Just My Usual, Thanks

Cassidy’s point of view 

Wow. Another gloomy day with the same old boring routine. How exciting. Twenty- four year old me would be in shock. At how dull and repetitive my life is, of course. Sure, I’m practically just out of college. I’ve got this job as an accountant, which I regret after finding out how tedious the job can be, but I suppose it pays well enough.

The highlight of my day would definitely be getting a nice, piping hot cup of strong coffee to start my day. However, rushing to get it in the morning on time without being late is not.

 I rush around the already busy streets of Pasadena to get to my coffee shop in time for a hot cup of joe. After avoiding a wave of other cranky fellow pedestrians, I practically jump into the warmth of the café. I shiver at the warm coffee shop, a nice contrast to the windy and wet state outside. I know I will have to venture out again, but I allow myself to enjoy a few minutes of warm, heated bliss. I take in the familiar cosy space. The coffee shop is small, holding some laminate artificial tables with matching brown wooden laminate chairs. The chairs have cushions on them that look like they need a few good washes to remove what life has been bestowed upon them. The café has various awards mounted on the orange-brown coloured walls. The manager recently put up artificial plants all around the café to give a more natural look. I won’t lie, it is quite an upgrade. I scan the black chalkboard to look for any changes on the menu. Nothing much, except they upped the price for a large chocolate muffin. The sound of an old upbeat tune along with the usual chatter and coffee steamers manage to soothe my nerves. The smell of bitter black beans and hearty vegetable soup manage to tickle my nose.

I take my cell phone out after getting in the surprisingly long line for coffee. Dang, seven fifty-four already? I’m a bit behind my planned schedule today. I briefly browse through my emails and messages. Well, looks like I’ve got quite a day ahead of me. My boss seems to have scheduled a meeting for eight o’clock. Wonderful, as if I’m not already going to be late. My turn in the line comes and without looking up from my screen, I say clearly to the barista, which I foolishly assumed was my sister, “just my usual, thanks.” No response. I look up from my phone and standing in front of me is someone I’ve never seen working here until today. 

“Some more specifics would be helpful,” said the mysterious man in front of me. I observe his sheepish smile, and the one dimple that flashed on his left cheek. Oh my goodness. He was absolutely model-like. That dimple. I hate how it made me blush.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, I’ll take her order. This one can be quite the pain,” says my older sister, Phoebe, who happens to work here. She gives me her usual cheeky grin whilst she gives a cappuccino to a cheerful elderly man.

“Oh ha ha. Very funny,” I say sarcastically as I roll my eyes at Phoebe. “I'll have a large macchiato. Extra hot, three sugars. You already know,” I say to Phoebe, putting my phone away. I try to steal another glance at the mysterious man, trying to be nonchalant and casual but failing miserably.

“Three sugars? Someone likes their coffee sweet,” laughs a familiar deep voice. It’s him again. He looks at me with those blue eyes again. I never thought someone's eyes could affect me that much. He looked like he could tell me a thousand tales with just his eyes alone.

“Yeah, she needs it because of how bitter she is.” Phoebe taunts as she shows Mr. Blue Eyes how to make my coffee. I scowl at Phoebe before realising I’m probably proving her point. “Just ignore her. She’s a witch,” I say in a surprisingly chirpy manner. 

“I suppose. She has given me my own dose of... comments.” He beams up at me, flashing me his pearly whites in a way that I can’t help but smile.

“I believe you,” I chuckle as I hand him 3 one dollar notes and some coins. I notice he brushes his dark, sooty waves away from his brows. For a brief moment, I notice what looks to be a small, hardly noticeable scar just above his left brow.

“So, you from here?” I cringe at my embarrassing attempt to make small talk. Without looking up from the cash register, he shakes his head.

“No, I’m actually from Hawaii. I came here for better job opportunities.” He proclaims proudly as he hands me a neatly folded one dollar bill of change. “Of course, I’m not going to work here forever,” he chuckles casually.

“Hawaii? That sounds exotic.” I take the coffee from Phoebe's hands. Looking up from the cup, I meet his eyes again, grinning from ear to ear. I check the time on the old clock on the wall behind him, panic courses through my veins. I am going to be late. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you, but I need to get going,” I sputter hurriedly. I watch as the clock strikes seven fifty-eight. 

Grabbing my coffee, I rush out of the coffee shop, waving goodbye to Phoebe and the man whose name I don't know. Shoot, I didn't ask him his name! I take one last glance back over my shoulder. Through the windows, I swear I could see the man looking at me. As soon as I laid my eyes on him, he looked away and went back to serving customers, a faint smile lingering on his lips.

I slump down into my office chair, making it here at about three past eight. I log into my ancient computer before going into the meeting room. I guarantee my computer still won't be ready by the time the meeting is over.

The day stretches on for what feels like forever. I find myself thinking about the new barista at different times of the day. Why did his smile, his dimple and his eyes affect me so much? It embarrasses me to think that I look forward to seeing him tomorrow. Oh, but how our fingers slightly touched when he gave me my change- forget it I'm being delusional. 

I put my hands in my dark green jacket coat. My pockets are full of tissues, wrappers and God knows what. I dig through my pockets and I find what some would consider ‘treasures’. A million tissues, a pack of opened spearmint flavoured gum, some loose change, candy wrappers, my apartment keys and the one dollar change I got from the café today. 

After I discard the rubbish and unnecessary items, I go to put my coins and one dollar back in my pocket when I notice something on my one dollar bill. Is that..? I see some red inked letters staining the crumpled green bill. Very carefully, I unfold the money. Inside the bill is written, in red curly writing, a message. ‘Hey, I didn't get your name today. Call me? - Antonio’ And ten digits. My jaw drops without my permission. I gawk at the note. A million questions instantly flood my mind. Does he like me? Should I call him? Would that be weird? My lips curl up into a stupid grin as I imagine his face and all kinds of different scenarios, only feeding my delusions. Whatever the outcome, I know for sure that I will get up a little earlier tomorrow.

Antonio’s point of view.

“Kiri, get off me,” I mumble to my black cat as she continues to lick my cheek with that razor sharp tongue of hers. I pet her soft black fur, giving Kiri a kiss on her tiny, velvety head. I quickly glance at my white alarm clock on my bedside table. Time to wake up anyways. I get up, stretching before I fill Kiri's bowl with some food, before she decides to eat me instead. It's raining outside. Tiny water droplets hit the windows, racing each other to see who will reach the bottom of the window pane first. After staring out into space for a few minutes, I finally gather up enough motivation to go take a shower and get ready. 

I put on some casual black jeans and a black jumper over a black t-shirt. My goodness, the dress code is trying to turn me into a lump of coal. Before I leave my shabby apartment, I take a water bottle, my phone and keys. I call out to Kiri. “Bye Kiri, love you.” I lock the door after me, faintly hearing the little tip-taps of her paws on my wooden floor.

I begin to hastily trudge to the café. Conveniently, it just so happens to be on the next block over, according to an elderly man I bumped into.

 I stand in front of a snug little café. Hey, he was right after all!

I walk into the heat of the café, the smell of vegetable soup and roasted black beans hit me like a ton of bricks. The smell was so aromatic and comforting. I'm going to like it here. 

After being introduced to the staff, this girl with shoulder length blue hair called Phoebe, began to show me how to make the café's signature drink: coffee. She is quite chatty and gregarious. 

The café starts to get more busy by the second, surprising me yet again at the population of Pasadena. As I'm making a black coffee, someone enters the café. A girl with short curly brown hair. And she is beautiful. I try to busy myself to prevent myself from gawking at this goddess. She enters the line and I try my best to listen to Phoebe's advice on baking and coffee making, blah blah blah. Then, she is standing in front of me again. 

“Just my usual, thanks,” she says clearly to me, not looking up from her phone. I'm not too sure how to respond to her request, since I literally don't know what her name is, let alone her usual. 

“Some specifics would be helpful,” I hear myself speak, hating how strangely sheepish I sounded. I see her look up from her phone. She looks mortified, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson.

“Oh, don't worry about her. I'll take her order, this one can be quite a pain,” Phoebe starts, grinning madly at the lady whilst she hands a steaming cappuccino to an elderly man. I turn to the lady again, who quickly looks away, now facing Phoebe.

“Oh, ha, ha. Very funny.” I recognise the lady’s sarcastic tone as she rolls her eyes, sassily, at Phoebe. “I’ll have a large macchiato. Extra hot. Three sugars. You already know,” she says, with a type of confidence that is humble and strangely optimistic. I take a quick mental note of her usual in my mind.

“Three sugars? Someone likes their coffee sweet,” I say with a chuckle, grinning from ear to ear. I see her smile softly, looking at me for a second before breaking the gaze. I can feel my ears turning slightly scarlet. Then Phoebe takes me beside the coffee machine, her steps light and airy. She demonstrates how to make the lady’s usual. 

“Yeah, she needs it because of how bitter she can be,” says Phoebe, with another one of her goofy smirks. The lady scowls at her, looking riled up. I bite back a chuckle, trying to be discrete with my glances at the mysterious lady.

“Just ignore her. She’s a witch,” the lady practically laughs. I love the way her voice sounds. Smooth like velvet, yet runny and sweet like honey.

“I suppose. She has given me my own dose of… comments,” I beam up at her, giving her a toothy grin. My heart practically melts when I see her own smile. It is sweet and mellow. Her smile has the ability to stop wars.

“I believe you,” she chuckles softly as she hands me her cash. Our fingers slightly glide against each other for a brief moment. Her fingertips are soft like satin. 

I turn to put the cash in the cash register, when I get an idea. A risky idea.  Beside the cash register is a red pen. I look around for a scrap piece of paper. No luck. I calculate how much change she would get and I nearly flip with joy. Exactly one dollar worth of change. I consider my idea. Should I? Should I not? Whatever, all my life I’ve played it safe. I quickly scribble a note and my phone number on top of the one dollar bill. I write, ‘Hey, I didn’t get your name today. Call me? -Antonio.’ I quickly write my digits next to it.

“So, you from here?” she asks me with a quizzical smile. 

“No, I’m actually from Hawaii. I came here for better job opportunities.” I hand her the tightly folded one dollar change. “Of course, I’m not going to work here forever,” I chuckle, trying to act nonchalant.

“Hawaii? That sounds exotic,” she says, sounding genuinely interested as she takes the coffee from Phoebe’s hands. I smile at her again. She smiles at me too, that is, until she sees the clock on the wall just behind me. Looks like someone is going to be late. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you, but I need to get going,” she manages to sputter out. I watch with an amused grin as she hastily leaves the coffee shop, waving goodbye to Phoebe and I. I casually observe her as she gets rushed away by the crowd and her own feet. She turns to look behind her back to see me observing her. I look away quickly, trying to hide the smile that was playing on the corners of my lips. I quickly turn my phone off silent, awaiting a phone call that will either come today or never.

                                                        The end. [for now]