Lizzie pulled down the thin metal lever and watched the creme spill into the dark, rich coffee. they swirled and danced and mixed together until the two became a beautiful caramel brown. She popped the lid on, and handed it to the customer, her mouth tilted upwards in a smile.
She took a low, deep breath, and tightened the apron's green straps around her waist, looking over the many little brown stains that peppered the surface of it, then she reached up to fix her tiny ponytail of slightly greasy light brown hair, and straigtened the headband that covered it. She could see her reflection in the window over the counter at the back, as the morning light began to turn to a noon glow that flooded the coffee shop.
The bell on the door jingled, and she whirled around, ready to serve the next customer. A man stepped through the door, the kind of man you could see as a history professor, but also secretly a graffitti artist or something like that. His skin reminded her of the colour of a cup of a cup filled with more creme than coffee. He was very tall, and wore a soft, light grey jacket with the collar flipped up, and a black scarf draped around his shoulders. He looked towards Lizzie and smiled.
She lifted her fingers in a little wave to him, and then almost smacked herself in the head. What are you doing?She asked herself, and then turned around to wipe a bit of whipped creme off of her cheek, that she hadn't minded being there just moments ago. As his footsteps came closer to the counter she could feel her cheeks flushing and she squeezed her eyes shut. Be cool, be calm.She told herself.
"Hello! What can I get for you today?" She said, staring anywhere but his face.
"Oh, just a lemon poppyseed muffin, to go, thank-you." His deep voice smiled when he spoke, and like sugar it spilled into Lizzie's ears, until she momentarily forgot what he had said. She stared down at his strong hands pressed against the wooden counter.
"Are you alright miss?" He asked, and she had to look up. His black eyes stared down in concern at her.
"I'm so sorry, of course I'm alright," She managed to get out, still flustered, "a muffin, was it?"
He smirked, and little dimples appeared on his white chocolate cheeks.
"A lemon poppyseed one, yes. Lizzie, was it?" He answered, still staring down at her.
"How did you-?" Lizzie began, about to ask how he could know her name, but she stopped herself, gripping the small metal name tag attached to the front of her green apron and blushed deeply. "Oh, haha, yes-of course. Coming right up."
As she turned around, she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration and walked towards the muffins in the glass container on the other counter.
"Thank-you," He said as she handed the muffin in a brown paper bag to him, his dark eyebrows raised in gratitude, and the richness of his voice seeping through his lips, "I'll see you later, Lizzie."
The bell above the door chimed as he left, and Jamie watched his every step, her elbows resting on the wooden counter, and her hands cupping her flushed cheeks.
"I really hope so." She whispered as the glass door shut behind him, and the bell slowly stopped ringing.
It was only then that she realised she hadn't charged him for the muffin, but before she could practically jump over the counter to catch him, her hand brushed against a twenty dollar bill resting on the counter. The muffin had only been two dollars.
"Does he think I'm poor?" She muttered to herself, but then uncovered a sticky note attached to the back of the bill. On it was written, "For the nicest barista."
Lizzie sighed deeply, a melancholic sigh. Too bad I'll never see him again.
The next morning Lizzie was late for work. She'd decided to get some excersise and walk, realising halfway there that she had forgotten the weather forecast. The 8 a.m. morning rain made the brown hair around her face cling to her cheeks and neck as she rushed towards the glass door of the coffee shop. She clutched her yellow jacket and swung the door open, praying that whoever was working this shift with her was on time.
"So, you decided to show up."
That voice. That sugar pouring into your ears voice. That rich dark-mocha swirl voice.
Lizzie looked up, rainwater dripping from her nose. There at the till, serving a line of customers, wearing the same green apron as she had been wearing yesterday, was him. He looked again at her after handing change to a customer, and raised one eyebrow.
"Well don't just stand there! I need a caramel frapuchinno with no whipped cream, and two dark roast coffees, one decaf, one regular."
Lizzie, still shocked, quickly smoothed the hair out of her face, removed her damp yellow jacket, and threw her apron on, glancing every few seconds at him to make sure he wasn't an apparition or something.
This was the same guy who she had given a muffin to, right? The same guy who tipped her like 17 dollars and called her 'the nicest barista'? Could he be anyone else? Did he apply for the job yesterday afternoon, and get it that quickly? They arent even hiring, are they? Is he stalking me?
Before she had even finished slipping her headband over her wet hair, the line of several customers had been taken care of. Lizzie stood behind him as he finished putting the extra change into the till and giving the customers the orders he told her to finish, trying to figure out what she would say. She was going back and forth between, "Who are you really, a serial killer?"and "Date me please I'm extremely single, and you're extremely cute."But before she could get one word out or even take a breath, he spun around, and extended his large, strong hand towards her.
"It was extremely rude of me not to introduce myself yesterday. My name is Darcy, Fitzwilliam Dary."
Darcy? Why do I recognise that name? Is he some famous actor or something? Or could he be—no. No way.She quickly glanced up at the certificate on the wall above the mug cupboard and read,
Fitzwilliam J. Darcy.
Owner.
Lizzie looked back at him and almost flinched from embarassement as she put her small hand into his. He shook it softly.
"You're the owner." She said sheepishly
He smiled, gently let go of her hand, and then shrugged his broad shoulders.
"I guess I am. Not what you expected?"
"Not—exactly." She stammered.
"To be fair you're not what I expected either, but I guess you're tolerable." He winked. "I like to check up on the new employees every once in a while, like yesterday."
"So you were spying on me?" She exclaimed, crossing her arms.
He chuckled, running his hand back through his curly black hair.
"Yes—in a way. I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble."
"O-of course not, not at all. Yesterday was really slow, and you coming in was just a little bit of a surprise at 5:30 in the evening is all, but I had everything under—" She stopped when Darcy put his hand on the back of his head nervously.
"I'd like to take you out for dinner."
Lizzie's stomach did a little flip inside of her when she heard that. She blinked several times.
"For, um—ahh, a pro-fession-al reason?" She stammered, gripping the tip of her ponytail with her fingers, and bobbing up and down on the soles of her feet.
"Not—exactly. More like a date-but it could be professional if you'd like it to be." He answered, his eyebrows raised and his eyes cast downwards, almost crestfallen.
"NO!—sorry, no, of course not. A date sounds lovely. Um why, exactly, if I may ask?"
"Well, because I like you. Does it have to be complicated?" He smirked, turning to serve the next customer who had just walked through the door.
"I guess not." Lizzie muttered. What just happened?She asked herself, leaning against the glass baked goods display adjacent to the wooden counter.
"You can say no, if you want to. I know it's a little sudden." He said as he closed the till again.
"A little? Don't you mean very?" Lizzie exclaimed, gesturing with the hand. Darcy laughed, the lines around his eyes deepening.
"Oh alright, it's very sudden. I'm sorry."
"I forgive you." She answered, as she smirked and grabbed the last lemon-poppyseed muffin from the glass display. She split it in half, giving one part to Darcy, and taking a bite of the other. "I accept," She said, mouth full, "on one condition."
"And what is that?" Darcy asked, smiling as he took a bite of the muffin.
"Every shift I get is this amazing.