((Cherish))

A simple story about coffee and maybe something more.

I disclaim Card Captor Sakura.

I claim the plot of Cherish.

((AN))

This story is based on something that happened in real life. However it just had nothing to do with coffee but it had everything to do with love. I would be very happy if readers enjoy reading this because I put "the (zenhir) factor" in to it.

>

'Saturday mornings'

"Two espresso shots, dark please…"

It was my Saturday morning shift, so that meant a line of customers. The store was slightly noisier and my hands a bit more full. Meaning in my right hand was a pencil that was neatly writing the nice man's order down, and my left was the receipt of the young lady who had just ordered a vanilla shake. I quickly handed it to her and smiled, a very sincere smile because I felt it. It was a warm, honest, content smile.

I loved Saturday mornings.

It was the Saturday morning where I would wear my favorite pink sweater to work. The one my mother gave me, the only sweater I had.

It was Saturday morning when I first really noticed him too.

"Sakura! Table seven please!" Yukito, the nicest manager one could get, called through the back door. I took two steps and retrieved the order with my now free left palm. He pulled the corners of his lips in to what I called a 'sneaky smile' and nodded his head in the direction of the counter where more customers were waiting for an order, "I'll take over this one."

I smiled at him too.

It was on my way to the right table and he was standing by the napkins counter. I didn't understand why I picked him out of the crowd of 'young people' that cluttered the shop and outnumbered all the old businessmen and ladies.

I brushed by him, and that's all I did. I barely touched him, maybe our elbows did a little, but it was nothing. He was wearing a nice dress shirt, it was white, and it differed from the logo tee shirts most of the other young guys in the store were wearing. Maybe that's why.

But I swear we barely had enough contact to cause anything drastic. But it happened anyways.

He dropped his cup of coffee.

And I tripped on the floor, and dropped the tray.

His shirt wasn't white after that.

He got up before I did and helped me up which I gladly accepted because the ground was so wet I could barely stand. My sweater was soaked in the back. That's when I realized he was wet too. In fact his entire shirt was damp and soaked through with brown coffee. I don't ever remember being so red. I'm sure I apologized at least ten times. Yukito rushed over and half the shop turned to see the commotion. If possible, I grew even warmer with the attention. I think somewhere in there the customer I knocked over asked if I was okay but I wasn't really paying attention. I had just completely ruined an order and dropped a cup of coffee on a customer.

"I'm sorry for the trouble sir – would you like another cup? The usual?" Yukito asked the boy who shook his head.

"Its nothing."

"Would you like Sakura to get a towel?"

The boy pulled at his now brown shirt and said something about needing to get it dry-cleaned anyways. I started apologizing to Yukito who patted my shoulder comfortingly.

I bowed my head, "I'm sorry, I really am."

The boy picked up his bag and that's when I realized it was wet too. At this point I didn't know how much worse it could get but then he looked at me. And it was the first time through all the mess that I got a good look at him. By his nice clothing I had pictured a college student with combed hair, a spoiled expression, and glasses. But his hair didn't look very neat, he wasn't anything spoiled, and I could never imagine glasses covering eyes like his.

I apologized again.

He gave me a funny look, "I should be saying sorry...I got you all wet too."

I looked down at myself and at my sweater, "Its okay…I can make another one…" I swallowed the lump in my throat. My best friend Tomoyo used to be a great sewer, I probably couldn't mimic the exact sweater. I'd probably make it worse.

He was the one who aplogized this time, and gave me a polite nod.

Then he just left the store with a soaking shirt and no coffee.

And that's how we met.

>

Yukito had asked the janitors to clear up the mess that in an hour everything had been going just as smoothly. Besides the fact that I had lost my favorite sweater (I cried for a while) I forgot all about it. I had other things to worry about.

But then I saw him again a week later. Saturday morning.

He was wearing another white dress shirt and I flushed just looking at how clean it was. I still remembered the color he left the shop in last week. It wasn't very white and coffee stains were hard to get out.

"The regular," He said.

I threw him a nervous glance, "…sorry?"

He sighed, "It's the same every week."

When I failed to respond he answered, "Black with ice."

I nearly forgot to write it down because I was wondering if he still remembered me. Maybe he was wondering why I wasn't fired. I was turning red just thinking about it.

I gave him one of my lesser smiles. I never failed to look cheerful in front of a customer, but in this one I felt less warm, more worry.

Yukito gave me his order. I had a tight grip on the tray through the whole voyage to his table.

I had another tight grip on the two dollars the customer had paid with; I put it besides the tray. I was relieved I had made it without any problems. Even though I did it everyday.

"It's on me…for last week." I explained quietly when he stared at the money on the table.

I expected him to widen his eyes and suddenly realize who I was and what I did. He just stared at it some more. Then he moved his eyes towards my face and I froze.

He thanked me and looked away out the window.

The trip back to the counter was much shorter. I was also slightly more cheerful than before. I also realized I was a little breathless. I felt I'd taken a run around the neighborhood.

He left moments afterwards and took his coffee with him.

I went to clear up his table. He had left a tip, which wasn't unusual, but still I was more than intrigued when I counted two dollars.

>

I learned from Yukito later that he was a regular customer. And every Saturday morning he would order black with ice. So he slowly grew in to the turn of things. I was puzzled as of why I never really remembered seeing him every week. But it didn't matter that much to me anymore, I was just glad he didn't hold grudges.

"The usual?" I asked him with a more sincere smile than weeks before. My dad was coming home from work today. He worked out of town so I was excited and more than happy to share it.

I never expected a smile out of him. I could just read the answer through his eyes.

I handed him his cup early, because Yukito had already prepped it for him, and he took it to his usual seat besides the large front window. That's when Yukito handed me another heavy tray. It was for table one, one of the four tables that were situated outside. It was a nice but warm day, so the door was closed to preserve the air conditioning. I then realized that I had placed it on my palm too far to the left and my right hand was already occupied with the task of pushing down the handle. I wasn't inexperienced with these challenges; it was just the day's building excitement that I had lost focus.

I didn't notice him until he had made his way besides my shoulder and pushed open the door for me. I was even more surprised when he took the tray off my palm and placed it down without spilling a single drop. But what unnerved me was how close he was when he brushed by. Our shoulders touched for a fraction of a second and I had held my breath.

"Be more careful," was all he said to me before going back inside.

He had a very nice balance and grip.

That's when I started to think.

What made him drop his drink anyways?

>

"Hey! Don't be late coming home today okay?"

"Okay!" I said, already halfway through the door.

"I said okay monster?"

"Okay!" I said more clearly and stumbled outside.

My dad had called in last week to say he couldn't make it back this month. I was disappointed. So my brother tried to make it up to me by trying to find the exact pink sweater I ruined a couple weeks ago, he looked all night but he couldn't remember the store mother had bought it from. But at least he tried.

I was only late last night because I had to stay and finish my homework. I didn't want my brother to know that my job was interfering with school. He would probably make me quit, and without my job, it would only mean he'd have to work overtime.

I had snuck out my math book. I planned to get it done today, maybe during break because Saturday mornings were usually packed.

Besides, Yukito was good at math, and he'd understand. But he and my brother were good friends and old classmates. He might tell.

But I tried anyways.

I sat down on a table during my forty-minute lunch break and started on the first problem. Half and hour later, I was only on number two. I was always a hopeless case on math. Usually Touya had to coach me through every problem, but I couldn't tell him that I had dragged it through a whole week.

"You're doing it wrong."

I looked up, startled. It was that boy; he was staring at my paper.

"Oh," I looked at the problem.

"You're doing it the hard way, and the answer's wrong too."

I grimaced, now someone I didn't even know was criticizing my work. Maybe I really should ask Yukito for help.

Then the boy sat down across from me. He slid the paper towards him but let it turn towards me and pointed at my division.

"It'll be easier if you just did this." He wrote a couple numbers out with my pencil and drew an arrow from the answer to the equation I had written, "see how this just took two steps and yours took six?"

I nodded. I didn't know there was an easier way. I did it the way my teacher taught me.

"But my teacher would like for us to write out all the steps."

He tapped the pencil at the paper and I looked down at it again and he said, "From the answer you can easily get the six steps, its like back tracking without any detours."

He wrote it out for me.

And this was the first time that I had ever understood a problem that fast.

I breezed through my homework in the last ten minutes with some advice from the stranger and by the end of it all I was smiling like usual again.

When I thanked him he simply shrugged.

Then I asked for his name.

"Li Syaoran."

I answered cheerfully, "Kinomoto Sakura, pleased to meet you."

He gave me a small smile and walked off. He left his cup of dark coffee at my table. When I picked it up I realized he hadn't finished it. I didn't see him drink it at all since he first sat down.

>

The next few weeks went by rather quickly. With some help I was soon doing math on my own. I stopped bring the book to work, and we stopped talking for some time.

Touya was happy when my teacher called to tell him that I had improved so much. He was curious, but he didn't ask me that many questions. Which was a good thing.

During mid November was the next we talked. And it came to me rather suddenly.

It started with a strange comment from Yukito while we switched errands. I was tying my apron back when he passed me.

"He's here to see you…" He said with a wink. I looked at him funny before patting down my apron and approaching the counter where I saw a boy wearing a dark blue dress shirt.

"How may I help you?" I said without really looking at him.

"I'm not ordering anything."

I recognized that voice and looked up rather surprised. I guess I just wasn't used to the different color dress shirt because Syaoran was staring at me, one hand wrapped around a plastic package I hadn't noticed before.

There was just one problem with that.

It was Friday.