The first time Steve Rogers walked into the coffee shop, Melanie fought to keep her cool. She was working alone, like most days. The shop was small and out of the way, with a Starbucks just four blocks over. Not a lot of business came her way, so there was no missing Captain America walking through the door.
"Good morning. How can I help you?"
His baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, and he kept his head down a bit, but he smiled at her.
"Coffee, please. Two creams, two sugars."
"Coming right up."
She placed the cup on the counter and he slid over a bill.
"Keep the change."
"Thank you."
She was about to give her usual "come again" spiel, but instead of heading to the door he went to a small booth in the corner and pulled a notebook from his jacket.
An hour later, a few customers had come and gone, but he was still there. With no one else in the shop, Melanie had a moment, so she walked over to his table.
"Can I get you something else? Maybe a refill?"
"No, I'm fine — unless I'm holding up a table?"
Melanie chuckled and looked around. "I don't think that's a problem. Stay as long as you like. Let me know if I can get you anything."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She glanced at his notebook as she turned away. Not a notebook. A sketch book. Interesting. Captain America liked to draw.
Steve came in most mornings after that. Sometimes there were stretches of days when she didn't see him. She figured he was off doing something heroic. But on the days he was there he ordered his coffee, two creams, two sugars, and sat at the same corner booth.
One morning was a bit busier than usual. Steve sat in his usual corner, and had been there for about half an hour when a woman came in. She placed her order then turned to lean against the counter while she waited.
"Is that Captain America?"
She said it loud enough for the two other patrons to look up toward Steve in his usual ball cap.
"Of course that's not Captain America," Melanie said. "He's a regular. Do you think Captain America would come to this hole for coffee?"
The woman squinted at Steve, then laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
She paid for her coffee and left. The other two patrons never even glanced his way again.
After everyone else was gone, Steve strolled up to the counter.
"I want to thank you for what you did."
She shrugged. "Despite what some people think, everyone deserves their privacy and a chance to live a normal life. Even someone as famous as Captain America."
"I wasn't sure you recognized me until you did that. The way you watched the customers... you wanted to make sure they believed you."
She chuckled. "Was I that obvious?"
"Not quite spy material," he smiled, "but it worked." He stretched out his hand. "Steve."
"Melanie," she said as she shook his hand. "Melanie Caldwell."
"Thank you, again, Ms. Caldwell."
"It's Miss... and call me Melanie. Please."
He nodded, and left.
The next morning she saw him walking toward the shop and had his order ready when he walked in.
"Good morning, Melanie."
"Good morning, Steve."
He glanced around the room.
"Don't worry," she said. "No one is here."
She handed him the coffee and he grinned.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Two weeks later Steve was in the shop, but left in a hurry after getting a call. When Heather, the barista for the next shift, came in she offered to clean up the tables if Melanie took out the trash, and Melanie agreed.
Back inside Heather was flipping through a notebook at the counter
"Hey, Mel, someone left this in the corner booth. This is really good stuff."
Melanie glanced over her shoulder. It was Steve's sketch book.
"That belongs to a regular. I'll take it." Melanie tucked it under her arm. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Melanie made a few stops before going home, the sketch book forgotten until she unpacked her bag. She knew she shouldn't look at it, but what she'd seen of it as Heather flipped through it was very good. She sat down on her sofa and started on the first page.
There was a sketch of a woman with an old-fashioned hairstyle. Maybe someone Steve knew before he went into the ice all those years ago. She flipped the page, and found another of the same woman.
"There must be some history here."
She flipped again to the face on an older man in glasses. Again, to a younger man in a military uniform. She flipped through pages of face after face, and some random sketches of objects or animals, but she froze on a sketch of herself. She was smiling, hair tucked behind her ear.
Steve drew her.
She stared at the details for several minutes before flipping again, only to find another image of herself. She turned again to another image. It was half-finished, but it was clearly her.
She closed the sketch book. She shouldn't have looked. What would she tell him?
"The truth," she whispered.
He was Captain-Frickin-America. He'd want the truth.
She carried the sketch book back and forth to work with her for the next few days, but Steve didn't return. After two weeks she wondered if he would ever return.
One week more and he walked in.
"Hi, Melanie."
She looked up, startled. "Hi. It's been a while."
"Yeah. Can I get—"
"Two creams, two sugars."
Steve smiled. "Thanks."
"Hey... I think you left this behind last time you were here."
She pulled the sketch book from beneath the counter and handed it to him.
"Oh, thanks. I've been looking for this."
He glanced up at her, eyes locked to hers, and she looked away.
"You looked through it."
"I did. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have, but my coworker found it and was already looking through it. The couple I saw were so good that I got curious, and..."
"You saw the last ones."
She nodded. Steve put the sketch book on the counter.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"What? Why are you sorry?"
"For drawing you without you knowing. I guess it was creepy to see that."
She shrugged. "I think... maybe at first. But they're very good. Kind of flattering, actually. I was surprised to see my hair down in the first one. I always have it pulled back at work."
"Yeah, that was more my imagination."
Melanie smiled. "You're imagining me?"
Steve blushed and rocked back on his heels. "Well, not imagining like —"
"It's ok," she laughed. "I get it. Artistic license. Besides, I know enough about Captain America to believe that your intentions in drawing me weren't creepy."
Steve sat on one of the stools at the counter.
"You know I'm not Captain America, right? I mean- I am, but that's not who I am."
"Oh, I'm sure. Captain America is a public figure. A persona. But you wouldn't risk your life as Captain America if there weren't some of that persona in you. A good bit of it, I'd bet."
Steve smiled and stared at the counter.
"I can't say that my intentions were completely pure in drawing you."
He looked up at her through his long lashes.
"No?"
Steve smiled and shook his head, as if what he were about to say was ridiculous.
"I think you're pretty. Drawing you gave me an excuse to stare."
"Well, that's quite a confession."
"Yeah. So, now that it's out there, you wanna get coffee sometime?"
Melanie laughed and looked around.
"No," Steve said, "not here... not while you're working."
"Steve Rogers, are you asking me on a date?"
"Yes, Steve Rogers is asking you on a date."
She smiled. "Just say when."
"You free tonight?"
"Absolutely."
