Jily Oneshots (pt2)

Foam Hearts

by Sleepinghookah

Hair: Gentle burgundy curls that fall to her shoulders with some damage from when she was in middle school and thought she had to flat iron it twice a day.

Growing up, money had always been tight in the Evans household so by the time she is twenty, Lily has worked no fewer than twelve different jobs. There was the paper route, the nanny gig for the bratty triplets, enough waitressing so that she would never again be able to enjoy going out to dinner. Most horrifically was her three months at the butcher shop, where she slogged through mountains of innards every day and came home smelling so rancid that Petunia would refuse to let her in the house until she housed off on the front lawn.

All things considered, her new job at the coffee shop isn't that bad.

Lily finds she rather likes preparing the coffee, taking her time with the measurements to produce the perfect espresso. She is a veritable champion of foam art. None of her coworkers can create shapes – hearts, lightning bolts, leaves – in the foam quite like Lily can. She'll take the mickey out of anyone who tried to claim that she is an artist. Even the title barista seems too pretentious. Like, it's just a minimum wage gig, and if she is such an artist, shouldn't they let her choose her hours? But a little part of her that she'll never admit to glows at the praise all the same.

The real trouble with her job is that she has to talk to the customers. They, the masses of poor taste, would rather have their coffee a minute sooner than appreciate the mastery that she spends in prepping their drinks.

And, God, nothing brings out the pretentious assholes quite like a neighborhood coffee shop.

Everyone is the next Jack Kerouac. Everyone is a prodigy seconds away from being discovered. It is almost impossible to tell all her customers apart in the sea of scarves and carefully distressed skinny jeans.

Lily would be quite content to just silently judge her clientele except the shop's policy is that their employees have to be friendly. That's what is supposed to separate them from the big coffee chains and the corporate sellouts. Their customers aren't just buying a cappuccino, they were buying the right to feel special.

The first time he comes in, Lily only takes notice because he's dressed for a day of bumming around in your apartment or helping a mate move houses. His gym shorts are loose and a garish red and his sweatshirt has holes in it that don't look like they've been artfully ripped presale.

Others take notice too. He's pretty good looking in way that makes you want to take a second look because you're not quite sure he actually is. Then a third because wow he's really fit. Then a fourth because you've changed your mind and you're not sure again.

He'd look better with trousers on, Lily decides immediately. This boy is far too skinny – calves narrow sticks of bone and skin – to be boldly wearing shorts about in public, but the rest of him is alright. And there's something beautiful about his mouth. Since mouths aren't something Lily normally notices when she meets a person, she knows that means his mouth isn't just good, it's exceptional.

When he orders, he barely gives her a glance, eyes sliding right over her face as he looks up at the list of specials hanging above her head. And she's the biggest hypocrite in the world because it irritates her. How many times has she complained to Marlene about all the men who come into the shop and size her up like she's on the menu? Too many to count, that's for sure. Yet, here she is, lowkey bothered because this knobby-kneed stranger isn't.

She knows she's pretty. Lily's gotten enough offers from skeazy modeling agents over the years to know that. Him taking a second look would just be common politeness.