Chapter Three: Wintermelon Iced Tea

It was Monday, June 19th.

The weather outside was so sweltering that, even from her seat, Pearl could see the steam coming off the asphalt. Thankfully, the air conditioning inside Bean There Done That Cafe was heavenly, so several customers (including herself) had made it a refuge from the heat. Greg was seated some distance away, busily reading a newspaper while sipping his coffee. Near the door, a pair of college students were engaged in an intense whispered conversation, their cakes forgotten on the table.

That was until the blue-haired one stood up and approached Pearl.

"Are you a regular here?" the blue-haired stranger bluntly asked. "I feel like I've seen you before."

"Ah, no. Not really," Pearl curtly replied. "I just came in to get out of the heat."

"Oh. Okay." She went back to her seat and promptly resumed the hushed discussion with her bespectacled, spiky-haired partner.

Pearl wanted to feel annoyed at that, but she couldn't help smiling when she heard the door chime and saw Steven rush in while frantically fanning himself with both hands. He was her closest friend at the college, at least among the people of the rock music department of geological engineering.

"Good morning!" he greeted everyone, before shuffling over to the counter. "Hi, Sadie. I'll have an extra extra large wintermelon milk tea. On the rocks, please. I was melting out there."

"Your usual, huh?" chirped Sadie as she wrote something on a plastic cup.

"And maybe an extra serving of tapioca— Pearl?" Steven had noticed her watching him, so she gave a little wave.

"Hello, Steven."

He handed Sadie a quarter for the drink, then headed over to Pearl's table. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just having some pie and tea while working on this very important essay." Pearl nodded to the laptop open in front of her. "It's due tomorrow."

Steven looked at the laptop over her shoulder, only to find a blank word document staring back at him.

"You're just here to spy on my date with Connie, aren't you?" he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Me? Spy on you? Pfft! T-That's—" Pearl laughed. A high, hysterical laugh that was so painfully fake. "That's ridiculous, that's what it is!"

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. "Pearl..."

"Okay, fine." She sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. "But I'm really not here to spy on you. It's just a happy coincidence that you're having your first date in the same cafe where she— Ah!" Blushing furiously, Pearl ducked until only the top half of her head peeked over the laptop.

Steven followed Pearl's gaze to one of the baristas who had just arrived to work. She was tall, broad shouldered, and had her pink hair up in a loose ponytail.

"'She' her?" Steven asked. "Who is she?"

"Nobody!" said Pearl, a little too quickly. Then she dramatically pointed at the window. "Oh look, Connie's here!"

Outside, Connie was indeed crossing the street and heading towards the cafe.

"What?! She's early!" Steven yelped. He even took out his phone to double check the time. But when he saw the screen of his phone, he visibly paled. "4:40PM? That can't be right."

"Didn't you say you're meeting her at five? I'd say she's right on time." Pearl playfully slapped him on the back. "So chin up, Steven! No need to be so nervous, I'm sure you'll do fine. And anyway, if you do need some, ah, assistance on your date for whatever reason, I'm going to be here all morning. I could be your 'Ultimate Wingman'!"

Steven chuckled and rolled his eyes at her in the most endearing manner. "Aww. Thanks, Pearl."

As if on cue, Lars arrived at their table with a tray of drinks on one hand and a plate of apple pie on the other. He put down a steaming teapot, a grande cup, and the pie plate beside Pearl's laptop.

"I hate Mondays," he grumbled before leaving.

"Hang in there, bud," Steven called after him. He then gave a brief nod to Pearl, grabbed the hot chocolate grande, and then headed to an empty table.

The door chimed again as Connie entered the cafe, not even sparing a glance at Pearl. Her eyes were only for Steven. Smiling serenely, she sat down beside him, and they started chatting. Pearl couldn't hear anything from their exchange— not that she wanted to eavesdrop on their date— so she just shrugged and let her attention drift elsewhere.

Her eyes fell on a lovely barista behind the counter, the one with pink hair and a smile so gorgeous, it caused hearts to skip a beat or ten. She was wearing a white dress shirt that hugged around the contours of her body, her full chest quite noticeable despite the black apron over it. She was preparing a drink for another customer— probably an iced coffee, given that she was using a cocktail shaker— and Pearl couldn't help but notice how the thin fabric of her sleeves stretched, almost ripping, every time her biceps flexed with each shake. Neither could she help wondering how it would feel to wrap her fingers around those strong, well defined arms and— Ahh, what she wouldn't give to have those arms at either side of her head, their faces closing in on each other until they met lips against lips, body against body, skin against...

Pearl slapped her own cheeks with both hands, mortified at herself. How could she ogle someone who was just trying to work in peace? That was highly inappropriate! Oh what would she think of her now?

She vigorously shook her head to derail mind off that train of thought. She also might as well distract herself with tea and pie before they both got cold. Her fingers curled around the warm handle of the teapot, lifting it up to pour herself a cup. As the dark steaming liquid swirled inside the porcelain, the fragrance of cinnamon wafted to her nose. Mixed with the sweet aroma of apple pie, it was simply divine and Pearl couldn't help the dreamy, almost obscene sigh that left her lips.

She then grabbed her fork, carefully stabbing the tip of the pie. It was a delight to hear the crust crunch as the tines sank into it, and then watch the filling ooze out as she brought the fork further down, breaking a piece off. Ah, such decadence! She lifted a forkful to her lips, opened her mouth, and then…

She stopped.

She closed her mouth and put the fork down.

Then she glared at the pie as if it had personally offended her.

It was... strange, to say the least. Pearl liked pie. She wanted to eat pie, especially the slice of perfection sitting in front of her. And yet the idea of putting it inside her mouth— feeling it grind between her teeth and rub against her tongue until she had to swallow— it only left her feeling trepidated. Maybe even a little disgusted. Neither of that made sense.

But there must be something behind that— a reason, an explanation, a memory— something at the back of her mind, or at the tip of her tongue, or an itch in her brain that she couldn't quite scratch. Something she had forgotten— something urgent. Something of life-and-death importance...

"Oh, of course!" she said, slapping a hand to her forehead. "My essay!"

It was due tomorrow and worth twenty percent of her final grade. Failure to submit it on time could bring her average down to dangerous levels. She could lose her scholarship.

No, she couldn't have that.

Her hands hovered over the keyboard. She looked at the screen, at her still empty document. The cursor was blinking at her. Blinking, and blinking some more, it mocked her for the lack of typing going on.

She couldn't help it.

She had no idea what her essay was supposed to be about.