Except Wednesdays

Angela:

She's my large vanilla latte girl. She comes in every morning, except Wednesdays. And I only know that because I filled in for for Bella one Wednesday and vanilla latte girl didn't come in.

Large vanilla latte with whole milk in a to-go cup. Even though she always stays. She sits at the outdoor table and sketches... something. Or she tries to sketch. Mostly she just stares at the page. I wonder what she's drawing. Portraits? Designs? Who knows?

And she hums. I don't know the songs that play in her head, but they're beautiful.

She's beautiful.

Alice:

She doesn't work on Wednesdays.

So I save the five bucks.

I know it's a bit stalkerish, finding your favorite barista and adjusting your schedule to hers. But there's something about her that makes me want to be near her, makes me want to say more than my order.

I know her name because she wears a name tag and she knows mine because she marks my cup each visit.

Her eyes are inquisitive and sometimes I catch her looking at me as I sit with my books. I'm supposed to be a clothing designer...

So why do I draw her instead?

Angela:

Dresses. Sometimes skirts, but mostly dresses. Simple. Classic. Natural fabrics; cotton, linen, wool.

Cardigans and ballet flats and bare legs.

She wears blue a lot, but not just blue. Azure. Sapphire. Alice Blue. It's a color; I found it online while I was googling shades of blue. It's pale and soft and light. Like her.

I do what a good barista does. I smile. I remember.

And I fade.

I blend with the dark wood and slate tile behind the counter, but I have a view of the windows, and the tables.

And her. Today she wore Cobalt. And she smiled at me.

Alice:

Monday - she's not here.

Tuesday brings her back and she smiles warmly at me after she calls my name. I raise up on my toes so that I can look at her as I slide the sleeve on my cup.

"Did you take a long weekend?"

"Excuse me?"

I hesitate. "You... you weren't here yesterday. I just thought you might have taken a trip."

The shy smile I receive is soft, sweet. Her.

"A friend was having a 'crisis' on Sunday night." She does the finger quotes things around the word crisis, making me think it was anything but.

Angela:

I'm wiping the table two down from her, enjoying the feel of the sun on my neck, when I hear it. She's not humming today.

She's singing.

Softly and under her breath, but I recognize the song. It's a classic; the kind of song that should never be covered, but always is. And it's not the kind of song you hum.

She looks up and catches my eye, her hand flying up to cover the grin on her lips. "I was singing out loud, wasn't I?"

I nod and smile and gesture that she should continue.

But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me.

Alice:

"Do you like coffee?"

"Excuse me?" She always answers with excuse me when I ask her something that is out of our routine, when I deviate from the script of us. She's wiping down the counter. We're the only two people in the store at the moment.

"I don't always like clothes, even though it's what I do. Well, I mean I like clothes but I don't always enjoy creating them..." I'm babbling.

She nods, like she's discovered something precious. "You design clothing."

"I do."

"I don't want to be here forever."

"No one wants to be at Starbucks forever."

Angela:

Alice seems brave, fearless. She starts conversations with me, asks me questions, tries to draw me out.

But she scares me. I want to know her, and after Lauren left, I didn't think I'd ever want to know anyone again.

I finish the design and I run a clean towel along the ceramic rim of the mug, making sure everything is just so. She'll be here shortly.

I have to ball my fists to keep my hands from shaking, and I work to slow my breathing.

"Morning, Angela." Her voice is like music.

I lift the mug full of vanilla latte, adorned with a cocoa powder heart in the foam, and extend it toward her.

"Since you always stay."

Alice:

"Don't go."

I know it's a selfish request but I pull the cover back anyway, hoping that she'll climb back into my bed. She's beautiful, I can only see her outline in the darkness of my room but I don't ever want her to leave.

"You know I have to be in for the early crowd." Her words say one thing but her body does another as she climbs back into the bed. My arm wraps around her waist, our soft skin kissing all over as she presses her body to mine.

A few more minutes? A few more hours? A few more days? A few more years? Forever?

"I'm not going anywhere."

A/N: This is a little something we put together for the gorgeous and talented winterstale for her birthday. A picture, a couple characters and some back and forth writing. We hope you like this little snapshot of our girls :) Thanks to TheHeartofLife for the bj. Heh. Beta-job, pervs.