Forelsket [Chapter One]

The calming smell of fresh brewed coffee filled my nostrils, transferring signals up to my brain, which caused an initial reaction that would increase the amount of saliva within my mouth. A swift inhale and I can taste the relaxing scent upon my taste buds, the flavor rich in cordiality further incorporated with my heartfelt effort to produce a good serving of steamy espresso for a patron awaiting at a chic bistro table just near a large window. The last time I looked over the man appeared to be occupied with his phone. 

Steamed milk poured out in a steady current thin line, creating a twirl of brown and white as the milk blended with the coffee, softening the dark color to one of mellow earthy tones. And my hand as a guide I directed the container and languid flow with great care, tilting the coffee cup in my other hand that aided in forming shapes, increasing volumes, and lowering densities as I trailed an illustration atop the surface crema, honing my artistic skills even further as I finished this Latte Art only for the amusement of the customer and others prior to his arrival.

After setting the warm cup on the counter and adding a few details, the result of my endeavor pictured water sprinkling out of a fountain similar to the one in Trafalgar Square, one of my best creations to date. But despite my work, there was really no use in including detail when the drink was going be consumed in a few minutes, but the spur to put my heart and soul in what I create was hard to resist, especially if what I create is for someone else 

Wherever I may go – like a companion –the essence of art remained by my side; it traveled together with me throughout most days, always ready to spring forth and engulf my mind whenever I demanded the skill in that moment. As a Barista, though part-time, it was a nice feeling to be able to enjoy my job when it doesn’t feel like work at all. No push of pressure was found when I’m more inclined to actually perform the task that I have taken interest in. Plus, those late night session of drawing and working on commissions God knows I needed the caffeine, just smelling it wakes me up. Not to forget the hot chocolate.

My step-dad got me fascinated in the skill of Latté art when I was fourteen – around the time he began dating my mom. Over time, we bonded quickly as he continued to show off his skills, and teaching me when he noticed my high regard for the talent he displayed so much without difficulty on his part. I was so infatuated with the concept that I decided to attend Barista classes, but by the time I involved myself in them I was thus far familiar with the mechanics of the Espresso Machine and latte art techniques, and of course there was things I’ve yet to learn in the field.

Satisfied with what I’ve done, I grabbed a small tray and with careful footsteps, carried the hot Coffee mug to the customer, eyes partially looking down at the liquid to make sure none spilled over while noticing in my sideway view a few people seated in different tables – either busy devoted to one of the pastries we serve, engrossed in their laptop or reading a book, and a scarce few in a group with no more than three people. Nonetheless, it was quiet and held a relaxing atmosphere; a distinct contrast to the cold alfresco just beyond the entrance door and glass windows.

“Here’s your Espresso, sir.” The smile was automatic, but hopefully the elderly man could see the warmth in my eyes as he glanced at me then down to his mug I set on the table. His eyes widened a pinch behind his glasses when he saw the art patterns in his drink; it was an expected silent reaction when any of my employees or myself presented a drawing.

“Oh my, this is splendidly done, miss.” I shut my eyes and felt my cheeks grow warm at the compliment, “It looks like a fountain! Wow, this is beyond my ability–I’m almost afraid to drink your hard work.”

Unable to withhold the embarrassment any longer, I placed the back of my hand against my mouth to stifle a shy laugh that gushed out softly. “Please, I made it for you, don’t worry about it, it’s made to be consumed any way. Just let me know if you need my help or ask for one of my workmates. Please enjoy.” I said and bowed my head to him before turning and walking back behind the counter next to the espresso machines.

Just then I felt my iphone vibrating in my blue jeans pocket, and I hastily placed my palm over the device strained inside the fabric in case anyone might hear it because it wasn’t precisely allowed as a rule. If I wanted to get away with it I needed to go in the back and find a shady corner for a quick peek, but that option was only if the manager was present, which he wasn’t today.

It was a text. Probably from Kate sending more instructions about this party she’s going to give in about two hours from now. I only got about thirty minutes until my shift is over so I can go home and get ready. She claimed it wasn’t going to be anything big, just a small group of friends hanging out and a few strangers I probably never met before. But that was cool too because I liked meeting new people and learning about them, it was one of my greatest attributes, as my mom would say, which I was inclined to agree, at least somewhat because I was so self-effacing for my own good.

Though, from what I can see as I made a quick scan across the small restaurant, everyone looked satisfied enough and wasn’t calling on the staff for anything. All five of us kind of loitered around until somebody needed us – nothing much to do because the tables that were empty was wiped cleaned, so why wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity to check on my text?  

Leaning back against the counter, I pulled out the small device and quickly began looking through the contents, peeking up occasionally for any wandering eyes that might have caught me in this act. But because the counter was pretty high it shielded their view from my middle region – I’m pretty short in stature– as I kept the phone low and out of sight – it did nothing to help quell the festering unease inside my gut though. I was more afraid of the eyes of my employees more so than the people, even though I knew they wouldn’t tattle tell. They were cool like that.

Instead of Kate as I anticipated it to be, it was my other friend, Cassie, saying that she was going to drop by my flat to walk with me to Kate’s place. Upon my lips a smile, evanescent in coming surfaced momentarily.

Cassie was a friend reliable and someone I can confide in other than my parents; we take the same classes in college, studying and doing assignments, for the mutual goal to gain a bachelor’s degree in art; but at the end of the semester came down to different ambitions of how we wanted our lives to continue on following college. Out of all the friends I made from my ever ending initiation, besides the ones that have proven their worth like Cassie, she was a dear friend I could depend on. The word of abandonment didn’t cross my mind when regarding her, she had her own troubles and I was more than willing to be there for her whenever the time comes like I have a few times before.

You’re going to get me in trouble just typing this. I’ll be leaving work in 25 mins so come over anytime afterward. -D

I wrote a quick reply before stuffing the phone back inside my pocket. The flippant language of text messaging was a pet peeve of mine so I couldn’t help but properly spell out each word on the small keys of my iphone. Classy, right? Might take a lot of effort but my hands were small, digits long and nimble – the delicate skeletal structure of my fingers made it easier for me. People had said my hands were beautiful; apparently, endearing to some onlookers whomever had the courage to say anything about them, and just hearing that made them one of my favorite parts of my body. The light shade of brown on my skin must have helped that cause probably, I really don’t know. And the small mole on my left hand in-between my knuckles. Again, I don’t know.

I pushed a wavy stray of hair away from my eye, licking my lips before pushing myself off the counter, moving towards the register to get a clear study around the homey exterior and people in an attempt to be made aware of any unsatisfied customers that escaped my noticed. But the only thing I could make out was the mummer of people chatting amongst themselves, the clinking noises that spoons made when hit against the ceramic coffee cups, soft music playing from the speakers above. Everything was in tune, harmonious even.

And I released a content sigh at the atmosphere.

Then sitting in a chair, I saw a figure – saw a face, one familiar and subtly daunting. Noticing the owner of said face eyes were lock on me, I felt myself being pulled into a state of insensibility. From the distance between us it was hard to describe what color was trapped within his twin orbs, but the distinguishing physical notification that linked to failed encounters in the past as I worked here was the swept-back hairstyle of his frizzy blonde curls and high cheekbones. My breathing immediately became shallow, the environment collapsed in my side view vision, a blur of colors as everything grew still for but a moment.

 He was a stunning individual as far as physical attractiveness goes.

 It was hard to illustrate in words about how his features were arranged in a moment of awe as I stared back, lacking the ability to remove my gaze or body from his view – I couldn’t have been the only one with failed body limbs because it seemed he himself was frozen in this silent exchange we involuntarily made. I didn’t know what this exchange meant though or if it mattered to him. But his stare was startling; however, bold. I was beginning to think this was a staring contest. If we broke from one another time would resume forward. This was my first time actually getting a good look at him; I was no stranger to this man.

 There were rare times when I would enter the café for work and saw him there in that same seat. I never paid mind to him though because I was busy, eventually, his image escaping my mind because he was unimportant in my eyes. Pretty faces such as him usually wore a mask that shielded themselves from people, to put up a façade, and until that mask was revealed those dirty secrets overflowed like a never-ending waterfall. I know because I experienced people like that. But now… as I looked at him full on, really paid mind, something glittered in his expression, in his eyes.

Ding!

 A loud bell rang in my ears; distorting the stupor I was in and restoring the time lapse back to normal as my eyes snapped to the door, breaking eye contact to see some potential customers walking inside. The moment I turned away I realized my cheeks felt considerably warm and the pace of my heart rushed blood through my veins at a rapid rate; I can feel the hard thump flowing in my ears and neck. My fingers fidgets as it carelessly went to palm my low messy bun. And for some stupid reason, I glanced back to the man to find he has also turned away, his eyes averted as they gazed down at his cup and tongue poked out as he licked his lips, a smile that insinuated one born of shyness proceeding to unfurl upon them.

 Even from this distance, I noticed a scarlet blush sneaking up his neck, painting his cheeks and ears in the process, his embarrassment clearly made evident at getting caught staring in my direction. Wait… He was blushing?

 As much as the sight surprised me, about the thought of the handsome stranger going red-faced because of me, I barely had time to mull over the whole occurrence for I had to build my focus back up for the sake of the line of people walking up to the register. So, I put on a smile for the first customer as my workmates shuffled around, one of them settling on the second cash register beside me for another customer. But it was almost difficult to find my voice because my stomach ached from the fluttering of butterfly wings.