Meet Cute

Chapter 1

Before I met Chris and before I had even a modicum of success as a writer I worked at a little cafe in Los Angeles. I was trying, to no avail, to find a job as a freelance writer for an online blog somewhere in the city but worked there to make ends meet. But when a stranger walked into that cafe little did I know everything would change.

*****

"Hey, Estelle!" I shouted from the living room of our apartment. "Do you know what happened to my nametag? I cannot find it anywhere and I have no idea where I put it." She walked into the room with her toothbrush hanging from the side of her mouth. "I could've sworn I saw it when I walked into the kitchen this morning."

"Did you check your purse?" She asked, her voice muffled as she continued brushing her teeth and walked back to the bathroom. "You always leave it in there, Laurel."

"Yes, I already looked in there," I said and ruffled through my purse one last time. "I didn't find it when I-" I paused for a moment and defeatedly pulled my nametag out of my purse.

"I told you." She said from the bathroom.

"You are a bonafide genius." I laughed and grabbed my car keys from the kitchen counter. "I'll see you tonight."

Estelle walked back into the living room. "You better not be late tonight. It's Casey's birthday and she will rip that pretty little head clean off your shoulders if you're late again."

"I know, I know. I promise I won't be late. I'll give you twenty dollars if I am." I told her and made my way to the front door.

"I will take you up on that." She laughed and waved me out of the apartment.

*****

By some miracle, I got to work five minutes before my shift started, much to the surprise of my manager.

"On time for once?" Mark laughed at me as I walked behind the counter and set my things in the back. "I hope this lasts."

"Early actually." I joked. "But I can't make any promises. You know me too well for that." I pulled my notebook out of my back pocket and started scribbling down some random notes.

He smiled at me and went back to making himself a cup of coffee. "This much is true. So, what kind of drink would suit your fancy this morning?"

I held my pen up to my chin in thought. "I'm thinking just a classic vanilla latte with some swan art."

"I'll see what I can do for you." He went back to preparing the coffee and I sat in front of the counter continuing to write in my notebook. "Any inspiration come to you this morning?" He asked, hearing my pen run against the paper.

I chuckled. "Not unless you count waking up twenty minutes late and scrambling to get ready as inspiration."

"I'm sure you could do a lot with that for a story." He placed a mug next to me on the counter. "A love story. A compulsively late barista struggling to make it big as a writer meets a handsome mysterious stranger one day. It practically writes itself." He joked and sat down next to me.

I shook my head and chuckled. "I've never been one for cliche stories, Mark."

"Laurel, I hate to break it to you, but you are a cliche. Probably in the wrong city though."