Magic in Costa Rica

Coffee and Contemplation

I paused outside of Matthew's classroom, as I had done so many times before, and checked my watch. I was ten minutes early for the first day of school, a personal best for me. I set my alarm early this morning to give myself extra time to get ready so I wouldn't be late. I laughed silently at the memory of being late for my first day of school two years prior. How Matthew had pulled the tough teacher act and yelled at me in front of the class, and how I sassed him about his red, paisley tie. My heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing him again, and my hand immediately flung to the doorknob and pushed the door open. I burst into the classroom, but faltered when I found it empty. Matthew wasn't here yet. I walked over to his desk and smiled when I saw his I'm silently correcting you're grammar mug resting on the corner, half-filled with black coffee. Wait, so did that mean-

"Alma!" I turned around to face Matthew standing in the doorway, seemingly surprised to see me. "You're early, that's new," he smirked slightly.

"Matthew," I smiled, unable to contain my joy upon seeing him. He wore a gray vest and a blue and green polka dotted tie. His hair was messy as ever, and he ran his fingers through it to smooth it down as he walked in. "I like your tie," I grinned.

"Thanks," he said before pausing for a moment, "And you should really call me Mr. Miller." He picked his mug up from his desk and took a long sip.

"Wha- seriously?" I asked. He nodded and sighed as he lowered the mug from his lips.

"Yeah, sorry. But, I am your teacher again."

"I feel like I just got used to calling you Matthew!" I groaned. He laughed.

"I'm sorry! But it would be a little weird if everyone in class called me Mr. Miller except for you, don't you think?" I faltered for a moment.

"Okay, you have a point... Can I still call you Mr. M-oh shit-Matthew?" I joked. He laughed in the middle of taking another sip and spit coffee all over the floor. I burst into a fit of giggles as he struggled to catch his breath.

"My coffee!" he gasped between coughs. I rushed over to grab a bundle of paper towels and handed it to him, still laughing. "Thank you," he whimpered as he began wiping the coffee off the sides of his mug before setting it back on his desk.

"Sorry about that, Ma-Mr. Miller," I said, finally able to contain myself.

"That's alright," he grinned. "It's my fault for taking a sip knowing full-well that you were about to make some smartass comment."

"Hey!" I scoffed and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say sorry not sorry, smartass. "I didn't even know you drank coffee. I guess I pegged you as more of a tea guy."

"Yeah," he shrugged, "I got hooked over the summer."

"Ah, I see. I've never had coffee," I admitted. He looked at me, eyes wide.

"What? Alma, you work at a diner!"

"I know, I know!" I laughed. 'My dad just always said it was bad for you, so I never tried it." Matthew shrugged, staring forlornly into his mug.

"That's probably a good thing. It's just... so good," he smiled, still looking down.

"God, you're starting to sound like an addict! Maybe I shouldn't have gotten you that mug," I teased and he shook his head.

"I am an addict," he said matter-of-factly, before holding his mug up and staring at it longingly. "And this mug is simply the vessel that fuels my addiction..."

"How poetic," I muttered sarcastically.

"I should hope so," he raised his eyebrows, "considering that's our first unit."