Birth of Strawberry Girl
The first time Ford called her strawberry girl, Jem had been half awake and undercaffeinated.
She had not planned on becoming emotionally attached to a man in a corporate green apron, and yet it had already happened before she realized it.
It was a Thursday morning, the weather warm already despite the early morning hour, and her favorite café on the corner smelled like espresso, sugar, and toasted vanilla.
The place had hand-painted menu boards and leafy plants hanging in the windows. It also housed mismatched chairs that looked expensive, but somehow worked together anyway.
Jem had been coming there on and off for a few weeks after moving into the apartment complex nearby. It was close, the drinks were affordable, and the music was always low enough that she could hear herself think during her study sessions.
She adjusted the strap of her tote bag as she stepped up, brushing her brown hair back where it had slipped forward again, the movement automatic. The glass pastry case caught her reflection just long enough for her to notice a small nose she loved, and bright hazel eyes that looked almost translucent in the light, like clouded gems, before her attention moved on.
That morning, the usual barista looked up when she stepped up to the register.
He had dark hair gelled back at the nape of his neck in a loose, unimpressed attempt at neatness, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and the kind of loose smile that suggested trouble.
She had seen him before, but never noticed him fully until now. Especially up close. His angular features and toothy smile caught her interest quicker than she expected.
“What can I get started for you?” he asked, then squinted at her for half a second.
“Wait. You’ve been here before.”
Jem laughed softly. “A few times now.”
“A few times, huh?” he repeated, like he was deeply offended she had reduced it to that.
“I knew it. You’re becoming one of ours.”
“One of yours?”
He leaned one forearm on the counter. “Caffeine patrons of distinction.”
She should have rolled her eyes. Instead, she smiled. “That sounds like a big deal.”
“It is serious. We have high standards here.”
“Mm. Good to know.”
His name tag was pinned upside down on his apron, and a stubborn cowlick at the back of his head refused to stay in place no matter how much effort he had put into the rest of it.
She tilted her head, reading it anyway. “Ford.”
He glanced down at the tag and huffed a laugh. “Ah, dang.”
“Standards, huh?”
His grin widened, pleased. “So. What’re we getting today?”
She looked up at the menu board. “Today, I wanted to try something different.”
Ford tapped his fingers on the register. “So bold!”
“Oh, I know. I’m upgrading.”
“Any special preferences?”
Jem pretended to think. “I love strawberry everything. Can you work with that?”
That did something to his expression. Just a flicker of amusement, like he’d already found the best joke in the world and was deciding whether to say it out loud.
“Oh, that’s so adorable,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “Adorable?”
“Yeah. Committed to a theme. Hang on a sec.”
He glanced toward the menu board, then back at her. “We just added a strawberry cream iced coffee last week. It’s so good. Weird enough to feel interesting, but also safe enough to not ruin your morning.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Of course it does. I’m the one making it.” He tapped her cup on the counter and wrote something on it with a marker. “One strawberry cream iced coffee for…” He looked up expectantly.
“Jem.”
He repeated it once, quieter. “Jem.”
Then he smiled and wrote again. “Jem. Like a gemstone.”
Her stomach did a tiny, annoying thing. It wasn’t even a new line—she got that at least once a week—but she found, somewhat irritatingly, that she didn’t mind hearing it from him.
When he handed her the drink a few minutes later, there was a small strawberry doodle next to her name.
“There you go,” he said. “One strawberry cream iced coffee for strawberry girl.”
Jem looked up. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve decided that’s your nickname now.”
Jem rolled her eyes, but there was something warm curling low in her chest that hadn’t been there when she walked in. The gemstone line was one thing, but the nickname was another.
“You don’t know me well enough for that,” she said.
“You can opt out from my name blessing at any time. Just say the word.” He responded with a cheeky smile.
An older man behind her coughed as if signaling them to keep the line moving.
Jem became suddenly aware of the space she was taking up and that this absurdity was happening in front of other people who were definitely not invested in it.
“Whatever. Jem began to walk out of the café, with the smallest flutter in her stomach.
She should have objected harder than she did. Instead, she took the drink, warm from his hand where it brushed hers, and said,
“You're ridiculous.”
“Just drink the freakin’ coffee, strawberry girl.”
She did and it was incredible. The first sensation to hit her mouth was a splash of fresh strawberry, slightly tart, which mellowed with the cold cream that followed. It was smooth and almost velvety. Then the astringent coffee followed, full-bodied, which kept it from tipping too far into dessert territory.
“Oh my God.”
Ford’s mouth curved knowingly, like he’d been waiting for that reaction. “Yeah?”
“This is actually amazing.”
“Told you.” He pointed at himself with exaggerated smugness. “I’m very gifted when it comes to drink technology.”
Jem took another sip and tried not to look too pleased. “You’re unbearable.”
“And yet,” he said, leaning in slightly, “you’ll be back soon for another one.”
He was right. She exhaled and almost marched out of the shop in a combination of frustration and satisfaction.
“Enjoy your day,” he said with a wink.
