Latte Love

You know those days? The ones that suck out your soul and then kick your hollowed out husk of a body while it lays on the floor? Yeah, today was one of those days.

I couldn’t even enjoy wearing a plain white t-shirt since it clung to my frame, emphasising the slight curves and dips and resulting in the cashier from Coles constantly referring to me as ’miss’ over and over again without fail despite my multiple corrections because apparently miss was the only word she knew.

So, I now had to wear an oversized navy hoodie and even though it was already June it was still decently hot. It didn’t help that I had to babysit my nephew and get all sweaty and gross because he wanted to dance to the theme song for my little pony — Which was now stuck in my head, so thanks Damian.

The day might have been salvageable if my dog hadn’t ripped up my new boots, the faux leather apparently a gourmet snack. I couldn’t even get mad at her— believe me, I tried but Sadie had mastered puppy dog eyes and I was a weak man.

Now all I wanted was some caffeine in iced form and maybe a break from existence for five minutes.

The streets are lined with people and I can feel my cheeks flush slightly as I try to hide inside my hoodie to no avail. I need to dodge as a group of teenagers run past, pushing their mate in a trolley like idiots and barely missing the little girl who’s run off from her mum, making me tense slightly. (I don’t know why, it’s not like it was my kid or nothing)

My tension sadly doesn’t get to ease as a group of older ladies walk past me, talking amongst themselves. I pull my hood closer despite the fact it’s already practically wrapped around my face. I’m sure these ladies are nice, but I can never be too careful when it comes to the older generation.

I’m glad when I’m finally greeted with soft pink hues of a café nestled into the street, the large ornate hanging sign reads ’oui oui Croissant’ and I need to supress a snicker. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a dumber name, but it’s a café so it clearly has coffee and beggars can’t be choosers so I walk in.

The bell rings out, it’s soft and jingles, like something that would belong in a kid’s book about fairy’s and gnomes. The booths and tables are filled with smiling patrons who are chatting among themselves— It honestly feels like a kick in the gut after today’s events and I feel bad as I accidentally glare at people whose eyes just happen to wander to me, but I quickly get over it as I notice someone looking me up and down. Analysing, guessing…

They look away pretty quickly as my eyes stab into them, consuming and judgmental because screw them. Nosy bastards, what I’m doing isn’t any of their business.

I walk up to the counter, watching the barista as she tuts around her workstation, attempting to make some sugary monstrosity. My eyes are drawn to her skin—a dark chestnut shade that has splashes of milk white and cocoa brown— it’s like she’s a part of one of the drinks she makes. Sweet and sugary. Her hair doesn’t help with my assessment; the base vanilla blonde and the wispy ends are coloured like strawberry syrup.

“S-sorry” she squeaks slightly when I rap my knuckles against the counter, trying to gain her attention as she swirls whipped cream on top of the drink— I think it’s a milkshake, but there’s too much sugar for me to tell at this point — the cream going up so high it’ll probably stain the ceiling.

“I’ll be there in a minute-“ her voice is cut off as the strawberry she was trying to top the drink with falls into her blouse. She blushes, mumbling something about it being cold before she turns back to me as I clear my throat a little too loudly. “Whoops” I want to judge her— I really do, but she giggles slightly and smiles warmly while shrugging. Like dropping a strawberry in her shirt is a normal occurrence.

Honestly, this girl would be really cute if she wasn’t delaying my vital intake of caffeine.

“Sorry sir, I’ll be right there” She stutters awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck and I decide to just grunt in reply. I know if I talk aloud, I’ll be rude, and I want to be nice to this girl since she called me sir— I said I was a weak man, and it was true.

My cheeks flush as she puts her hand down her blouse to fish the strawberry out, and I have to bite back my comment. You’re in public, have shame please. I turn away and when I finally turn back, she’s succeeded at getting the strawberry, popping it in her mouth and walking to the register.

“I am so, so, so sorry for hold-up” Her voice is a bit too loud, and I want to cover my ears, but I just nod politely instead. She fumbles for a few minutes, attempting to log into the register awkwardly. Sweat beads down her face and her ears tinge red— I don’t think she knows how to work the register.

I swallow a groan— Fighting the urge the slap my face in annoyance. I’m losing my patience, I think bitterly. I don’t have it in me to care if she’s cute. I don’t care if the different patches of colour in her skin are pretty, or if her hair frames her round face and makes her features soft and subtle. It doesn’t matter that her eyes are deep blue with green wrapped around the irises— I won’t just stand and stare at her face all day.

Even if I probably could.

I hum loudly under my breath, causing her to jump and look up. Her eyes are wide like a deer in headlights— Or like Sadie when lightning strikes, and I immediately regret being rude when mind makes that comparison.

“So, so, so sorry sir” She apologises again, turning quickly on her heels and bellowing out towards the storeroom in the back “Rody? How do I work the register again!” A taller barista walks out. Their skin a dark caramel and their hair a bright lime green. “It doesn’t like me” she whines to them.

Rody has a long-suffering look plastered on their face as they take over the register. “Seriously Saph?” Rody asks, clearly trying to sound annoyed but their tone lacks any real bite.

“I’m so sorry” Her face is beet red in embarrassment, and I take note that she apologises a lot— Like a lot a lot

“It’s okay” Their tone has a soft edge to it, like an older sibling used to their younger siblings’ antics. They turn to me, smiling widely. “I apologise for the wait, what would you like to order?”

The sigh that escapes my lips is pure relief, my mind easing— Finally.

“One Iced coffee for Casey, please” My voice is a little colder than intended and the girl— Saph— flinches a little. If she hadn’t been so incompetent, I probably would have apologised but…

Yeah, she needed to learn her job.

I sit in a corner booth while I wait, fiddling with the napkins, before I eventually pull out my phone so I can look like a person with a life. After a few minutes of absently scrolling through photos of Sadie I almost jump out of my skin. A high pitched awwww causes me to snap my head around. My heart is pounding violently in my chest, fighting against my already sore and bruised ribs.

I hadn’t realised someone was behind me.

Saph is standing there, precariously holding a tray with various cakes and drinks, including my precious coffee. “Is that your dog, their sooo cute” she gushes, leaning over slightly, the tray tipping. “What breed are they?”

Now normally I would have taken my coffee and left before this clearly unbalanced girl tripped and destroyed my caffeinated saviour, but she was asking about Sadie, so I had to answer. I had my priorities straight.

“She’s a Golden Retriever” I reply, my voice and face as flat as I can make them when talking about my dog, holding up my phone to show her better pictures of Sadie. “Her name is Sadie, she’s three”

My voice comes out proud, my bad mood lifting slightly at Saph’s warm smile aimed at the photos. She leans in slightly to get a better look, opening her mouth to say something— Possibly about how gorgeous Sadie’s golden fur is, or how warm her chestnut eyes shine— when the tray that had been wobbling slips.

I should kick myself for being such an idiot.

I saw it coming and yet I had been so caught up in talking about my dog I’d let it happen. The trays fly’s upwards, Saph tripping on her own feet in surprise— Landing on top of me in the booth, her body pushing all of the valued oxygen out of my bruised lungs. My face feels warm as I look into her eyes, her hair ghosting my cheeks, but the moment doesn’t last long as the tray decides to join us.

She lets out a whine, rubbing soothing circles on top of her head. She’s still on me, so I push her off, letting out a small grunt of pain. I can see her pink skirt and white tights covered in black coffee stains and whipped cream. Her once white blouse stained a rainbow of cakes and tarts.

Her hair— once vanilla— now covered in chocolate and sprinkles. I rub my head; my hand coming back wet as cold ice sinks into my roots and makes me shiver. My navy jumper and jeans are better off than her blouse— they won’t stain as easily— but they have large patches of coffee and cream on them.

“Oh-my-god-I-am-so-so-sorry” Saph cries out, her words blurring together in a rushed flurry as she tries to clean me up with a napkin, but I just stand up, gritting my teeth. “Let me clean that up” she tries to help again, “oh god, I am so sorry” she repeats, grabbing my glasses from the floor and wiping the whipped cream up.

I grab her wrist firmly, taking my glasses back carefully as I mumble. “It’s fine”

She seems terrified, her face turning red and her eyes widening as she quickly snaps her hand away, clutching it to her chest. I need to hold in my annoyance— My anger— for probably the hundredth time today.

Let it go Case.

She’s still frantically apologising despite me saying it’s fine, her arms flailing so much I’m worried they’ll detach in some morbid show of remorse.

She abruptly stops, her eyes lighting up with an idea I’m sure I want no part in. “Wait here” I want to protest, but she’s already run off to the staff room. I just want to go home.

When she comes back, she’s holding an awfully bright purple sweater. It has a large picture of a cat in the middle. Her smile is terrifyingly warm as she hands it to me “Here, wear this” She can’t be serious— She is.

“It’s my backup for my backup” her voice comes off proud and I have no clue because no one should be so clumsy they require a backup for their backup. I grind my teeth down and shake my head in refusal since I currently don’t trust whatever words want to come out of my mouth.

Her lip trembles for a second and I think she’s about to cry. Shit don’t cry— She’s going to cry.

I grab the jumper from her. It’s not because I feel bad; I have no reason to feel bad, she fell on me, but I don’t want to deal with her crying. She looks like an ugly crier.

She lets me change in the employee bathroom. The fabric is soft, and not covered in cream, so it’s better than my hoodie currently is, but I have to try really hard not to scowl as I walk out.

Her beaming smile makes it more difficult not to show my utter disdain.

“It suits you” it really doesn’t, but I doubt saying that would help.

I settle on the more polite response of “Thanks” hoping that I can finally just leave. Please let me just leave. She gives me an oddly shy smile, holding her hand out. I stare at it for a few moments wondering what she wants.

I don’t realise until her face goes pink that she’s going for a handshake, my own face heating up as I quickly clasp her hand in an attempt to not look like an oblivious moron.

Her smile is beaming and warm; like she’s trying to melt my insides. “I’m Saphire Skipper, just ask Rody for me if I’m not here when you bring it back, alright?”

“O-okay” I don’t know how she can be so cheery while covered in coffee, cream and probably utter shame but her smile doesn’t falter. Her grip remains firm, her eyes quirking up slightly and I realise she’s waiting for my name; “I’m Casey— Casey Baltimore”

When she lets go her face is pink again, possibly from the extended contact of our hands. I want to laugh at how easily flustered she is, but my own face betrays me by dusting a rosy tint.

“I’ll return this tomorrow” I mumble, already rushing towards the door, “Thanks for the sweater”

I barely hear her yell out as I leave— a muffled bye and your welcome following me out of the café as I begin to walk back down the street towards the sanctuary of my apartment.

I attempt to pull my hood over my face as I pass people before I remember I’m wearing her sweater. He God awful, girly sweater. Great, more people are going to call me miss. I don’t think today can get worse.

Clearly, I’ve jinxed myself as an onslaught of rain begins to pour down and I have to cover my head as I run towards my apartments. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

Today has got to be the worst.