Only Yours

08. Hopeful

Lucius

I'm craving one of those frappes; it was delicious.

Sweet, with the twang of coffee. And the cream. . .

Rolling the vehicle to a stop along the curb, I cut the engine. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I'm surprised at the impulse to stop. My cravings usually take a back seat, but after yesterday, it's been on my mind since last night.

Waiting for an oncoming car to pass, I climb out and lock up. The weather is still cool out but not as nippy as yesterday, so I roll the sleeves up to my elbows and embrace it.

The town is a lot quieter than yesterday in terms of pedestrians; as for the cars, they make up for it. Flashes of various colours pass by as I take long strides across the street, a little too impatient to wait for cars to fully pass before crossing.

The thought of returning to the little café stirs something deep inside my gut. That little ripple is soon accompanied by the memory that triggers it. The barista.

Her colleague called her Tamina. An unusual name for an unusual woman. It looked like she enjoyed her work, as if my order was making her day rather than mine. She was kind, and you can see it in the way her eyes sparkle; I know I did the minute she was comfortable with me, like pools of spring water beneath the sun.

I wonder if she's working today. . .

At the thought, my stride quickens. Before I know it, I'm hauling the door open with more purpose than intended. The seats are scarcer than yesterday, but the rare few who do dot the seats glance my way before resuming their natter. I clear my throat. Not allowing the foolishness a chance to deter me, I eat up the distance to the counter. The closer I get, the harder my heart pounds.

It's her.

There's no mistake about it. From behind, she's the right height, her hair is the same shade of champagne as if it had been freshly poured. However, unlike yesterday, it's down in thick, luscious waves rather than up in a tidy ponytail.

Shit, I don't want to hassle her on her day off. I should slip away before she notices me.

Now that I'm standing right beside her, it dawns on me that I wouldn't know what to say to her anyway.

I'm halfway through a pivot when she has the same idea, and we both startle each other. A sharp breath catches in my throat, whereas she physically jolts, which is small and adorable. She's quick to compose herself, and I moronically hope the wide shock in her eyes is a flash of recognition.

My heart starts to relax at the thought.

"Hey, you're the customer from yesterday, the frappe!" she beams, unknowing of the effect her reaction has just slammed me with. "Did you like it?"

Nothing can control the erratic beats now, not even forcing myself to believe she's like this with every customer she comes across.

It's hard to not let how much her words mean to me show on my face, so I scrub a palm down until I feel like I won't grin and rub my nape.

"I did, thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better recommendation."

I try to sport one of my killer smiles for two reasons, and two only: to hide the cheesiness creeping up, and to flirt a little. It doesn't come out the way I want, and I know it doesn't work either. She simply stares up at me with an innocent smile. I can't use those tricks on her; it doesn't feel right.

I cut a look over my shoulder at the door.

"I left something in my car," I blurt so casually it echoes in my mind, growing ridiculous by the second.