Chapter 6 #2
I pushed open the dark green door and was immediately enveloped in wooden panelling that clung to every vertical surface, with the exception of one bare-bricked wall.
The ceiling’s geometrically sculpted surface meant the light from the many globe-like pendants bounced around the room softly.
Books, plants and other apothecarial-looking items lined the in-built shelves behind the counter, with warm downlights making every timber surface glow like amber.
Combined with the heady scent of freshly ground coffee, the place was pure sensory heaven.
I joined the short queue and surveyed the range of baked goods displayed in a gleaming, inset glass cabinet. My stomach growled in anticipation of being filled – aeroplane food had always made me gag because of the risk of egg, my food nemesis.
‘Hey, what can I get you?’ the barista asked.
‘Hi, can I get a large oat latte and… an almond croissant, please?’
It was hard not to press my face to the polished wood counter and take a sniff after I’d ordered.
‘Oat milk comes as standard. To go?’
I looked around the room: a table next to the window had just become free. I knew it was my temporary destiny.
‘No, I’ll have it… in, please. As in, not to go, to… stay?’
Oh Flora, really?
‘Haha, got it. A large latte and almond croissant “to stay”. I might just have to add that option to our menu. That’ll be ten fifty.’
I tapped my debit card on the contactless reader, silently praying it’d work. It did, although goodness knows how much my bank would charge me for the privilege of the international transaction.
‘Thanks, go grab a seat and I’ll bring it over.’
I smiled at the barista’s kindness and settled into my fated spot. I faced towards the beautiful interior, my back against bare bricks, while the sunlight streaming through the window warmed the right side of my face.
The place was pretty full, with only a couple of free tables that would no doubt soon become occupied given the steady stream of customers.
Some appeared to be Friday morning regulars, their orders appearing as if by magic without them having uttered a word.
But there were plenty of tourists, too, their backpacks and surprise at the oat milk revelation giving them away.
Despite the hubbub, nothing felt rushed.
I put my headphones on after my drink and croissant arrived, and rummaged about in my bag for my laptop. I might as well get an hour or so of work done while I had the chance – and the space.
A draught from the doorway made me glance up after a few minutes.
A guy who looked about my age wandered in, unwrapping a scarf from his neck and waving to the barista, who leaned over the counter and greeted him with a fist bump.
Without ordering anything, the customer – who was obviously a regular – looked around for a spot to sit, before his eyes settled on the only available chair: the one opposite me.
‘Is it okay if I…?’
Or at least that’s what I assumed he’d said, as my headphones were still firmly in place.
I smiled and nodded, shifting my laptop and crockery closer to me to create extra space on the tabletop.
He slipped off his extremely cosy-looking quilted jacket and pulled off his beanie hat to reveal thick, sand-coloured hair that immediately fell over his light green eyes.
He swept his floppy fringe back, using a pair of glasses as a makeshift hairband while he opened his backpack and extracted a laptop and his own set of headphones – which were the same make and model as mine.
With three of his fingertips, he pressed the outer casing of the cushion over his right ear, which I knew meant he’d activated noise-cancelling mode.
I grinned to myself at the immediate insight this swift gesture gave me about this stranger. The very attractive stranger.
I tried to focus on my work but I couldn’t help but notice that the man opposite seemed to be struggling with whatever he was working on.
After a while, he slipped his glasses down over his eyes (well, hello, Jude Law from The Holiday – minus the unseasonal tan), and rested his forehead on the heel of his hand, closing his eyes and shaking his head gently.
I knew that feeling well: the right words weren’t coming to him.
His coffee arrived shortly after and he removed his headphones to thank the barista while stretching, the bottom of his rust-coloured shirt rising slightly to reveal the tiniest glimpse of a solid, toned midriff.
Stop perving, Flora.
I turned up my white noise a smidge and got back to trying to figure out how the CEO of the soapy start-up might be able to talk about financial projections without relying on cringeworthy rhyming couplets.
I was deep in the suds of soap-based puns when a hand touched me on my arm out of nowhere, causing me to physically recoil so intensely that I simultaneously flailed my arms and stood up, forcing my chair to topple to the ground.
My mug of coffee met a similar fate, the dregs of my drink heading directly towards my sticker-covered laptop.
Thankfully, the owner of the hand that had triggered my over-the-top reaction – the cute stranger opposite me – managed to whip my computer out of the way before the liquid reached it.
The entire coffee shop – now completely silent – watched on.
I removed my headphones and opened my mouth to apologise, but the stranger got there first.
‘Woah, I’m so sorry to scare you like that.
’ He grabbed some napkins from the counter and began absorbing the puddle of coffee while I picked up the chair.
‘I know how annoying it is when that happens.’ He was talking quickly.
‘I once had such an intense startle response that I ripped the book I was holding in half.’
I swept off the flakes of croissant that were covering the entire front of my body – the presence of which was unrelated to my embarrassing overreaction – and sat back down.
‘You tore an entire book in half?’
‘Well, it was more of a novella.’
The barista arrived with some paper towels, mopping up the remainder of the spillage and taking all the evidence of the incident away.
‘Hey, Cory, can you make another coffee for…?’
The red-faced but smiling stranger looked towards me, his green eyes wide with a question.
‘Flora.’
‘Another coffee for Flora, please. On me, obviously. I’m Ethan, by the way.’
He looked like an Ethan, even though I’d never met one before, nor imagined what one might look like. But his name just… fitted.
‘I bet you wish you’d never sat here,’ I said, our fellow patrons getting back to their own business now the peak of the drama had passed.
‘Not at all. We all need a bit of adrenalin at the start of the day, right?’
Little did he know I’d already had enough adrenalin pumping through my body in the last twenty-four hours – and in the last six months – to last me a lifetime.
‘We do. Umm, so what was it you wanted?’
‘Huh?’
‘When you… touched my arm. Did you want to tell me something?’
‘Oh yeah, ha. I was going to ask if you could watch my stuff while I took a quick bio break.’
A quick what? Apparently, my confusion had externalised itself.
‘Sorry, you probably don’t say that in the UK. It means I need to use the bathroom. Bio as in… “biological”.’
I snorted involuntarily, clapping my hand over my mouth to mute it.
‘Okay, now you’re making me realise that it’s a very weird thing to say.’
‘I mean, it’s… don’t worry.’
‘Nah, I need to know the truth so I don’t embarrass myself in front of international strangers in the future. Level with me.’
‘Okay. I think “bio break” is probably the most Corporate-America phrase I’ve ever heard. It’s as if an algorithm came up with it, rather than a person.’
The stranger rubbed an eyebrow with the knuckle of his index finger and smirked, red-faceed. ‘It probably was an algorithm, wasn’t it? Oh, man.’
His own blushes made me feel less self-conscious about my own.
‘Anyway, for what it’s worth my answer would have been yes,’ I said.
‘That’s good to know.’
‘So… would you like me to watch your stuff?’
‘Oh yeah! Yes. Yes please. I’ll be right back. Thanks.’
I chuckled quietly to myself as he wandered to the far end of the coffee shop, disappearing behind the end of the counter, where a Progress Pride flag was draped.
A coffee and an extra almond croissant arrived shortly after.
‘Oh, it was just the coffee I think.’
‘Yeah, I know. But the croissant’s on the house.’
‘Thanks, that’s really generous of you.’
‘You can thank Ethan: he does a lot of work for us for free.’
I frowned. ‘As a barista?’
‘Ha, no. He does all our artwork. Here, look.’
Cory pointed at the menu on the window ledge, which featured a range of balloon-like characters seemingly floating in a haze of caffeine-induced bliss. The illustrations were fun, although they looked strangely familiar.
‘Nice, but he doesn’t ask for money?’
‘Nah, he said we could pay him in coffee. And croissants.’ Cory nodded towards my plate and grinned. ‘But even though he comes here most days before work, he never claims enough of them for the amount of work he does for us.’
The bell of the door opening prompted Cory to head back to the counter. I glanced at my phone: it was coming up to eight forty-five, so I assumed Ethan would be heading off to work soon. I also noted there was still no message from Mum or Anneka.
I took a sip of my bonus coffee – without doubt one of the best coffees I’d ever had. Ethan’s discarded headphones lay on the table, and I could just make out the distant, shrunken sounds of familiar music emanating from them.
I couldn’t resist placing my ear closer to deduce what he was listening to. It was a song called This Hush Is New by an indie band called Days Colliding I used to listen to as a teenager.
‘Sorry, was it disturbing you?’ Ethan asked.