Chapter 8 Elevations #2
Then, I hung up before she could respond.
?
I’ve developed a bit of a system. I drink for my nerves and coffee for a pick-me-up.
I kept a cute little black flask in my purse in case of emergencies. Nothing crazy, just one little swig to keep me going during the day, and after that frustrating call with my mother, I needed a break.
So I decided to complete my routine and went to get a coffee.
I was in between appointments and needed a quick fix, so I visited a local favorite. This café had become an essential ritual—my quiet time, one of those little pleasures that helped ground me from the chaos of running a business.
I approached the counter, already knowing my order, as they should, too: a mocha latte with oat milk and a buttered croissant. The place wasn’t too busy, but it still had a slight line. At least it was quiet today, some days I could hear the people before I walked in.
“Good morning, Ellie!” Lizzie, the owner, greeted me. “The usual?”
“Yep,” I replied, returning the smile. “Are the croissants fresh?”
She laughed like she knew I’d ask. “I put them in the display ten minutes ago.”
Yes.
“In that case gimme two. I don’t wanna share with Esther.”
She grinned with a quick nod before turning to the espresso machine.
As I waited for my coffee, I found ways to be distracted. I scanned the headlines on my phone, checked emails, and mentally listed everything I needed to complete for the day.
“Mocha latte for Elliot!” one of the baristas called out. Finally.
Creamy chocolatey goodness to help drill some life back into my body. I could almost taste the sugar, but before I could even react, a hand snatched the cup from the counter.
“Hey, I think that’s—”
I looked up, catching a glimpse of the culprit just as he brought the cup to his lips. He didn’t even check the name before he tasted it.
“Mine,” I finished, watching in mild disbelief. Great.
He blinked, lowering the cup slightly so our eyes met.
He was handsome at least—tall, fit, with smooth mahogany skin.
Maybe a little older than me, early thirties at most. His dark hair was groomed neatly in waves, his beard clean-cut, and his eyes…
an odd shade of blue-green. Like an ocean—inviting and unpredictable.
The man gawked at me like I was the first human he’d seen in months. I waited for a response as he struggled to form words, or excuses. A flush of embarrassment crept up his face as he glanced down at the cup and finally managed to force out:
“No, this one’s mine,” he insisted, though his confidence wavered.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Mocha latte with oat milk for Elliot?” I read from my receipt.
His brows furrowed before he examined the drink again and muttered, “Shit.”
Holding up the cup, he sighed. “You’re right. This is yours. Mine was almond milk.”
I exhaled, already feeling my rhythm thrown off.
“I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot,” he rushed out.
“It’s fine,” I reassured him, waving him off.
He hesitated, still holding my cup even as the barista placed his drink on the counter. “No, seriously, I should’ve checked before I took a sip. My bad. Maybe you can have mine instead?”
I gave him a pointed look.
“I’m allergic to tree nuts,” I said, nodding toward his almond milk-contaminated coffee.
His handsome face went pale. It was cute that he was so flustered. He made it seem like the world was about to end because I hadn’t gotten my coffee, and I liked that.
“Damn it,” he said quickly. “Let me pay for a new one, for real.”
“I’ll make a new one, Ellie.” Lizzie offered, coming over after hearing the commotion.
“No thanks, I don’t have time to wait.” I grabbed my croissants, waved them off, and turned to leave. “It’s fine. Really. I’m good.”
I had a client in the next thirty minutes, and I hadn’t even prepped the extensions yet. I just hoped the croissant would fuel me enough for the rest of the day now that coffee was no longer an option. But as I approached the door, I heard hurried footsteps behind me.
“Wait,” he called. I stopped, turning to see him holding both cups now.
“Your name’s Elliot, right?” he asked, his gaze scattering all over my body. He didn’t even try to hide his interest.
I nodded, hesitant. “Yup. That’s me. I’m guessing you’re an Elliot, too?”
He grinned like the idea amused him. “Yeah. I’m an Elliot, too. You’re the first woman I’ve ever met with the same name as me.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “No wonder you got the coffee mixed up, huh?”
Elliot glanced down at the cups, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Yeah, well, I should’ve looked before I sipped. My bad.”
I shrugged before trying to leave again. “Like I said. No big deal.”
“Wait, let me make this right. Please?”
I looked back and tilted my head slightly, meeting his gaze.
He looked at me like he was studying art, unsure and still interested.
I didn’t get why; there was nothing interesting about the messy-haired, unwaxed, and hair-spray-covered woman in front of him.
But yet he still looked, and it made me feel… good.
There was something about him—something that made me feel like…I don’t know yet. But I wasn’t ready for whatever this was. Not with everything else going on in my life.
“No, thank you,” I said softly, then walked out of the cafe before he could protest.