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I MADE IT ONE FULLday without slinking back to Hallowed be thy Bean like some kind of loser with no life. But by my second day off in a row, I decided to just embrace my loser-dom and go visit. I took extra care getting ready, patting some plum-coloured pigment I’d bought yesterday onto my lips and styling my hair loose and wavy around my shoulders. I dressed in my black skirt again, pairing it with my little black ankle boots and a tight red sweater that I knew looked great on me. If X was going to see me without my apron, I wanted to look good. Really good.
OK, you are definitely a loser. All I was going to do was go get a doucefeuille pastry and a drink and say a quick hello to X, and I was acting like I was going to some modelling casting call. X would probably be too busy to talk much, and the guy didn’t talk a whole lot even when he wasn’t busy, anyway. So I was probably going to be there for a grand total of about five minutes. But even knowing that, my heart still thrummed with nervous excitement as I stepped out the door, taking a hover-vator to level 1200.
There was a bit of a line outside Hallowed be thy Bean, more then there usually was when I was there. I couldn’t help but feel a small flare of pride at that – knowing that me being at the shop was actually speeding things up and making things easier for X.
I waited patiently in line. OK, who was I kidding. I was impatient as all get out. I was practically tapping my foot, wiggling anxiously as I awaited my turn. But soon enough, I was at the front. X turned from the espresso machine to the window, his heavy grey brow raising slightly in surprise at the sight of me.
“Isn’t it your day off?” X asked, leaning his massive forearms on the window and leaning out slightly. My heart slammed as his head bent close to mine, my cheeks flooding with heat.
“Well, you know, I just couldn’t go another day without more of your riveting conversation,” I said with a laugh. I flushed even harder, knowing that, even though I’d said it in a teasing way, it was still kind of true. I had come back because I wanted to see him.
He didn’t answer, his yellow eyes hard on me, his dark pupils flaring. I broke eye contact, looking around him at the shelf that held all the pastries.
“You came for my conversation, or for the desserts?” X asked wryly, and I laughed again.
“Both. I actually wanted one of the doucefeuilles, but I don’t see any. Are we out?”
He looked a little surprised again, but recovered quickly.
“We’re sold out. I didn’t realize you liked them so much.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“You’re telling me the ultra hardcore chimera soldier hasn’t noticed me stuffing my face with them any chance I could get?”
X snorted, leaning further forward. His snout was so close, now. One slight movement on either of our parts would have it bumping against my mouth.
“Unlike some people I could mention,” X rumbled, “I don’t tend to spy on my colleagues. Believe it or not, I don’t keep tabs on what desserts you eat on your breaks.”
That was probably a good thing, considering I probably looked less than elegant while eating them.
“Well, I guess I’ll settle for a Danish,” I said with a dramatic sigh.
“And a cappuccino?” he asked, referencing the drink I usually guzzled during my shifts.
“Yes please. Hey, how’d you know that? What happened to all that stuff about not keeping tabs?”
X turned, bending, his back muscles bulging, to retrieve my pastry and pop it in a bag. He handed it to me before turning to the espresso machine. Keeping his eyes on his work, he replied, “I said I don’t keep tabs on the desserts you eat. But when I’m the one making your drinks it’s kind of hard not to notice.”
“Fair,” I said, chomping into the pastry. I moaned as the sugar hit my tongue. At the sound, X seemed to tense, his muscles drawing tight. His chest swelled then lowered with a huffing sigh.
Weird...
“Here’s your drink,” he said gruffly, passing me the cup. “Careful -”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted after swallowing my bite of dessert. “It’s hot?”
“Quick learner,” he joked, his snout pulling slightly in his alien version of a smile. I tapped my tablet to pay, then reluctantly pulled away from the counter.
“See you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here,” he said with a nod of his huge head. Those words filled me with ooey gooey warmth, and, smiling like a total idiot, I started walking away. I realized as I did so that I hadn’t grabbed a lid for my cup. I looked down at its surface, taking a small, sharp breath in when I saw that, instead of the usual leaf X often put in my drinks, he’d put a big, beautiful, foamy heart.
It probably doesn’t mean anything...
But as I kept on walking, scared to take a single sip in case I ruined the image, I couldn’t help but think, but what if it did?
