Second Chances

Noah

It had been a busy Tuesday morning at the chic coffee shop where I worked. The lunch crowd was just starting to slow down as we were getting past one o'clock in the afternoon. I had been making coffee drinks all morning, except for the occasional cup of tea. My coworker, Ava, was working with me. She usually made the sandwiches and salads we sold. Most of them were made early in the morning and stacked in the refrigerated display case on the outer side of the stainless steel countertop, before the lunch rush, but we took orders as well if the pre-made inventory was running low. I was due for a break but Ava had just gotten a salad order so I stayed to take the next customer.      

"What can I get you?" I asked the next guest without looking up, not because I was being rude, but because I was trying to be efficient by multitasking. I continued to clean out the tumbler I had used to mix the last cafe mocha while I waited for the order.

"Eh," the dark deep voice started and it was all it took for my stomach to clench in response. "A small dark coffee, please" he finished.

My hands loosened the grip around the tumbler and I almost dropped it into the sink. I knew that voice. It had been years since I heard it and I had tried my hardest to forget all about him, but I knew the person behind it without even having to look up.

Damn it. Why did he have the power to make my breathing catch and my chest tighten after all this time?

"For here or to go?" I asked. My voice hitched and I was afraid to meet his eyes. I kept them stubbornly focused on the half wall in front of me that was full of all the kinds of items a successful coffee shop needed.

"For here."

I put the tumbler down to dry and grabbed one of the porcelain coffee cups instead of the usual paper ones we used when the customers wanted their beverages to go.

"Anything else?"

"No." Noah's voice was deeper than I remembered but still just as confident.

"Coming right up," I responded in a slightly shaky tone.

Ava's eyebrows rose up above her quirky glasses when I made no attempt to ring up the purchase. She must have realized something was up because she moved over to the register without a word and entered the order for me.

"That's $3.25," she told Noah.

I refused to look up or meet his gaze even though I knew it was childish, and not very customer friendly. I also knew what I'd find if I did look up. A tall male with an athletic build and unruly, dark blond, curly hair. A face chiseled to perfection with scorching brown eyes and full lips. I knew Noah Blackwell was on the other side of that counter just like I knew my own heart was beating abnormally fast.

It had been years since I last heard his voice but I would be able to identify it in any situation and at any time. I just didn't want to.

This was the same guy that broke my heart five years ago. No, that's not true. He didn't just break it. He crushed it and shattered it until there were only pieces left. It took me months of therapy to get myself out of the depression that followed.

My heart was pounding in my chest. Even after all this time, his mere presence made my whole body go weak and stupid. I hated it. I didn't want to look up at him or be anywhere near him. Least of all make him a cup of coffee like I was catering to his needs and wants.

I felt both Noah's and Ava's eyes on me as I moved over to the coffee machine. I must've made some kind of involuntary sound or mumbled under my breath. That happened sometimes, especially when I was stressed. But I continued to stubbornly keep my eyes away from Noah and focused on the black liquid swirling around in the coffee carafe as I began to pour it into the cup. I took a deep breath and tried to make my heart rate return to normal.