Five Weeks at the Coffee Shop
by Lilian
The first time they met, he had short hair and she had the longest ponytail he had ever seen on a girl. Of course,
that was before he met her friends: a heterogeneous group of people where short hair was anything above the shoulder
blades. As it was, when he first set eyes on her, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run his
fingers through those chocolate-colored tresses. He then spent the better part of the next five minutes telling
himself that was a very un-macho thing to think, and thanking the stars Jade was not around to tease him about
it.
She walked into the coffee house and time seemed to stop, because for the life of him Nate couldn’t keep breathing
and sipping his coffee and staring at her in awe all at the same time. It wasn’t as much her looks that drew him
to her—although he had to admit, she had one of the finest bodies he had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon—it
was her laughter. She sat a few tables away from him, chatting with the waitress as if they were long-time friends
(he had later learned they indeed were) and suddenly threw her head back and laughed: a honest-to-God, bells-twinkling,
heart-stopping, breath-taking laughter that made his breath catch in his throat.
He was head-over-heels in love with her since then, but it took him exactly three weeks and five days to muster
up the courage to approach her. It wasn’t that he was shy or that he feared rejection—he was,
after all, the third member the ‘Fucksome Four’, the not-so-honorable title Jade had come up with after they discovered
each of them had their own little fan-club—it wasn’t even that she was seldom alone, four or five girlfriends always
frolicking around her. It was just—how do you do small talk with your most precious dream made flesh? How do you
explain to her you’ve been searching for her your entire life, and that up until you met her, your life had no
meaning at all?
Jade had told him he was being a pussy and that he should stop it with the lovey-dovey crap and just march up to
her and kiss her senseless. He even tried to demonstrate the appropriate way to do so with one of her friends:
he got as far as snaking a hand around the raven-haired beauty’s waist before her elbow came into close contact
with his sternum and a sound slap sent him sprawling across the linoleum floor.
After the laughter died down and Jade picked up the remnants of his shattered pride, Nate caught his Goddess’ eyes
watching him. He watched her right back, curious to see what he would find in her pupils: he was surprised to notice
they were the brightest shade of green he had ever seen. They looked like the eyes of a cat, he had wondered, awe-struck,
so lost in those emerald depths he barely heard Zack taunting Jade and the boisterous bickering that followed.
It took him two days to learn her name.
Makoto. Kino Makoto.
It wasn’t strange that her name meant ‘Sincerity of Wood’. Following her after she left the coffee shop (in a non-stalker
way, of course), had led him to a little shop not five blocks away from the Fruits Parlor Crown. Twenty minutes
after going in, Nate had watched her come out a flowerpot heavier and a twinkle in her eye that hadn’t been there
before. Research, courtesy of Zoisite and his ‘Honestly,
Nate, couldn’t you do this yourself?’, had
later confirmed the flower held so tenderly between her hands had been canna bulbs and he had taken a habit of
growing them in his backyard ever since. He could say without a doubt, though, that the flowers winking at him
from the far corner of his garden would never be as beautiful as the ones growing under her
care.
He could tell just by watching her: she could make things grow. He saw it almost every day, in the way she treated
one of her quieter friends. A blue-haired girl that seldom spoke unless spoken to, blossomed like a flower under
the sun whenever Makoto addressed her. She had that ability, his Mako-chan, to bring out the best in people without
even meaning to.
On day eight he exchanged his first word with her.
“Sorry”, she had said, after one particularly nasty argument between two of her friends had drawn his—and most
of the shop’s costumers—attention to the table by the window; it hadn’t really mattered because he had been watching
her anyway, but his heart skipped a beat when she said it because she said it directly to him. Granted, the shop’s
owner was standing right beside him at that point, so Makoto could’ve been very well talking to the tall, blonde-haired
guy, but Nate liked to think otherwise.
He spent most of his afternoon in the shop that day, watching her from afar and smiling when she smiled, frowning
when she did, and noticing all those little things that only couples are supposed to notice. Like the way she played
with the twin bangs descending down the perfect column of her neck, twisting them around her fingers until he couldn’t
really say if her curls were real or a result of this particular habit of hers. Or how she knew just the right
thing to say when the exotic girl, the one who had bitch-slapped Jade into next week (and effectively bespelled
him in the process), got too carried away. Or how her skirt rode up her thighs whenever she changed sitting positions
in an attempt to get more comfortable. Or how her shirt gaped whenever she reached across the table for a spoonful
of Blue Hair’s ice cream and Oh my God was that a glimpse of breast?
He didn’t realize he was staring until the sheer silence which fell across the coffee shop deafened him. Even from
across the room he was able to see Bunny—how he had come to call the shortest of the group, a girl with the strangest
hairdo he had ever seen bar none—lean forward and whisper/shout conspiratorially: “I think you’ve got a secret
admirer, Mako-chan!”
The excited whispers followed him out and chased him down the street, and by the time he made his way back to his
house, finding Kevin watering his flowers didn’t even faze him. As if seeing the older man caring for such trivialities
was the most normal thing in the world, Nate nodded in Kevin’s general direction and locked himself in his room
for the rest of the day. He didn’t dare show his face at the coffee house for a week after that, but in the end,
his need to see her overpowered his shame and he found himself sitting on his usual table at exactly 5:43 that
Thursday afternoon, knowing they usually met around six.
They didn’t see him when they first came in, but the fact he was almost hiding under the table might’ve had something
to do with that. The waitress, however, seemed undaunted by his antics. Lips as read as her hair, she said nothing
while taking his order, but as she was turning to leave, she bent down to whisper a single sentence to him: “She’s
been looking for you all week. About time you showed up, buster.”
Still deciding whether to be offended or pleased by the comment, by the time Nate had gathered his wits and come
up with a good response, Unazuki was already half-way across the diner and chatting animatedly with the group of
girls he had come to fear and respect. He blanched when five pairs of questioning eyes turned to look his way as
Unazuki pointed rather rudely to where he was trying to disappear into the plastic chair that held him, and wondered
why oh why hadn’t he listened to Kevin and gone fishing instead of spending his days stalking a girl that was barely
of legal age.
Deeply immersed in the many ways he could pretend he hadn’t been ogling her for over three weeks now, Nate didn’t hear her at
first. Her soft cough and first words were lost among the cat-calls and whistles coming from the rambunctious table
occupied by the Girlfriends From Hell, but one glance from Makoto and they fell silent. And even if he could still
hear them skittering and muttering and doing that thing that girls did that would forever and always remain a mystery
to men, it suddenly seemed unimportant as Makoto sat across from him, hands clasped in her lap and the reddest
of blushes coloring her pretty cheeks.
“Hi”, was all he managed to make out from the string of words that left her lips, but even if she had been speaking
slow and steady and enunciating every single word, he wouldn’t have heard anything else. She was there! With him!
Speaking!
Something that was eager and young and so damn stupid it made him want to smash his face against the linoleum table
took hold of his vocal cords and begun speaking.
“I wasn’t looking. I swear. And I wasn’t following you around, that was just a coincidence! I just happen to like
flowers and you went into the same shop I was going into and you got the same flowers I did and I swear I am not
stalking you!”
Perhaps it was the nerves. Or maybe it was just the way his eyes had widened to the diameter of dinner plates.
Whatever the case, his Mako-chan seemed lost, sitting in front of him but seeming a thousand miles away, and Nate
wanted nothing more than to reach across the chasm that separated them and hug her close. Maybe that’s why when
she made a move to rise, an apology falling from her coral-pink lips, he found his brain and said: “Wait!”
And miraculously, she did. She stopped, eyeing him slowly, letting him make the next move.
“Would you—I mean, do you like coffee?”
It was a stupid question to ask: he knew she disliked coffee with a passion, preferring mild herbal teas to the
bitter taste of caffeine. He had spent many a night picturing the day he would be able to introduce her to the
joys and pleasures of coffee drinking, cream and chocolate included.
“Not really”, she said, and something that was wild and hurting flashed through her eyes, “I prefer tea.”
‘I know’, he wanted to say, but instead he pretended to give her answer some thought. Whoever had hurt her in the
past, he would someday hunt down and maim, but today, today it was about making her feel better. And so he
smiled that grin that had weakened a thousand teenage knees and broken several older hearts, and asked: “Would
you mind having a cup of tea with me, then?”
For five heart-stopping seconds, the question hung in the air between them, and it was as if the entire coffee
house held its breath: behind Mako’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the girlfriends, lips being bitten, napkins
being squeezed and straws being folded into impossible shapes, and he realized he was still waiting for an answer
and dear God, what if she said no?
“I’d love to.”
The cheers that followed were heard all the way down to the Ukabe district.
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The End.
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:
‘Sincerity of Wood’: one of the possible meanings for Mako’s name. It’s all very complicated, what with the Japanese
having their ‘literal’ and ‘kanji’ meanings that don’t usually match. Just go with me on this one, ‘k?
Canna bulbs: generic flowers, really pretty. Come in several colors, was just an excuse to have Nate following
Mako around. :0)