You loved when the door of the coffee shop opened and she could smell the sea. It had been the only thing keeping her sane while she worked long hours, the reminder that the sea was still out there, waiting for her to run through the sand, play, dive in like a mermaid…
The bell clanged, the door opened, everyone suddenly stopped talking, and a smell like a storm moving toward the scene hit You sharply. She glanced up. A tall, stately woman with long dark hair spilling over her chest, what looked like a seaweed sarong wrapped around her waist, and deep green eyes stood barefoot, her stern gaze circling the room.
"Ma'am?" You spoke and suddenly the eyes focused on her, the woman's lips pinching in a pained grimace. "You can't come in here."
"Why not?" The voice was melodious, commanding, obviously not used to being challenged.
"No shoes, no…" You couldn't actually tell if there was any kind of a bikini top under the wet, clinging hair so she decided to ignore that, "service. we have a policy."
"Change it."
You laughed, "If I were going to change corporate policies, the first one would be this apron." You flipped the ridiculous and boring apron that was supposed to remind people of burlap sacks. Sure You looked cute in a burlap sack, but she was doing all the work.. She wanted to go back to just wearing a polo shirt with a smiling coffee cup and khakis. It was a uniform. You liked uniforms. Most of the baristas had been glad to wear their own clothes under the stupid apron, but You had mourned the fifteen minutes she lost picking out an outfit. Today, she'd been feeling girly and opted for a white sundress with blue highlights. Which was now stained because the repurposed burlap sack was worse than useless.
Barefoot and prim strode to the counter, to reach out and touch the apron where You had flipped it. "Not smooth."
"Not in any way. But you do have to leave." You pointed to the sign. "It's a health code thing."
"I'm not sick."
"Got it. You don't look sick, you look…."
Barefoot and striking tilted her head, green eyes curious and making You very aware of how few vocabulary words she had suited to this strange conversation.
"I look?"
"Wet." You winced.
A shrug, "I just swam up. That is an accurate observation." She leaned over the counter, staring down at You's striped, comfy skater shoes, "I will return with shoes."
You saluted, "Ay Ay, matey." And then collapsed on the counter when the door closed again. That had been a disaster. The smell of a stormy sea lingered.
###
Another shift. A very early one. You yawned, stretching her arms. She'd actually grabbed a bus rather than her usual jog. Just that kind of morning. She'd been very glad not to have been assigned to opening. Helps to flirt with your manager at least once a day.
There was a crowd around the front door so You ducked in the side. Time clocks had no sympathy for any breed of traffic jam and You didn't feel like shoving her way through people who might five minutes later be persuaded to shove an extra buck in the tip jar.
"Howdy!" You waved at Dany, who grabbed her arm in an act of physicality unusual for them, "I'm on time."
""Your friend's just standing there, blocking the door."
"My friend?" You was confused. Kanan and Chika avoided the coffee shop.
"You're the only one who looks like she described." Dany shoved You out past the counter before You could even grab a burlap apron from the hook, "Just get her out of here."
Standing in the door, glaring at the crowd outside, was the woman from yesterday, bikini top made out of some golden metallic material with emerald glints, and a sarong that feel loosely from her hips, held up by a wide belt of the same material as the bikini. She was also wearing scuffed up skater shoes that looked a lot like the ones You had on yesterday. They weren't tied.
You coughed.
The woman whirled.
"You!"
"Actually, it's You."
A glare. Funny wasn't getting You anywhere.
"Get her out of here," Dany hissed as a man in a suit futilely attempted to shove his way around the semi wet, curved blockade doubling You's gay every ten seconds. Maybe she was starting to feel feverish?
"My name is You." Slowly, maintain eye contact, do not wink or blink, You repeated in her head like new programming, "What's your name."
"Dia."
"I like it." You stepped forward, grinning, "Can we talk outside. My manager," You pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, "Likes the doorway free."
Dia considered, then nodded.
You stepped around her, shoved the scrum of desperate caffeine zombies back, and held the door open. "Let's head for the beach."
Dia glared at the people rushing past her and as soon as she hit the pier, stopped, kicked off her shoes, and picked them up.
"Not a shoe fan, huh?"
"Were these wrong? I traded a pearl for them."
"No, those are fine. Save 'em in case you get hungry."
Dia glanced down at You's feet. Today, You had opted for sandals. "Did you eat yours yesterday?" Dia asked seriously.
"What?! No. They just didn't go with my outfit. And I wasn't riding my deck to work."
"Deck to work? A boat?"
"A skateboard." There was a bench. You sat down on it. Dia remained standing, regal and nearly impossible to look at if You wanted to retain any of this conversation at all.
"Ah, I've seen those."
"Tourist, right. Some royal family in a mountain fortress somewhere."
Was that a giggle? Surely not. But You sat a little straighter.
"I am from somewhere else."
"Figured that out. How can I help? Do you need a you guide? I'm kinda on the clock right now, but if you came back, I could show you a few fun places to hang out."
"A date, correct?"
"Sure." You would take the bus every morning if this is the way her luck turned out when she did.
"I will return at sunset, then," A pause, a flick of the hair, a half smile, "You."
And then Dia, leaving both shoes behind like someone who'd never seen or read Cinderella, walked down the beach, never once looking back, striding into the water, waves crashing against her to no effect. You knew that because she watched until there was no one there to watch. And then she sat for another half an hour wondering where Dia had resurfaced. And what had been that golden glint that flipped in the air as her mystery date dove forward.