Every day. A beautiful girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, would come in to get a coffee from my mom's cafe.
Her sea green eyes would pierce through your skin if she stared for too long.
She would always have her long, wavy black hair tucked behind one ear.
Every day.
Every day for a year I saw her.
She would come into the small cafe and come up to the counter.
"Hi!" She'd smile.
She'd then order the drink, a large iced coffee with two pumps of vanilla in the spring and summer, and a medium caramel macchiato in the fall and winter.
She occasionally had a book in a language I can't understand, or a notepad and pencil, where she made the most amazing art.
In simpler terms, she was perfect.
One day, I was going to ask for her number, but for the first time in almost a year, she didn't come to the cafe.
I thought she was just sick, or had to stay home to take care of a family member.
Perhaps she was on a vacation, or got injured.
But she wasn't there.
Not the next day.
Not the next week.
Not the next month.
Not the next year.
It had been about a year and a half since I'd last seen the girl.
It had been about a year and a half since my heart was broken by a girl I didn't even know.
I was now eighteen, I was applying to colleges and universities, and I still thought of this girl whenever I went into the cafe.
This beautiful, kind, perfect girl who I didn't know and hadn't seen in over a year, just thinking 'Today's the day. Today, she will walk through those doors again.'
But no matter how much I wished I could see her again, I didn't.
Well, not until one day in the middle of June.
I had heard a loud, rowdy group of teens enter the cafe.
Now, usually, I don't like when people are like that in cafes, but this was different.
It was different because of one person.
The girl was back, and she had a glowup (if that was even possible).
Her hair was tied into a messy bun, with a few strands out, she was taller, and extremely fit, like, fit as in I could see her abs through her shirt.
Although, I will say, I was very curious. I could see many scars on her arms and legs, a few on her face.
"Hi!" She smiled, just like she used to. "Could I have a large iced coffee with two pumps of vanilla?"
I smiled back as I typed her order into the machine "Of course. And anything for your friends?"
The other eight ordered some other season-appropriate things, lemonade, iced tea, that sort of thing.
"Alright." I said, "that'll be $38.75, how would you like to pay?"
"Debit, please. And um, correct me if I'm wrong," she licked her lips, "but are you the person I used to see here everyday? I always meant to ask, but I never got your name?"
"Observant, I see." Setting up the machine for her to pay and laughing a bit. "But yes, my mom owns this place, so I've helped out around here most of my life. My name is Dylan, by the way."
"Pierce. Sorry for not being around here in a while, I had to deal with some... family issues, and my family are insanely dramatic about everything, not to mention they live in Greece."
Pierce... that name really fits her.
I printed her receipt and wrote my number on it, giving it to her.
Her bubbly smile turned into a grimace for a second before she composed herself, but I caught it.
Hopefully she just wasn't expecting it?
I continued to take orders for a few minutes, and then I heard it.
I heard what I probably should have known before.
One of my coworkers yelled out Pierces order, and after thanking her, that's when she said it.
"Babe, can you come help me with this?"
Babe.
Of course she was dating someone, why wouldn't she?
A pretty girl walked up to the counter and grabbed a few drinks.
She had her brown hair in a messy french braid with a feather braided in, and eyes I couldn't make out the colour of. She was shorter than Pierce, but not by much, and she was still taller than me.
The group of teenagers started talking in a language I didn't understand, perhaps the language those books were in. They were talking in hushed tones, probably about something important.
I quickly had to stop observing them, since another customer had come up me. By the time they were done ordering, the group of teenagers were gone.
After that, I didn't see any of them for a couple months.
One day, however, Pierce, and her girlfriend came in, both with bandages on some parts of their bodies, and I couldn't help but wonder what had happened.
Pierce's girlfriend came up to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate and a iced coffee. As she ordered, I couldn't help but notice the look on her face and the tears in her eyes.
Once she got the drinks, I looked back at the table she and Pierce were at, both looking on the verge of tears, holding a pair of broken glasses.
