shane hadn’t seemed to be bothered by Ilya’s pursuit, but now he was worried he might have overstepped.
“Have a great day,” Shane chimed, restoring his customer service persona.
On his lunch break, Ilya made his way into the alley in the middle of the city block the café sat on. He felt himself heat up with nerves as he approached the gravelly area behind the building, where large garbage bins and an old car sat. An employee in a different uniform than the one Ilya was used to seeing was outside smoking a cigarette. He promptly took a final puff, put it out, and returned to his shift at the sandwich shop next door.
Not seeing Shane, Ilya apprehensively checked his watch. 12:06. He wasn’t too late, he had a meeting that ran until 12 and needed time to walk to the place.
The brown back door of the café creaked when it opened. Shane shuffled out, wiping his hands on his apron. He looked forward to the Russian man in front of him, expressionless.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” Ilya held a concerned expression.
“Your text yesterday,” Shane started. “You couldn’t be bothered so say that to my face this time?” His cheeks were pinker than he’d like to admit.
“I, um…” Ilya stuttered, not expecting Shane to be taking this so seriously.
“I like you, Ilya.” The sentence erupted out of him. Shane made a face like he wasn’t expecting himself to say that, wide-eyed. Accepting his fate, he kept talking. “I think.”
There was a pause. Ilya could hardly believe his ears. The words echoed in his head, and he was suddenly more aware of the warmth of the sun kissing his skin. A deep crimson spread on his face.
“I mean, I don’t know, but I think I do, because I’m starting to lose focus.”
This made Ilya grin, trying to maintain his composure. “You? Losing focus?” He looked down at the bear pin that sat on Shane’s nametag. Still cute.
“I mean…” Shane sighed, wanting to start the conversation over. “Ilya, do you like me too? Or is this just harmless flirting?”
“I showed up to your sketchy ‘break room’, didn’t I?” Ilya joked, making air quotes with his fingers.
Shane smiled earnestly.
“I do… like you.” Now it was Ilya’s turn to blush, though he’d never admit to it.
Without thinking, he took a step forward. Shane did, too. The confirmation had him fearless, so an invitation followed.
“Let’s go on a date, then. I don’t work tomorrow, let’s get to know each other properly.”
“Will you bring me a coffee?” Ilya asked playfully in response.
Shane was beaming with joy as he nodded.
–
A few weeks had passed and the two men considered themselves an item. Ilya had Shane over to watch hockey more than a few times, and Shane started using Ilya’s kitchen to make experimental caffeinated drinks for the two of them.
Shane was amazing in bed and a joy to be around, ticking both of Ilya’s boxes. His kindness extended beyond his working hours, he was always focused intently when Ilya spoke about his passions. He often offered to help Ilya out with housework, but Ilya made sure Shane never had to lift a finger. He pampered him, surprising him with flowers or chocolate after a busy shift. And Shane always reciprocated in hugs and kisses.
Ilya also learned just how fun-loving Shane was. He always planned their dates: arcades, escape rooms, karaoke, scavenger hunts around the city, and hockey games, of course.
He also knew when it was time to be laid back, giving Ilya back rubs when he came home from work stressed.
On one particular spring evening, Shane suggested they picnic under the cherry blossom trees at the park.
Shane found his hands in Ilya’s hair as the Russian lay on his lap on their blanket. They were sitting in silence, relaxing as Shane massaged his boyfriend’s scalp. The sun was setting, its rays announcing their presence to the sky. Ilya looked up at Shane, his bright eyes glimmering. Shane looked down at him, smiling bright.
“Like honey,” Ilya said softly.
“Yes dear?” Shane asked, mishearing Ilya at first. Ilya blushed deeply. They hadn’t yet used pet names on one another.
“Your eyes. They’re like honey.”
Shane giggled, realizing his misunderstanding, and he leaned down to kiss Ilya’s forehead. He only pulled back partially, their faces close. “Yours are like the ocean.”
“Yours are sweet, mine are salty.” Ilya closed his eyes and exhaled with content. Shane kissed his forehead again, and pulled back up to continue watching the sunset.
–
Word got around the café that Shane had started to date his favourite customer. Hayden would tease him relentlessly for it, but it didn’t bother Shane anymore. He would always smile and tease Hayden back, either about his jealousy showing, or about other customers who seemed to like him.
Rose would time her café visits to line up with Ilya’s, just because seeing her best friend so securely in love warmed her heart.
Ilya would stand very close to the drink counter after paying, just to hear Shane say his name a little softly before heading to work.
One morning, Hayden took Ilya’s order.
“12-ounce black cold brew for ya?”
“No. Caramel macchiato today.”
Hayden laughed and started to punch in Ilya’s usual order.
“I’m serious,” Ilya declared. “I want a caramel macchiato. For here, not to go.”
Shane stared across the coffee bar, eavesdropping with confusion. Regardless, he expertly made the drink, embellishing it with heart-shaped latte art.
“What made you switch up?” He asked as he passed his man the mug on a little dish.
“Life with you is sweet. Coffee should match.”