Jane had never understood people who said they fell in love at first sight; she found the notion shallow on the whole. Maybe she'd just never been interested enough in the idea of romance to bother looking in the first place, but for whatever reason, everything seemed to align that first time Maura Isles walked into the coffee shop.
Jane had been working at Cup Of Joe's since the summer, and was down to part-time since she'd started "thirteenth grade." One Saturday in September, she'd offered to cover her friend's shift - and she often wondered what might've happened if she hadn't been there the first day this absolute vision walked through the door.
She was clearly one of those girls Angela had always hoped Jane would blossom into: one who knew just the right way to dress, just the right amount of time to spend on her hair. Seriously, how did she get it that sleek? Was the gold her natural color? The yellow cashmere sweater might've been draped onto her by an artist, and the tight dark jeans painted on. And yet the first thing Jane decided to comment on were the sleek black boots that went up to the girl's shins.
And, flustered yet also determined to strike up a conversation, Jane said "I like your boobs," right as the girl got to the register. As if on instinct, she glanced down at her chest, then back at Jane, her mouth slightly open. Jane had realized her mistake the second it had slipped out, and instantly felt her face go red. "I—wow. I'm so sorry, I meant—I meant to say that I like your booTs," she said, enunciating the 'T' as much as possible. How to proceed from here? Further acknowledge the mistake and joke about it, or try to move on to the original point she'd wanted to make? She earnestly decided to go for the latter: "They're um, they look like really cool. Your boots. Um…yeah."
"Thank you," the girl said slowly, and Jane hated being unsure of whether that smile was intended to be gracious or condescending. "Michael Kors."
"Hm?"
"Michael Kors. The designer."
"Oh! Right, the designer. Love his stuff. I mean, that's why I was gonna ask you about them in the first place, because I thought they looked like um they were maybe Michael Course." She paused for a second to allow Maura the chance to keep talking about the boots, but quickly decided to move on instead. "What can I get for you?"
"I'm not sure," the girl murmured, scanning the menu board over Jane's head. "I just started school—"
"Yeah? Whereabouts?"
"BCU."
Jane whistled, and the girl smiled—this time sincerely. "Wow! That's amazing, good for you."
"Thanks! Do you go there?"
"Me? No, I uh…I'm at the junior college."
"Ah." (What Jane initially took as a lack of interest was actually the girl being unsure of how to tactfully move on from that surprising tidbit. She didn't want to make her barista feel badly about not going to a more prestigious school if it was something she might be insecure about.) "Well, maybe you could help me out. You see, the nice chairs in the library are always all taken, and there's no other quiet place I've found yet on campus to really study on weekends, and my suitemates always have boys over—"
"Ugh, boys are the worst," Jane groaned, and she mentally patted herself on the back for making the girl smile again.
"Anyway," she chuckled, "I've been scoping out local coffee shops or eateries to work in during lull hours."
"Well, here you go," Jane said, gesturing to the near-empty shop. "There's a Starbucks on the corner that takes up most of our business, even on weekdays - we have a pretty reliable couple hours around this time where the place is emptyish."
"What would you recommend? Off the menu, I mean."
"Caramel latte's pretty darn good."
"You've convinced me."
"Ha! Great. What name should we call for?"
"Maura."
It took Jane a moment to realize that Maura was extending her hand, and she grinningly shook it. "I'm Jane."
For the next week, Maura came in and out of the coffee shop, walking by frequently without going in because she couldn't see Jane working behind the counter. On times when she did catch her there, they would inevitably cause a small traffic jam in the line, as Jane asked about Maura's classes and Maura inquired about Jane's post-barista career goals. By Friday, her boss had come out to tell her to flirt on her own time, and Jane blushingly rang up Maura's order.
Maura stayed in the shop until everyone who'd been in line behind her had left. The only people left now were her, Jane, one of Jane's co-workers, and an elderly couple seated on the other side of the shop. Maura nudged her half-full cup of coffee, and it proceeded to spill all over the table.
"Oh, I'm so clumsy!" she cried dramatically, and Jane shoved her co-worker aside to reach the mess with a rag first.
"Careful there, hotshot," she chuckled. "Any get on you?"
"No, I'm all right. I just wanted to get you over here to ask you something."
Jane's heart pounded loudly in her ears. "Y-yes?"
"Have you got a tip jar? Because I realized I've been coming here almost a whole week, getting excellent service, and you've yet to see any tits from me. Whoops!" she said loudly, when Jane's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I meant tips. Guess you're not the only one here who's allowed to make Freudian slips."
"Uh, except the one I made was totally actually an accident, and you are just being publicly indecent," Jane snickered.
"You're right, that was crude and I apologize. Can I make it up to you by taking you to dinner?"
Jane just laughed and told Maura to check her receipt (which Jane had noticed she was always very efficient at keeping and storing). Her number was scrawled on the bottom in small print. "Sounds like a good plan to me."