Those Eyes Of His.

The light shines in through the window, lighting up my blue curtains and giving the room a different hue. I’m not much of a morning person, but waking up to a blue tint coloring my room seems to always put me in a better mood. It’s not too bright, so I don’t have to squint too much as I throw my black covers aside and throw my legs to hang off the bed. I rub my eyes before sighing out loud.

A quick glance at the clock and my body is set in full panic mode, realizing that I forgot to set my alarm. I’m twenty minutes late for work. Ignoring common decency, I rip off my sweatpants and shirt and wiggle into my black jeans, then tug on my long sleeve black shirt. I’ve been working at a Cafe for over three months now, ever since I moved to Alaska to escape my past life. The town I live in is called Homer, and it’s quite beautiful, if I do say so myself. The Cafe I work at is called “Sweet Like Sugar”, and it’s owned by this amazing old lady named Garcia. The kind of old lady with white curly hair and the grandmother smile that lights up the room.

I slip on my non-slip shoes, no irony intended, and snatch my keys off of the hook before running out to my car. I jump in and in seconds, I’m tearing down the street at the highest speed legally allowed. As I drive, I snake my arms through my black jacket, not bothering to zip it up. I may not technically have my uniform on, but wearing just black should be enough to satisfy her. I’ll just pin on my name and go about my day. Unless she fires me for being late.

I chew my lip as I pull into the back parking lot, parking my car quickly before flying out and jogging in through the back door. I huff out a breath as my coworkers turn to look at me, and I plaster a nervous smile on my face. Angela, a twenty year old journalist, as she calls herself, smirks and holds back a laugh before turning back to her customer. I drop my head in shame as I go to the office, preparing to make an excuse for Garcia. I creak the door open and I hear Garcia sigh.

“Luca,” She looks up at me from above her silver, round glasses. “What is your excuse this time?”

“I’m so, so sorry!” I mutter, sheepishly making my way into her office. “I forgot to set my alarm and I-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” She leans back in her chair. “Just get on your apron and name tag, and get behind the counter. Let Angela know she can go home now. And just so you know, you’re taking the trash out tonight, as punishment. If you’re late one more time, I have to fire you. Understood?”

“Yes, I am so sorry,” I whisper, still looking down while leaving the room, snatching my apron from the wall and tying it around my waist. I snap my name tag to my apron pocket, letting everyone see who I am.

I run behind the counter and shine my best goodmorning smile as a new customer approaches the counter. Angel gets the hint and goes back to the office to take off her things, ready to go home. I shoot her an apologetic look and she smiles, letting me know everything is okay. I’m glad she can forgive my bullshit.

I turn back to the customer and talk with kindness in my voice. “Thank you for coming. Is there anything you have in mind?”

The guy bites down on his lower lip, studying the menu with his brows slightly furrowed. “I’m not sure. I’m from out of town.”

“Oh!” I laugh. “Well, that’s okay. I can give you a few pointers. Do you like sweet coffee, or do you prefer something more robust?”

He looks at me, his hazel eyes studying my face. “I have no preferences. What do you usually get?”

“Well,” I turn to the menu, pointing at my favorite frappe. “I like the caramel frappe, it’s sweet but robust at the same time. Has a very cozy flavour.”

“I’d like to try that then,” He smiles, flashing pearly white teeth.

I smile back and type in his order, then shout it out to my coworker so he can begin making it. “Will that be all for you today?”

He looks down at his wallet as he searches for cash. “I think that’ll be all.”

“That’s five dollars please.”

He pulls out a ten and hands it to me. “Keep the change and consider it a tip.”

My mouth falls open. “A five dollar tip? Sir, all I did was help you find a drink. This really isn’t necessary.”

“Your kindness is very much appreciated. I haven’t exactly felt welcome in this town. It’s nice to have someone smile back at me,” He laughs, pulling his hand back, but not before I spot the letters tattooed on his knuckles. It looked like they said “Free”. I wonder what that means.

My coworker, Josiah, passes the frappe onto the counter and says with a monotone voice, “Here is your caramel frappe, sir.”

The customer grimaces a little, but shows a tight smile as he takes the frappe, “Thanks, kid. You should cheer up a little. Your coworker does his job well, and so should you.”

My mouth falls open and Josiah’s does too, but the customer just tells us to have a nice day before shooting me a glance, then leaving the Cafe. The door chimes as it shuts behind him.

“That mouthy fuck really just told me how to do my job?” Josiah growls.

“Hey, the guy has a name you know.”

“What was his name?” He asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. He paid with cash.”

“Smart ass,” Josiah huffs as he swipes a wet washcloth over the counter to clean up anything sticky. “He better not come back in here with that attitude.”

“He said he just moved here or something,” I say, checking the windows for any more approaching customers. When I see none, I lean against the wall and fondle the clipboard chain.

“Great. We totally need a newbie in this town,” He rolls his eyes, then tugs on a strand of his curly hair.

“What is your problem?” I ask, putting my hands in my apron pocket.

“I’m just not a fan of new people.”

“New people pass through here all the time. I don’t know exactly if he’s moving here. Just relax.”

Josiah shrugs, then turns to check out his reflection in the window. He has beautiful dark skin, and pretty brown eyes. I catch him looking at himself all the time. It’s kind of funny.

“I need to get myself on a dating app or something,” He sighs. “I am way too hot to be single.”