Jenlisa Oneshots

make me yours

Rain is the worst.

At least, that's what Lisa's sticking with. Every time it rains it inevitably sours her mood and draws complaints from her. It's not exactly the rain that's the problem, it's the people. A gunmetal grey sky and gloomy surroundings? That's fine. It's more its unerring tendency to always make people late, always rendering them unable to navigate the same route to work, misplace items, or any other number of ridiculous minor inconveniences. Lisa can't understand it, especially with the accuracy of weather forecasting in this day and age. She simply ensures utmost preparedness; equips herself with a pair of waterproof boots, rain coat, and umbrella before braving the buckets falling out of the sky lately.

Rain in itself is a lovely thing; Lisa's quite fond of the acoustics. The pitter-patter against roofs, the swooshing of cars through puddles, and if she's lucky, the low rumble of thunder in the distance. It's soothing. If she focuses on that rather than the way people typically rush about on a rainy day during her morning commute to work, her day will go fine.

Except today, apparently. That quickly becomes evident when Lisa steps off the train and is greeted by a large handwritten sign.

FLOODED (sorry!) CLOSED

As a coffee connoisseur, the sky's recent deluge has flooded Lisa's favorite coffee shop. The sudden rise in the water level left the underground-situated shop walls seeping and several inches of stagnant water on the floor. Wonderful. Lisa gazes at the sign plastered on the window for another moment, wistful already at the thought of her usual coffee waiting just beyond the locked door. A low dose of annoyance and disappointment circulate her veins. Since her move to LA, it had taken a few weeks for the baristas at this coffee shop to recognize her and memorize her drink, making for easier mornings. This is her coffee place and she's not one to deviate from her normal routine. Maybe she doesn't have to go anywhere else; maybe she could survive one day without any coffee.

Yeah right. She snorts and fishes out her phone to pull up a search for the nearest coffee shop. She sighs when she realizes the nearest one is three blocks away and the opposite direction to her place of work. Resigned to her fate, Lisa pops open her umbrella and navigates toward her source of caffeine. Like all coffee shops, it smells sweet- freshly ground beans, and something distinctly fall: pumpkin spice. The space is outfitted with small tables, sofas, and local art. Everything Lisa expects until a shimmer of gold catches her eye.

The barista.

Fuck. Lisa stumbles as she passes through the doorway, but she'll blame it on her preoccupation while closing her umbrella and not the gorgeous woman behind the counter. She's absolutely beautiful. It's cliché and Lisa knows it, but as the line reduces, the brunette's attractiveness grows exponentially. Lisa watches her move: from the register to the espresso machine, blender, and back to the register. There's a unique carefree lightness about her, a stark contrast to customers' wet coats, black umbrellas, and rain depressed moods-Lisa included, up until this point anyway. Now rain drips from her umbrella and forms a puddle on the floor but she doesn't notice, instead lost in the squirm of butterflies in her belly and the draw of her eyes as though to magnets that exist in the form of cat-like eyes and an easy smile. A fellow barista speaks to her and the brunette barks a laugh that's deadly contagious, infecting a smile on Lisa's lips.

"Hi, welcome to Sky Café," the brunette greets and oh, God, her voice is deeper than Lisa expected, almost husky, like she smokes a pack a day or just rolled out of bed. The visual for that second option has Lisa's belly exploding with warmth and she looks away, cursing herself for blushing. The brunette tilts her head, smile curling higher on one end. "How can I help you?"

Lisa clears her throat and forces herself to make eye contact. She drinks in the girl behind the counter in a socially acceptable pause (without seeming like a creep, hopefully), though she swears she's receiving the same look: a quick once-over; a bite of the lip; a tick of the brow.