the other side of us | ✓

1.9 | new kind of tension

It came as a great surprise to Devin and Charlotte that Mason was good at waiting tables. The customers seemed to like him, and he'd yet to spill anything.

"I need more coffee for the corner table," he said, leaning over the counter to hand Charlotte the empty pot.

"Regular?" she asked, swiping a hand across her forehead to remove the hair that kept falling into her eyes. As the afternoon had gone on, the small café had gotten warmer, which was half the reason that Charlotte had removed her bulky sweater. He nodded, and when she turned around, Mason admired her in the pale green top that she was wearing. It hugged her waist as she stretched to reach the top of the coffee machine, exposing a small strip of skin where the shirt met her navy jeans.

Mason was a gentleman—but he was still a guy. He knew a pretty girl when he saw one, and Charlotte checked a lot of boxes.

"Here," Charlotte told him, thrusting the now-filled container at him. "I'm gonna grab the last batch from the oven. Hold down the fort."

And then she was gone, and Mason suddenly realized that he was alone in a café filled to the brim with people he didn't know. Well, he wasn't technically alone, because Charlotte was in the back, but up until that moment, either Charlotte or Devin had been on the floor with him. But Devin had ducked out a few minutes ago to pick up her little brother from basketball practice, meaning that the only person who could get the scones when the timer went off was Charlotte.

He took a deep breath.

"More coffee?" someone across the room requested, and Mason hastened to fill their cup, careful not to spill the hot liquid.

"Can I grab anything else for you?" he asked politely, clearing the old man's plate.

"Perhaps you could tell me who you are?" the old man asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Mason. I'm a friend of Charlotte."

"Charlotte? Huh." Mason twitched his eyebrows at the confusion in the old man's tone.

"Pardon?"

"I haven't heard anyone call her Charlotte in years. It's always Charlie."

Mason cracked a smile. "She looks more like a Charlotte than a Charlie to me."

He laughed, and the sound made Mason want to join in as well. "I suppose she does. She's a pretty young thing, isn't she?"

Charlotte had come back round to the front of the shop again, and Mason turned his head to glance at her.

"She is."

"Don't get any ideas boy," the man said now, tapping Mason on the head to get his attention again. "Jim Thomas'll have your head if he hears. He's got his heart set on Charlie and his nephew gettin' together."

"Is that so?" Mason asked in a wry tone.

"That's so. In fact, every weekend—"

"Mr. Dunst! Are you harassing my help?" Charlotte asked, her voice suddenly behind them. Mason jumped, startled.

"Never, Charlie. I'm being a respectful patron."

Charlotte snorted. "That's a lie, and we both know it. Devin's had to ask you three times to stop making sideways comments."

"Where is that pretty girl, anyways? I need to pass along my thanks for those lemon bars she dropped off."

"We all know who really made those lemon bars, and it certainly wasn't Devin."

Mr. Dunst laughed, and Mason chuckled with him.

The regulars at Poppy's amused him. They all seemed to care about Charlotte a lot, more than customers typically cared about their barista.