A Latte Like Love

Audrey took her break. When she came back, he was still sitting there, his mask still concealing his mouth, writing diligently in a little black leather notebook and not making eye contact with anyone.

He left at exactly 9:00 a.m.

He never took a single sip of coffee.

*  *  * 

The new guy didn't come back until the following Tuesday.

Audrey didn't know why, but for the rest of that week, every time someone walked in wearing a black hoodie, she searched their face to see if it was him. But she was disappointed every time—not a mask in sight. Perhaps he hadn't liked their cafe or their coffee after all. Perhaps he was just visiting.

Was it because of how nervous he'd seemed? He'd barely been able to order from her. And then he'd left such a large tip.

Why?

Well, she supposed it didn't matter in the end. So many people came through their doors.

Easy come, easy go.

But on Tuesday at 8:17 a.m. on the dot, the door opened and he lumbered inside, his right leg hitching slightly as he squeezed his large frame through the gathered crowd lined up in front of the register, clearly trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible while he waited his turn.

"I just don't understand why it's so hard to make me a mocha Frappuccino with extra caramel drizzle." Angry fingers tipped in long, fire-engine-red acrylics snapped in Audrey's face. "Hey, are you listening to me?"

She hid a scowl behind an expertly crafted customer service mask. "Patricia, I'm really sorry, but like I tell you every week, we're not a Starbucks. We don't have Frappuccinos."

"You could. I know you have blenders, I can see them in the back."

"Those are for our smoothie selection. I can make you a smoothie, or if you still want coffee, I can get you an iced mocha with some cold foam and a caramel drizzle. Does that work?"

Patricia rolled her eyes and tossed her frizzy bleach-blond hair over her shoulder. Her brow would have been furrowed if she were capable of it, but it looked like she'd just gotten a fresh round of Botox injections. "Fine. I'll take a grande iced mocha. Extra caramel. And I want that on the house."

Audrey's eye twitched, but she rang her up for a large, just like she did every time. She did not put the drink or the caramel on the house, and she ignored Patricia's irritated huff when she handed her the receipt.

A few more customers, and then it was the new guy's turn to step up to the register.

"Hey, Large Extra-Hot Americano! Welcome back." Audrey gave him another brilliant smile, this time every bit as genuine as the first one she'd given him was not. He was dressed more or less the same as he had been the week before—black hoodie, black KN95, dark jeans, Air Jordans, well-worn black leather satchel slung over his shoulder—and still only one eye peeked out from beneath the pulled-low brim of his cap. But Audrey liked the way it crinkled around the edge when he looked at her, if only the slightest bit. "I was wondering if I'd see you again."

His gaze rested on her slightly longer than it did last week, and she could have sworn she heard a soft, bemused snort from beneath the mask.

"You remembered me?"

"'Course. I never forget a face. Especially not one like yours." The crinkles faded.

Audrey's stomach dipped. There was something about him that made her want to make him smile, but now she had the sense she'd done something terribly wrong. He shifted awkwardly on his feet and glanced up at their menu without responding.

"Did you like the coffee you got last time, or would you like to try something new?" she prompted. Dèja Brew prided themselves on their small-batch craft coffee roasting and careful brewing, and it bothered her that he didn't drink what Josh made him last week, even if he had taken it with him to go. It had to have been ice-cold by the time he'd left. She'd already resolved to step away from the register and do it herself this time, even though Josh was a fabulous barista and he knew his way around the Marzocco almost as well as she did. "I could make you a latte if you'd like." She leaned forward and cupped her hand over her mouth. "I'll even draw you something nice in the foam," she whispered conspiratorially.