Torn Jeans and Converse Shoes

No Sugar or Cream

|James|
|Monday, 7:02 am|

I poured my fifth cup of coffee in the old lady's cup. Will she ever leave? I wondered, this woman had been here since I started, 5:00. The bell dinged over the door. I didn't move or look, someone else could help this old person. Whatever. The woman in front of me grunted and I stopped pouring sugar. At least it's business.... She stood and made her way to the checkout. I swept up the dishes and pushed into the kitchen area. My best friend was there doing the early morning dishes.
"Hey, James! Did Grumps leave?" I smiled at the blonde boy in front of me. I dumped the coffee cups into the soapy water.
"Yep. Finally."
"Got time to talk?" I smiled at the bright blue eyes.
"Nope, sorry Petey. Someone walked in and I have to make sure that no one's serving them yet. See ya soon!" I turned and waved over my shoulder. Pete waved back. I walked into the café's eating area. I looked around the mostly empty room. One old lady was sitting in a booth, she was reading a newspaper, a cup of hot coffee in her hand. Not her. The other person was on the other side of the café, and--oh my God. A girl sat there, curly black hair tumbling down her back. Bright lilac eyes looked around at the décor in interest. She wore a black hoodie and torn skinny jeans. I noticed her crossed ankles and red converse shoes. A bright red streak in the black hair peeked out of her mess of curls. I rushed to the table. She smiled at me.
"How can I help you today?" I hurriedly asked. "Any coffee? Tea? Maybe some food?" I saw a glimmer of excitement glimmer in her eyes.
"Coffee please. And a muffin, chocolate please." I wrote that down and rushed off to the kitchen again. I grabbed a pot of coffee and a chocolate muffin. A mug was swiped off the shelf and all of it was put on a trey. I went through everything she had ordered. Coffee. Check. Choco muffin. Check. Better put some creamer and sugar. Yep. Ready to go. The muffin was in a parchment bag and the coffee pot was steaming. I walked back to the girl and set down her order.
"Muffin. Chocolate, like you asked. Here's your cup for the coffee. And here's the cream and sugar." She looked at me.
"Oh, no. Please no cream or sugar."
"Milk?"
"No thank you. I'm good, but thanks anyways." She smiled and gently pushed my hand with all the creamers into a fist. No cream or sugar. That's a first! We've had no cream, or no sugar. But never both. I liked this girl. "Um, ok. Call me if you need anything." She nodded and I left her to her muffin. Pete met me at the door.
"Saw the girl. Nice looking, doncha think?" He teased. I blushed and smiled.
"Just doing my job." I said. We chatted about random things until I saw Black Curls stand up and walk to the cashier. I went to her table and picked up the leftover mug and trash. I threw away the trash and delivered the dirty mug to Peter. She was gone by the time I exited.

For the past three days she kept coming back at the same time, 7:05. Every time she ordered the same thing, a chocolate muffin and coffee, no cream or sugar. She left at the same time too, 7:35. Today I wanted to learn more about her, at least her name. Since today was my day off, I went to the café as a customer. I ordered a Mocha Frappé and a chocolate muffin. I sat at a booth and sipped the drink while keeping my eyes on the clock.
7:00
7:01
7:02
7:03
7:04
7:05.... *ding!* I turned to see the beautiful girl walk in the door. Her hair was done up in a ponytail and she wore the same torn jeans and converse shoes. A dark red flannel shirt accompanied the autumn look, and the recent memory of her lilac eyes glancing around the room made me stare at her even longer. She glanced at me and I noticed a sense of disappointment come from her as my coworker, Thomas, served her. She got a green tea and a blueberry muffin this time, unlike her customary espresso and chocolate muffin. She left a little bit earlier by about five minutes and smiled sadly at me as she left. I wondered how I could talk to her outside of the diner. My hand tapped a rhythm on the table as I thought. My pen slid off the table and onto the floor. I picked it up, an idea already forming my head.