Chapter Text
"Holá. Welcome to Quesadilla Coffee. What can I get for you?" This was the phrase Mariana had repeated over and over again for the past two years without fail.
A tight bun, beige-yellow apron, and notepad and a pen tucked behind her ear—every Monday-through-Friday, it was the exact same. Mariana got there fifteen minutes early and ordered an espresso to get herself started, then clocked in to work at 9:00. The routine never changed.
Mariana would've gotten sick of the monotony already if it wasn't for her frequent regular customers. The tall guy with the golden swept hair and pretty green eyes who Mari flirted with sometimes called Foolish, her cappuccino-chugging roommate Roier, and all the gossipers who would sit at the tables near the counter that Mariana would listen to and chuckle to herself while pumping whipped cream. Mariana didn't particularly enjoy being a barista, but her customers certainly made it more bearable.
But that was about to... change. And throw her work balance very off-kilter.
It was 9:56 and Mariana was bickering with Roier at the counter as she wiped up the drink he spilled. It was a full house that day and there were barely any chairs left for the stream of customers that waded in and out of the café, so the inconvenience was mild but enough for Mariana to poke fun at her friend.
"I should ban you from this café, idiotá," Mariana said again for the third time as she rung out the wet coffee rag into the sink, and Roier made an indignant noise.
"It was an accident, hermano, I'm telling you!" he protested, waving his hands. Mariana only tutted and shook her head dismally, prompting Roier to grumble to himself and roll his eyes fondly.
This was when the glass door opened for the 89th time that day, and the newest customer walked into Quesadilla Coffee. He didn't look particularly special, and Mariana hadn't even noticed him yet, and neither had the man noticed her, but he was about to unintentionally change their lives with a single order.
"You should offer to help next time," Mariana mock-complained, and Roier groaned.
"I can't win! Fine, I'll make enchiladas tonight.”
"Hm. Es un trato." She waved the now-damp rag in his direction. "Now go sit down before you— I... um." Mariana cut herself off as she turned away from Roier and towards the new customer approaching the counter, because it felt like all words suddenly died in her throat.
She swallowed them down like a dead rat. Crap.
Roier turned around too, but he didn't seem half as dumbstruck as Mariana felt.
The new customer was a rather short man, maybe a full foot below Mariana herself, and his skin was light and freckled, dusted around his elbows and around the smile marks on his cheeks. His hair was light-brown and perched on his nose was a pair of blue-rimmed glasses, just in front of vibrant green eyes that were now skimming the menu behind Mariana.
Jesuchristo, Mariana must have a thing for green-eyed guys.
And from the way Roier's brown eyes flicked quickly between the customer and Mariana's blanched expression, he knew it too. Slowly, his expression morphed into recognition, and his eyebrows were shooting up with the smile that was breaking across his stupid-looking petty face.
"Ooh," Roier crooned, leaning counter to Mariana. He covered his mouth to try to hide the knowing laughter he was holding back. He was not doing a very good job of it. Mariana remained her unimpressed glare at her roommate and pushed him away with a slap of the wet rag onto his hoodie sleeve. "Hey!" Roier complained.
At the other end of the counter, the customer hadn't seemed to notice their antics. He was rapping his fingers against the granite top as he continued reading the menu, humming to himself with a pleasant sunny smile. It prettily matched the soft orange light of the morning that hit the side of his face through the canvas windows, like a piece of art Mariana would find in a museum, and...
Crap. Mariana couldn't move her legs.
In all of her two years of working at Quesadilla Coffee, this was the one time Mariana could not go up to someone and say "Holá, what can I get for you?" Because what Mariana wanted him to get was her number, and that was insane because they hadn't even spoken a single word to each other. Speaking of single, he might not be.
With all of these things in mind, it was probably a bad idea for Mariana to try anything at all. But the pretty customer was still a customer, and Mariana was still the barista on shift, so she was contractually obligated to talk to this man and take his order.
Mariana wasn't sure whether to feel grateful or spiteful that she was getting paid for this.
With a small breath in, Mariana smoothed out her apron and prepared herself. Then she took a step. And then another. And then she was halfway across the bar, and suddenly right in front of the customer. His green eyes lit up when he noticed her, and he smiled, opening his mouth to say something.
Mariana was absolutely done for.
"¡Tienes esto, wey!" Roier called as he slipped away from the counter with a wave. From the blank glance the pretty customer gave him, he didn't understand what Roier said.
"¡Cállate, molestia!" Mariana yelled back, fidgeting with her rings as the customer laughed and turned back to her. He had such a nice laugh, much nicer than Foolish's. Mariana felt a bit ill.
"He seems like a fun time," the customer joked, tacking on another sideways glance at Roier where he was now sitting at one of the window tables. Roier threw a hand up and waved, grinning.
Mariana flipped him off. "I only keep him around for the enchiladas. He has his virtues; he kills the cucarachas." The customer laughed again at this, and Mariana smiled softly to herself.
Now across from him, Mariana was able to properly check the customer out. She had learned from past experiences that it was the small details that gave away quite a bit about a person's personality-like how the customer had nails painted black the same way she did, or how he wore an unassuming short-sleeve T-shirt despite the cold autumn weather.
Really, the poor man would look like a completely average guy to a bystander. Mariana really wasn't sure what was going on with her right now. The dude had said one sentence.
Concéntrate en el partido, flashed a reminder in her mind, and Mariana braced her hands against the counter. "Anyway, what can I get you?" She might as well start with that.
The man smiled smoothly. "I'd like a pumpkin spice, and... Actually, I was wondering if you had any small-town specialties I should try? I'm not from around here so I thought I might try something new."
Small-town... specialties? There wasn't anything particularly special that their town made, now that she thought about it. Tentatively, Mariana pointed to the back door. "I—I might have some of our banana shortbread in the back. People say it's really good." She blinked.
"Yeah, that sounds great!" The customer fiddled with the neck of his shirt. "Sorry if that was a weird ask or something."
Mariana was practically already gone. "No-of-course-not!" she managed to roll into one breath before the door closed behind her.
Now in the supply closet, Mariana could breathe again. She allowed herself to slump against the wall for a moment before kicking away to find the last boxes of shortbread squirreled away from the summer.
The pretty customer was not from here. This was a troubling thing, because if he did not live here, there was a rapidly-approaching outcome that would include him never coming back to the café. And Mariana did not want that.
Mariana, in fact, wanted to talk to the pretty customer more. She had met a lot of good-looking people working at the café, including Foolish who seemed equally as confused at Mariana's subtle flirty remarks as he was tall and sweet—very. But this person was not Foolish.
The one thing she believed they had in common, though... was the eyes.
Foolish said his eyes were the first thing anyone noticed about him. It was true; they were striking, flecked with lighter shades of gold like gems themselves. It was one of the many things on the list of things Mariana liked about him.
But then there was this person’s eyes. They were different. They stuck out just the same, but in a different way. Mariana could compare them to the freshest of leaves turning green in the spring, dark and soft around the edges to frame the vibrancy in between.
Hold on. Mariana had met this person five minutes ago. How long had she been observing his eyes? That was really creepy. Mariana didn't even realize she was doing that. But he hadn't said anything about it, if he had even noticed it.
Mariana also realized she hadn't asked for a name for the order.
Mariana shifted one cake box onto another, finally hauling the white box marked "Shortbread" off of the shelf and proceeded to bang her forehead on the wall beside her.
She leaned there for a moment.
Then she pulled away, rushing back into the café.
The pretty customer was there waiting for her, staring out the window at the browned leaves before turning to smile at Mariana with that stupidly beautiful expectant look.
"Holá, sorry I took a while," Mariana managed, pushing the box onto the counter and briskly pulling a paper plate off of the press.
"That's okay! Thanks for going through all the trouble for me."
"Trust me, it's nothing." Mariana paused to look at him over her glasses, flashing him a stretched smile. Looking almost surprised, he smiled back.
Oh good. It worked.
Mariana sliced a piece of shortbread and pulled it out with gloved hands, slapping it on the floppy paper plate. The customer had reached over to take it, but Mariana slid it in the other direction. "Not yet," she said, and spun around to grab an empty plastic cup.
The customer raised an eyebrow at her as she headed to the creamer, and Mariana only laughed.
Mariana made him a pumpkin spice latte. Sure, this wasn't a Starbucks, but she had learned how to make one last year specifically for the next fall, and she felt it might be a good time to see if she still had it down pat.
When she had finished the cup, she slid the plate and the drink over to him, leaning away when the customer handed her a wad of cash held together by a strip of paper traded, for the cup in one hand and the plate in his other.
"Thanks," was all he said through a grin, and Mariana felt something inside her sink because their conversation was about to be over. In fact, the customer was basically already walking away, and that might be the last of it.
And all Mariana had left to show for it was a wad of crinkled five-dollar bills in her left hand. Might as well. He was a stranger, in the end, and Mariana was just flustered.
“You're welcome," Mariana said, and that was that. The customer went and sat down at an empty window seat.
With a small begrudged sigh, Mariana unwrapped the money from the paper and stuffed it in the cash register. She couldn't be bothered to neaten it or whatever she was supposed to do with the literal living ray of sunshine's money.
But when she glanced down at the small strip of paper left over to throw it away, she noticed small black print on the inside of it. Curious, she unfurled it and flattened it out with her thumb.
"You can keep the extra ten dollars as a tip :) Also, I noticed you didn't ask for my name for the order, so it's Charlie. (I might have dropped a plastic cucaracha on your friend's table while you were in the back)"
Mariana smiled. She looked up, and surely enough, Roier was slumped in his seat with his arms crossed and his hoodie strings taut to frame his face, which was his favorite pouting position.
Mariana glanced across the café to where Charlie sat, his chin cupped in his palm as he sipped his drink and stared at the red-orange leaves.
Mariana sincerely hoped Charlie would come back to the café.
It was 12:30, after her shift, and Mariana crashed in her apartment like an asteroid to the earth-heavily, destroying half a population.
She groaned into the couch cushions.
"Amigo, supérate," remarked Roier from the doorway as he flung his unlaced shoes across the room and stepped inside. "No te había visto así desde que tus padres te echaron."
"Ese fue el turno más difícil que tuve que afrontar desde que comencé a trabajar alli," Mariana complained into the fabric.
"¿Estás hablando del chiquito lindo que conociste o de la hora pico?"
Mariana threw a pillow at him. "Aye!" Roier complained, shielding from it with his arms.
Mariana sustained her glare at him, turning up her nose. "Charlie era una persona muy agradable."
Roier raised his arms in mock-surrender. "¡Nunca dije que no lo fuera!" he defended. He shifted his weight on his legs, fingertips grazing his chin thoughtfully. "Entonces su nombre es Charlie, ¿eh? Tendré que agradecerle si nos volvemos a encontrar."
Mariana raised an eyebrow. "¿Qué? ¿Por qué?"
Roier's face lit up like a thousand lights, and Mariana would've thought he was the one who had fallen for a stranger. He fished out a small object from his hoodie pocket and held it up for Mariana to see. "¡Me dio José!' If Mariana squinted, she could make out the six tiny legs of a plastic co*ckroach.
And... And Mariana laughed at that.
"¿Cogiste la cucaracha? ¿Dijo que podías quedártelo?" Mariana asked through laughs, hiding her mouth with her wrist.
Slowly, Roier shrugged, his expression embittering like he hadn't thought of that before taking it. "Bueno... Era un juego gratuito ya que me asustó con él."
Mariana shook her head, still grinning. "No puedo creer que haya hecho eso," she said, more or less to the air than to Roier. Charlie didn't have to put so much effort into butting into their bickering, enough to remember Mariana's casual remark about Roier killing the co*ckroaches at the very beginning of their conversation just to mess with them.
Charlie was sweet. He was thoughtful. He... gave Mariana his name, even though he didn't technically have to since he had already given her his order.
Huh.
"De todos modos," Roier remarked, headed over to their kitchen. "¿cuándo es la boda?"
Startled, "¿¡Qué?!"
"Estás más perdido que con Foolish. ¿Cuándo es la boda? ¿Cómo vas a intentar hablar con él otra vez?" Roier cracked open the fridge, rooting around for his salsa dip.
...He had a point. Mariana wasn't sure. "Mi plan era simplemente... esperar y ver si aparecía en el café otra vez." She pulled herself up onto the couch and let her hands fall limp in her lap.
Roier threw his head over his shoulder. "i¿Qué?!" He quickly rushed his corn chips and salsa to the couch. "No, no, Mariana, debes pensar en algo más confiable que eso. ¡Mira, mira aqui!” Roier pulled out his phone and began swiping through apps. "Le preguntaré a algunos de mis amigos bilingües para ver si lo conocen. Dijo que estaba visitando a alguien, ¿verdad?"
Mariana frowned. "No tienes que pasar por todos esos problemas—”
"Cállate, te conseguiré un novio," Roier deadpanned, not even looking up. Mariana flushed and swatted his shoulder.
"Probablemente ni siquiera le agradaría de esa manera."
"Nunca lo sabes hasta que lo intentas. ¿Desde cuándo eres de los que dudan de ti mismo, Mari, wey?" He smiled slightly at Mariana from over his phone. "Déjame ayudarte, hermano."
Well... how could Mariana say no to that? Besides... it did sound kind of fun.
"¿Qué hacemos si alguien lo conoce?" she asked, scooting over to peer over Roier's shoulder as he dipped a chip into the salsa and shoved it into his mouth.
"Los chantajeamos para que tengan una presentación informal," Roier said, scrolling through contacts with his thumb as he loudly chewed corn chips.
Mariana snorted. "Hermano, no estamos haciendo eso."
Roier jabbed her in the side. "¡Eres la enamorada aquí! Se supone que estás dispuesta a hacer cualquier cosa."
Mariana wrinkled up her nose. "¿Quién dijo algo sobre el amor?" she mumbled. "Casi no conozco al tipo. Es un flechazo como mucho."
Roier melodramatically rolled his eyes over to her. "Lo dice la que está sentada en el sofá con las piernas cruzadas como una colegiala y corazones en los ojos." Mariana hit Roier with a pillow again, and this time he laughed instead.
Roier texted a few of his English-speaking friends, but most reported that they'd never heard of Charlie. One said they knew several Charlies, and mentioned it might have been easier if they knew his last name. Mariana thought that would certainly have been convenient, and only led to more searching and text messages to the point Mariana ended up upside-down with her head hanging off the couch out of sheer boredom.
Roier did not cook the promised enchiladas.
Sometimes when she forgot why they were doing this in the first place, she'd think of the strangely warm, twisted feeling in her gut she got when she looked at Charlie, or the picturesque glow of light from the windows that framed his face perfectly.
That's what she was doing this for. Because she hadn't ever felt like that before, and she needed to know why Charlie did that to her. What did he have that Foolish did not?
It was 2:35 when Roier shouted, "iLo tengo!" He beamed down at his phone.
Kicking out her legs, Mariana straightened into a proper position. "¿Qué es?" Her heart beat unsteadily in her chest.
"¿Recuerdas a Quackity de la escuela secundaria?" Mariana nodded fervently. "Al parecer conoce a Charlie desde que eran pequeños. ¡Y coincide con su descripción!" Mariana wasn't sure what to say now—she only sat there with her mouth slightly agape—but luckily Roier could talk for two people. "Dice que sus amigos lo llaman Slime, es soltero, hace gimnasia y le encanta el karaoke. ¡Visitará aquí a su amiga Baghera durante dos meses!"
He elbowed her side, grinning with the force of a million suns. "¡Tú, amigo mío, tienes una oportunidad!"
It was all too perfect.
Far too perfect. Mariana had a mutual-friend connection with Charlie, and he was here in their tiny little town for two months. It was entirely probable that they would bump into each other again at some point, whether at Quesadilla Coffee or on the street.
Mariana did at least have a chance.
Mariana extended her hand. "Dame el telefono."
Roier gasped as if he was offended, furrowing his brow. "¿Por qué?"
"Quiero hablar con Quackity.” Mariana stared at him gravely. She jerked her hand forward.
Roier paused, then sighed, rolling his eyes and dropping the phone in Mariana's hand. Mariana took it and pulled up the keyboard.
TÚ:
Hola Q, ella es Mariana
ALEXIS QUACKITY:
Ey mariana. Ha sido un tiempo. Entonces te gusta Slime, ¿eh?
TÚ:
No hay necesidad de engreírse al respecto,, me preguntaba si había alguna forma específica en la que pudiera tener la oportunidad de hablar con él nuevamente
ALEXIS QUACKITY:
sí puedo configurarte
Pero te costará.
TÚ:
Cuanto
ALEXIS QUACKITY:
100 dólares
también roier tiene que traerme enchiladas para una semana
TÚ:
Eres un hombre enfermo
ALEXIS QUACKITY:
Soy consciente
¿No crees que el slime merece la pena? 👀
Mariana sighed.
TÚ:
¿Venmo o PayPal?
