He was tired, there was no denying that. Working two jobs was hard for him, but he had to pay the bills somehow. He would spend the morning/day at the coffee shop – often on his own because it was a small business with few employees – and he would spend his night's bartending at a club downtown. Mitchell rubbed his eyes, yawning. But then he heard someone clear their throat.
His head shot up, and he muttered an apology.
"Can I have a small chai latte?" the girl asked.
She seemed to have stumped him. It was like he was in high school again. When he realized how stupid he must've looked, he shook his head and typed the order into the register. He moved to the cups and grabbed one. The sharpie was hovering over the cup as he asked for her name.
"Annie."
Annie, he thought as he scrawled her name onto the cup. That's a nice name.
It became a routine for her, it seemed. Every day, at exactly seven in the morning, she would walk through the door and order the same thing before moving over to a table – usually one near a window – and she would open up a magazine, or she would have her laptop with her. He would often glance at her when he made everyone else's coffee, and he would watch as her brown eyes scanned the pages of her magazine, or he would watch as she tried to stop herself from laughing which was usually her looking away, biting down hard on her lower lip. It was cute.
It was becoming ridiculous now. How he would wait for her to come through the shop. He would watch the clock, waiting for it to strike seven. He smiled at her whenever she came through, his stupid way of flirting with her. But then he would notice the ring on her finger, and it would fall back down. Not this time, Mitchell.
He soon realized that her relationship status wouldn't stop him from at least thinking about her, or smiling whenever he thought about her face, and her hair, her curly hair that bounced whenever she was reading something.
This girl, he realized, was giving him so much mental trouble. Just thinking about her coming back through helped him push through his long shifts. He didn't even know her; he only knew how she looked, and her name, and what her laugh sounded like, and how her eyes lit up when they crinkled at the sides. It seemed pathetic, really, a pathetic and juvenile waste of time.
Three weeks after she first came in, he decided it was time to talk to her for real. The door chimed when she walked in, and he stood up straighter, greeting her with a smile. Her mouth opened to speak, but he cut her off.
"Small chai latte for Annie?" he answered for her, his mouth scrunching up, waiting for her to say something back to him. He regretted ever saying it.
A chuckle left her lips. "You memorized my order?"
The heat rushed to his cheeks, and he laughed, his hand rubbing his scruff nervously. Oh God, I haven't shaved in ages. I must look horrible. "Don't flatter yourself." He meant to sound witty and funny, but to him it just sounded wank-y, so he stumbled to correct himself. "S'just you're always here and you order the same thing every time so…" Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"Damn," she muttered.
He raised his eyebrows in question.
"I guess I have to find a new coffee shop. It's not a good sign when the employee's learn your order off by heart."
"There's another coffee shop about three blocks away if you're so…embarrassed about it. I'm sure Starbucks would love to have you over there. Forget about us lesser folk." That was another pathetic attempt from him to make her laugh. He needed to make her laugh. He loved her laugh.
"I like the family owned shops," she said, laughing. Gotcha. But then her voice went a little serious. "I like how you make my coffee, anyway."
He felt like a teenage girl. He was taken aback. "I…uh, ha. Thanks, Annie."
"No worries…uh," she looked at his shirt, reading his name tag. "Mitchell."
Heat rushed to his cheeks again, and he was quick to hide it. He grabbed a cup and made her coffee. She smiled when he gave it to her. Annie turned around, but she didn't sit down by the table. She didn't bring out her magazine or her laptop. She just went through the front door and left.
Mitchell slumped his shoulders, making a blubbering sound with his mouth. Did he do something wrong? He was thinking too much about it.
Annie didn't come through for another week. Mitchell was like a puppy waiting for his owner to return, sitting by the door, waiting for it to open, but she didn't come back.
He went out back for his break, deciding not to take his usual nap in the back room. There was an alley beside the shop, and it was empty. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. Taking one deep breath in, he pushed his body up against the wall, looking up and sighing the smoke out. Man, was he tired.
"Mitchell?" he heard a voice and he looked down, seeing it was Annie.
He smiled, breathing out. "Hey, you."
They talked and laughed together. He asked her for the time. He had to go back to work now, but he didn't want to leave her. Fuck it. He decided to go back into the shop, asking the other barista to cover him. Thankfully, he said yes.
They spent the rest of the day together.