It's the slow part of the day, somewhere between the usual lunch time crowd and the frantic bustle of rush hour, when the suits and students alike are scrambling for their end of the day coffee for their travels home. It's this time of the day that Serena likes best. The café is never quite empty – there's always a few people sipping lattes and clicking away on their laptops – but it's quiet, and she has time to sit and prop her feet up and just relax a bit. Her boss doesn't mind if she does her homework or reads, as long as she's helped all the customers and done all the small tasks.
Being a barista was never really part of her plan, and her parents don't like that she works so many hours a week on top of school, but she likes that she's able to pay her own bills and take some of the financial burden off of their shoulders. Besides, it sort of just happened; she used to come here every day to study and get her work done, and eventually Andrew knew her name and not just her order. They got to talking, and suddenly she was behind the counter learning the difference between an Americano and a latte. It's a laid back work environment, and she gets all the free tea she wants.
She spent the last two hours of her shift working on a paper for her psych class, but now she's leafing through a magazine. It's something she grabbed off the coffee table without really looking, one of the scuzzy tabloids her roommate goes crazy over. It's full of celebrity gossip and comments on this girl's horrible fashion choice, that man's crumbling marriage, how much weight so-and-so has gained. It's definitely not the sort of thing Serena would buy for herself, but it's something mindless she can look at for a few minutes before tackling the rest of her paper.
The bell on the door rings, letting her know that someone has entered. She knows all of the people currently in the café; they're regulars, and she knows that it's too early for any of them to have left. She sets the magazine down and stands up, brushing a stray blond lock behind her ear.
Two young men walk in, their eyes covered with mirrored sunglasses that Serena can tell cost more than her half of the rent. One has very light blond hair, clipped short, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. The other's dark hair has been tossed messily by the wind, falling over his brow. He shrugs out of his wool jacket and approaches the counter. When he stops and takes off his sunglasses, Serena feels a spark of recognition.
"Good afternoon," she greets casually. "How can I help you?"
He nods in greeting. "Can I get two black coffees, please?"
His voice is smooth, his dark blue eyes trained on her. Serena smiles and turns to get his order when she sees him glance down. Too late, she realizes where she recognizes him from.
His brow furrows as he pulls the magazine toward him and turns it so that he can read the headline. Even though it's upside down for her, Serena can still see his face printed on the cover, the bright, blocky text above reading, "Prince Endymion a bachelor again! Lady Beryl left completely heartbroken. Are they really done for good?"
Serena feels the flush creep across her cheeks and down her throat. She doesn't know what to say, so she just finishes getting the coffees. When she returns, he's no longer looking at the magazine, which he's flipped over so that the cover is down.
"Here you are," she says, her voice incredibly soft.
"How much do I owe you?" he asks, his voice clipped.
Serena doesn't have words. She isn't sure which is more flustering: her embarrassment over the magazine or her complete uncertainty as to whether or not you are supposed to charge the next king of Earth for two cups of coffee.
Instead of saying anything intelligent at all, this is what stumbles out of her mouth: "If you're trying to be incognito, you aren't doing a very good job."
There is a moment of complete silence during which Serena realizes that no one in the café, other than the blond man that the prince entered with, is even remotely aware of what is happening. Still, she feels absolutely mortified by her own words, until the prince throws his head back and laughs. The sound makes her jump, and in the background, she sees the blond man quirk a brow and straighten a bit in his seat.
The prince finally stops laughing, though the smile lingers on his lips, and his blue eyes meet hers again. "No," he says, "I guess I'm not doing a very good job."
His smile encourages her, makes her feel that even though he's her prince, he's not completely insulted by her behavior. She stammers out, "I'm sorry about the magazine. I hope you aren't offended."
"How can I be?" he asks, shrugging a shoulder slightly. "It's part of my life. You don't have to apologize for it."
"It can't be easy," she says, wondering all the while what is making her so bold, wondering why her mouth can't just stay closed. This is her prince, after all, her future king. She's always been outgoing, but this is over the top, even for her. She can feel her face getting redder and redder.
"No," he agrees. "What's your name?"
She knows he's probably just being polite now, but she smiles and sticks out her hand as she says, "Serena."
She can see the look of mild surprise on his face, on the blond man's face behind him, and wonders if she's the only person in the entire world who has ever been this forward with him. She wonders if it's bad form, initiating a handshake with your future king.
Still, he's smiling as he grasps her hand with his own, which is big and warm. He chuckles as they shake hands, and she finds herself laughing as well. "This is a little awkward," she says to him even as they are still shaking hands. "What am I supposed to call you? My lord?"
"Please don't," he begs, his eyes honestly pleading with her. It strikes her, for a moment, that maybe she really is acting strangely, that no one ever treats him like a normal person. "Endymion is fine."
"Endymion," she repeats, feeling herself flush again at the scandal of being so casual with him. Then her gaze catches on the two paper coffee tumblers between them, and she cries out. "Oh, your coffee! It's probably cold!"
He's smirking a bit as he shakes his head and puts his hands against one of the mugs. "Still warm," he assures her. "Though you never did tell me how much I owe you."
Serena is embarrassed to think of the amount of color flooding her cheeks. She gives him a helpless smile and replies, "Am I supposed to charge you at all? I don't know the procedure for serving a royal."
She must have been a bit too loud, because even the blond man behind him laughs. Endymion simply shakes his head and places a five dollar bill on the counter. "That should cover the coffees and your tip," he tells her.
She's still flushing when he and his friend reach the door and he turns to wave at her. But he's smiling, so she must not have completely made a fool of herself, right?