Chapter Text
Noelle Swanski was not special. This was a fact she was assured of from a young age, by a stern father who held little fondness for her. She did not have any reason to think otherwise, as her mother left Noelle to the mercy of her father when she was 5, and she did not return. In fact, her mother’s flight gave her much reason to believe that she was broken or dirty, lacking in some way, if her very own mother decided she was not worth staying for. After her mother left, her father did not take kindly to little Noelle asking after his estranged wife, often leaving her with bruises she could not have deserved if she tried. So no, Noelle did not think she was special.
She jolted, huffing a sigh and pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, her lovely train of thought broken as the bus groaned to a stop. After pulling her coat more tightly around her, Noelle stepped out into the cold morning air of her small town. Around her, a few early morning commuters hustled out of the bus and down the small sidewalk, a few ducking into the small shops and cafes that lined it. The street was not busy, it was six in the morning. Her bag slung over one shoulder, the small woman looked around thoughtfully as soft music played through the headphones cupped over her ears. She often wore headphones on the way to work, it made the bus a bit more bearable. Typically packed with people, the single bus in town was not a quiet place, nor was it a peaceful one. Someone's kid was always screaming, people were talking on the phone, or to each other, and there was always someone sneezing. Don’t know what that last one was about, perhaps that person should see a doctor. Either way, it was just easier, and quieter, to wear headphones. Besides, then she got to listen to her favorite Backseat Lovers song on the bus.
A bell tinkled above her as Noelle unlocked the door and stepped inside the coffee shop where she worked. It was small, but in a cozy sort of way, decorated with blue accents, plants, and candles. The left wall was taken up by a row of booths, lit with small lamps, prints of renaissance paintings hanging above them. On the far wall, the counter took up most of the space, housing a case for baked goods, an espresso machine, and other such necessities for a coffee shop to run smoothly. A chalkboard menu hung on the tile wall behind the counter. To the right, a few circular tables and chairs stood, plants and candles in the center of each. Next to the door, under the large arched windows, a self-serve coffee fixings bar sat, filled with creamers, sugars, and stir sticks. Noelle breathed in the warm, coffee perfumed air. A smile tugged at her mouth, and she slid off her coat. She was the opener today, and she had about an hour before the first customers would arrive, so she needed to get to work.
Some time later, the shop is bustling with the first few commuters of the morning. Around four people are in line, and the first, Mr. Haney, one of her regulars, smiles as she appears from the back, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Good morning, Mr. Haney! You’re here a bit earlier than usual!” Noelle chirps, glancing at the clock on the wall to confirm. “What’s the occasion?"
“Good morning Noelle,” He mumbled, clearly wishing he was still in bed. “Yep, our coffee machine broke, and the missus wanted coffee before work, so, here I am.”
“Well that's very kind of you, to get her coffee. What can I get for you?”
She fell into a rhythm, taking orders, making drinks, and attempting small talk with bleary-eyed patrons. No one in this town was a morning person, but everyone had a job to do. Eventually, the morning rush slowed, and she got to take a minute. The few people still in the shop were scattered among the sparse seating; a few teenage girls giggling at something on their phones, a smart looking business man on a laptop in the corner, and an elderly woman with a cane, seated at the table by a window up front. Since she had a moment to herself, she thought it would be a good time to replace the now empty coffee she’d made earlier this morning. Noelle turned and began grinding up the beans she would need for her latte, when the bell chimed behind her, signaling a customer.
“Be right with you!” She called over her shoulder, hearing heavy footsteps approach the counter behind her. She quickly finished pouring the foamy milk into her cup, and turned around to greet the new patron.
“Good morning, what can I get-” she halted, almost tripping over her feet as she laid eyes on the most attractive man she had ever seen. Okay so he wasn’t the most attractive guy she had ever seen, that honor likely would go to an actor she saw in a recent film about space and making friends with a rock alien, but still. The man before her was very good looking. The first thing she had noticed were his eyes, the strange shade of gun-metal blue they were, and how they seemed to dart around in the warm lighting of the coffee shop. How they seemed to want something. How they almost seemed… lonely. The second thing she noticed, though, were his arms. The man was built like a tank. Good gracious. Noelle was sure her face was red, she hoped he couldn’t tell. She cleared her throat and started over.
“Sorry, good morning! What can I get for you?” Smooth, very nice save. The stranger did not smile, but his eyes crinkled a bit at the edges. The small change in his face made her stomach flutter a bit, and her eyes cast down at the register.
“Hi. Can I just get a black coffee and a latte? And could you use oat milk for the latte? Thanks.” His voice was rough as he stated his order. He sounded a bit like he hadn’t spoken in a while, as if he had just woken up. Noelle nodded and rang him up, glancing up at him a few times. He had short, dirty blonde hair that looked as though he had tried to comb it back, but had drug a hand through it a few too many times. His strong jaw was tense as he looked around the small shop, and a thick goatee and mustache grew around his mouth. Her gaze trailed a bit down to his body. His clothing was casual, a black t-shirt and tactical looking cargo pants, the bottoms of which were tucked into army boots.
“Name?” She asked, a pen in one hand and a cup in the other, turning her attention back to work. His eyes darted to hers briefly, hesitating before he responded.
“Jim.”
Well that was BS.
Her brows furrowed a bit. Something in Noelle’s gut told her that this man was lying to her. If the slight hesitation and the surprise behind his eyes when she asked were enough to go on, it was clear his name was not Jim. Why would this man lie to her about his name? Was he someone special? Did he keep his real name secret because he would be in danger if he didn’t? She shook her head slightly and smiled up at him. It didn’t matter, did it?
She read “Jim” the total, and he pulled out a twenty from his wallet and handed it over. She took it, and their fingers brushed for a moment. Her eyes widened and she quickly opened the register and counted out his change.
“I’ll have those out shortly!” She squeaked, handing him the bills and coins she owed him before turning around to make his drinks. As she fumbled with the cups, she heard the distinctive crinkling of bills being pushed into her tip jar. She smiled softly.
When she finished the drinks, turning around to hand them over, she made eye contact with him and, on instinct, lowered her gaze to the ground.
“Whats your name?” Her head snapped up as he took the drinks from her hands. Green met gun metal blue. He wanted to know her name. He wanted to know her name. Why did he want to know her name? She was just a barista, she was nobody. Why did he want to know her name?
“Uh- Noelle! My names Noelle.” He hummed in acknowledgement. She thought she was going to explode.
“Thank you, Noelle.” He replied, sounding for all the world like she just solved world hunger. She nodded, a bit shell-shocked, and he walked out of the cafe, the bell chiming above him.