Happy

It was always hard to make coffee for impatient people. Most of the time, customers were understanding. They knew that it takes a while to brew coffee and to put donuts in a box and clean counters off and to make sure every order is correct. But the impatient ones, the intolerant few with Bluetooth headsets and scowls on their faces that tapped their feet in silent frustration – those were the worst. They always put me on edge.

But it was even harder to make coffee for someone when they wouldn’t stop staring at you.

“This would go a lot quicker if you stopped doing that.”

Liam grinned. “Doing what?”

“Staring at me. I can literally feel your eyes on me. It’s kind of creeping me out, dude.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder again when he didn’t respond, and I was met with a small pout as Liam leaned over the counter, his arms folded on top.

“I can’t help it,” he said, still grinning like mad.

I ducked my head, busying myself with doodling a picture of a Santa hat on Liam’s cup as I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. “And why’s that?”

“I’m notoriously impatient! You see, my reasoning is if I stare at you long and hard enough, then maybe, just maybe, the coffee will brew faster.” He paused as he licked his lips, then a wicked smile slunk across his face, wide enough that I could even see the laughing lines around his mouth through his stubble. “I like having my way.”

I was about to scold him for being so annoyingly antsy when, just as if it was on cue, the coffeemaker beeped in front of me, the alarm nearly making me jump up in surprise. I rolled my eyes at Liam when he smirked complacently, then spun back around. I pressed a few buttons on the coffeemaker, then crouched down, flipping open lid to the ice we kept in a cooler under the back counter.

Liam threw his torso over the counter behind me, peering at me with a pinched expression as he clung to the edge, his knuckles turning white. “What are you getting from down there?”

I glanced at him from behind my tousled bangs, blinking once. “Ice.”

He made a dissatisfied noise, his nose crinkling. “Ice?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter,” I teased, digging for a few ice cubes with a plastic shovel. “I’ve decided I’m making you an iced coffee.”

“Iced coffee?” He chuckled, slinking back over the counter. “When there’s a bloody blizzard outside? You’re mad, Kait.”

“I am, but I already know you’ll like it.” I finally freed a few cubes that were stuck together and shrugged them into his cup, then shut the cooler closed with a nice, loud smack. “I promise.”

He watched me as I fetched a different Sharpie from the mug next to my register. “Is your store usually this empty? I think it’s been like ten minutes since that last bloke came in.”

“No,” I said, marking up his cup. I wrote his name in block letters near the top, using the Santa hat I’d doodled as the A, then capped the Sharpie and clipped it onto my apron. “The breakfast rush starts around this time, but I think the snow scared away all the customers.”

“Does it snow a lot up here, then?”

I shrugged, watching him over the top of his cup. He appeared genuinely interested, his eyes wide as he stared back at me, as though someone was telling him had won the lottery. “Well, it’s not exactly unheard of. But white Christmases are rare. We usually get the bulk of our icy weather after New Year’s.”

He hummed to himself and stood up straight, winding his arms in front of his chest. “It almost always snows on Christmas where I’m from.”

“And where exactly is that?” I ventured, eager to get the spotlight off of me.

“Wolverhampton. It’s kind of in the middle of England.” He broke out into a smile and unwound one of his arms, waving his index finger around as he spoke. “You know, I remember one year, I think I was seven, maybe eight. It snowed during the night on Christmas eve.” He pinched his lower lip between his fingers, still staring at a spot on the counter, his eyes not meeting mine. “It’s funny, because when my sisters woke me up, instead of piling into our parents’ room to wake them up so we could open our presents like we usually did, they threw my boots and snow trousers at me and dragged me outside so we could have a snowball fight.”

He laughed again, reaching up to brush his fingers over his bedhead, rumpling up the combed-over coif at the top of his head even more.

“I ended up getting a black eye. Completely cried my eyes out. Nicola felt so guilty that she gave me all the candy from her stocking.” He sighed, looking wistful as his eyes clouded up. He shifted his weight on his feet, now staring at the ground. “Everything was so much simpler then.”

“You must really love the holidays, huh?”

He glanced at me, then turned his eyes back to his feet when he saw that I was staring back. “They mean a lot to me.” He licked his lips, one swift sweep of his tongue that made my heart slam against my ribs. “It’s the only time of year my family really comes together. I guess I just miss them a lot more than I should.”

“And who told you that?” I balked, setting down his cup. My fingers, which were already numb from the cold, only grew more unfeeling with the way his gloomy tone tickled at my heart. “There’s no such thing as missing your family too much, Liam.”

His mouth flopped for a few seconds before he finally settled on, “I feel a little bit guilty, you know? For leaving them behind a lot.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about a snowstorm,” I reminded him as he paced in front of the donuts. I picked his cup back up and walked over to the syrups, making sure to hunch my shoulders so he couldn’t see which flavors I was trying out.

He followed me on the other side of the counter, his arms still crossed as he watched me work the syrup. He harrumphed after a moment, rolling his eyes as he shook his head, his movements short and jittery. “You sound like you’re not one for the holidays.”

I scoffed. “No, trust me. This time last year I had a candy cane stuck between my teeth while I painted mistletoe on my nails.” I sighed gruffly, shaking my head a little. “I guess I’m kinda taking a break this year. More important things to worry about than where I stashed my Santa hat last Christmas.”

He waited a moment, watching me as I rifled through the syrup dispensers, still trying to decide which ones to mix together. “Like what?”

“Just stuff. School stuff,” I clarified when I spotted the pleading look he had aimed at the back of my head when I snuck a glance at him over my shoulder. “College in America is frustrating, I’ll tell you that much.”

He nodded like he understood, but his furrowed brow told me differently.

“What are your plans for Christmas if you can’t make it back in time?” I asked, licking off a droplet of white chocolate that had landed on my white polo sleeve.

“I’m probably gonna be attached to Skype the entire time, and try not to fall asleep since there’s like a five hour time difference.” He laughed a little, but it came out weak and gravelly, as though he was coughing up icicles bigger than the ones hanging off the rain gutters that lined the roof outside. “What about you?”

“What about me?” I repeated dumbly, trying to bid myself some extra time in hopes that once I made him his coffee that he’d be too busy downing it to ask me anymore questions. I knew he was trying to ease me into the whole Twenty Questions deal he had going on, but I just couldn’t find it in myself to budge. The way he talked made it seem like he expected the same amount of heart-to-heart from my end.

“Your family. You said you had a niece, but that’s all I’ve been able to suss out of you.”

I shrugged once, my fingers dancing as they hovered over the chocolate syrup. “I’ve got two older brothers. They both have little kids. Next question?”

When Liam hadn’t spoken for a moment, I started to turn around to see what he was doing – maybe he was caught up with the half-assed Christmas tree in the corner, or maybe he was on his phone. But I nearly dropped his coffee cup when I found him standing next to me, his head ducked to accommodate my height as he watched me closely.

“Shit!” I hissed under my breath, taking a step back. He only followed.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

I sighed once, setting his cup back onto the counter. “Nothing’s really stopping you, Liam.”

“Why is this year different? I don’t get it.”

It took a minute for my brain to wrap around what exactly he was confused about, because to me it was perfectly clear. I’d somehow misplaced my Christmas spirit, and in the process, let my frustration with scholarship applications bleed into every other facet of my daily life, churning out a quiet, seething Scrooge drenched in apathy in place of the human-sized Christmas elf I was last year.

“You hands are shaking.”

I instantly clenched my fingers into tight, little fists at my sides, pinching fresh crescent moons into my palms as I focused on breathing through my nose.

“Sugar rush.” I nodded to my lone coffee cup at the end of the counter behind Liam, the lid of which was stained with a light sheen of ChapStick, and he snuck a glance over his shoulder. It kind of surprised me how easily the lie fell from my lips. “I’m kind of a coffee addict,” I breathed out, my words airy.

He twisted back around and scanned my face, his lips set in a straight line.

“You know, if my district manager walks through the door right now, he’ll kill me when he sees you back here.”

He screwed his mouth to the side. “Your district manager?”

I dropped my gaze to my feet, finally unfurling my fists as I snuck my hands into my jeans pockets, leaning my hip into the counter. “We have an inspection today. My manager still hasn’t shown up and I’m the only one here working the front. It’s a fucking miracle that it snowed; otherwise I’d be in deep shit.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

I waved him off, shaking my head. “Exactly. You didn’t know. So don’t apologize.”

He only nodded.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been a little short with you,” I added a moment later when he still hadn’t returned to the other side of the counter. I kept my eyes on the wrinkles in his black t-shirt, tracing them as I thought over my words. “I’m just really stressed right now. You showed up at possibly the worst time.”

“Why is that?”

He took a step closer then, his head still ducked so he could match my gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck. I looked up from his chest, reeling back a little bit at the sight of him standing there, suddenly closer than he had been in the past half hour. His cologne was stronger now, mixing with the quiet scent of cinnamon and firewood that clung to his skin from his leather jacket.

I steeled myself, swallowing the lump that had crept up and settled in the back of my throat. “This isn’t exactly me.”

His face scrunched up delicately, and he dropped his voice even lower than the music playing over the speakers. I had to strain to hear him, letting myself lean forward to catch his words as they fell from his chapped lips. “What isn’t?”

“I’m not usually this apathetic. Or rigid. Or bitchy.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’m usually bouncing off the walls or talking a mile a minute or annoying the hell out of everyone, especially during Christmas.”

He pressed his lips together, fighting back a small smile as he nodded, gently nudging me along. “What happened?”

I dropped my head, rubbing my lips together as I looked off to the side to his coffee cup. The ice was melting already, the water pooling at the bottom. I’d have to start over with new ice pretty soon, but at the moment I just didn’t care. I was lost in the guy in front of me. I felt like I could either jump into how I’d made my holiday shit for myself or just completely close off, and either choice had a good chance of spooking Liam.

And that was the last thing I wanted.

There was something about him, and I hadn’t been able to pinpoint it just yet, that made me want to trust him. And while the logic behind the fact that I had only known him for a half hour and how he was crowding my personal space and just wouldn’t stop asking me complicated questions made me want to shove him back to the other side of the counter and out the door and back into the ice storm he came from, I just couldn’t let go. I couldn’t let him go.

I offered up a stiff laugh, shooting him a tight, sarcastic smile. “Tell me, Liam, do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said, not a single hint of doubt caught in his voice.

So I sucked in a deep breath before I let myself go.

“I’ve misplaced my Christmas spirit this year somewhere between filling out scholarship applications and working full time so I have enough money in case the whole scholarship thing doesn’t work out in the first place.”

I reached up and pressed my fingers into my temple, trying to massage out the pins and needles that were starting to bubble up, but it was no use, and I could feel the headache seep into every corner of my brain as I continued talking.

“I haven’t turned on the Christmas radio station for weeks. My red and green nail polish have gone untouched for longer than that. My mom’s Santa hat that she gave me is missing. And last night, I tried to untangle the Christmas lights and I ended up crying on the floor in the garage when I couldn’t get the knots undone.” I stopped, giving myself a moment as I suddenly felt winded, like I just finished a fucking triathlon. “My brothers are scattered around Ohio and none of their annoying asses can make it for Christmas dinner, so it’s just me and my dad for the first time this year. And that in itself feels really fucking lonely.”

I swallowed hard, letting my hand drop back to my side. I could already feel something shift between Liam and me, as though he finally realized he’d been trying to open a poisonous can of worms this entire time. I couldn’t look at him, but I couldn’t shut up either, so I plowed on, drawing circles into the countertop to keep my hand from fidgeting at my side.

“Money is tight and the stress of it all has me bouncing off the walls and I feel like I’m trying to navigate through a minefield of emotions with a blindfold on. And it sucks because all I want is to feel normal, but if I have work for it, then it’s not really normal anymore, is it?”

It was quiet for a moment in the shop as the music stopped and an ad for pumpkin donuts took its place. I couldn’t look up, suddenly overcome with a wave of embarrassment and regret. My stomach was rolling and my heart felt like someone was slamming it with a hammer against a sidewalk. I stared at my feet for a moment, basking in the sound of Liam’s breathing, easy and shallow, as it wavered over the music while it picked back up.

But then a pair of scuffed, dark brown leather boots with water stains around the toes shuffled next to my own black work shoes, the toes touching mine. I sniffed once, swiping my finger under my nose, indulging in what felt like a blanket of warmth that washed over my shoulders, a shaky breath tousling my bangs. Then I felt his arms as he rested them across my shoulders, his fingers brushing over my hair piled at the nape of my neck, and for a second it felt like the weight of his body pressed against mine overcame every ounce of stress that had been weighing me down for the better part of a month.

“That sucks.” He said it sincerely, his face crumpling with pity, and I could feel his words muss up the hair I had tucked behind my ear. “That really sucks and no one should feel that way, especially during the holidays, and especially you of all people. This is Christmas. It’s bloody Christmas and I wish there was something I could say to—”

There was a shrill squeak, followed by a loud smack. I jumped back, already tucking my hair back behind my ears as I looked over Liam’s shoulders to the break room door, where Winona stood, tying back her apron as she stared at her feet.

“Excuse me,” I said, brushing past him.

He twisted around and watched me sweep past him, swallowing hard as he blinked his eyes owlishly.

“Is there any reason you chose now to finally pop up?” I asked under my breath once I reached Winona.

“I was getting bored and you suck at flirting.”

My brow pinched together tightly, and I instantly reached up to twist my rook piercing between my fingers. “Oh my god, you’re such a tit.”

“The walls are disturbingly thin, Kait,” she reminded me. “Though, considering what I just saw, I think I may have to take what I said back. That boy looks one forehead wrinkle away from lovesick.”

I shushed her, as her voice had begun to steadily rise, and I glanced at Liam over my shoulder. He was kneading his fingers through his bedhead, scuffing the toe of his boot against the tile.

“I’m starting to think that he may be more trouble than he’s worth.”

Winona finally finished tying her apron and smoothed down the front. “Is he a creep? What, do you want me to get rid of him or something?” She rolled up her sleeves, muttering under her breath, “I can be a klutz if it comes down to it. That douchey leather jacket of his doesn’t stand a chance.”

“No, no, god, no.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, still staring at my feet. “I don’t know.”

She just shrugged and pushed past me, gliding past Liam to her usual register at the end of the counter.

“Scooch your tush,” she told him sweetly, waving the back of her hand at him. “This lady’s here to work.”

"Oh!" His head shot up, and he backed up slowly, his back facing me, as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Sorry, sorry.”

“You’re fine, sugar,” she said, already thoroughly distracted by her register to even notice him.

He was still walking backwards when he hip-checked the corner of the counter, letting out a guttural whine. I reached out and grabbed his arm before he stumbled over his feet, the untied laces of his boots scraping against the tile. I struggled to ignore the warmth of his skin, even through his thin black t-shirt, and guided him around the counter, my hand falling back to my side once he found his balance again.

“Thanks,” he muttered, hiking up his jeans as they sagged against his hips.

“Did you still want that coffee?” I offered.

He smiled, but it seemed almost forced. Then he nodded slowly as he went to retrieve his jacket, throwing it over his arm.

I busied myself with starting over on his drink, letting myself get distracted as I worked. I knew that if he took his coffee black like I’d guessed, that the only way to possibly surprise him while also making him a drink he’d actually like would be to make one that was exactly the opposite - insanely sweet like he took his tea, and served cold. He seemed to always rein back his sweet tooth, so maybe it would help him let go.

I started with dumping out the ice that I’d left in his cup and refilling it with new cubes. Then I added a few shots of syrup before I poured in the coffee itself. I mixed it together with a straw then smacked the lid on top, giving it a good shake for measure before I spun around and looked up from the freezing masterpiece in my hands.

It was then that I finally noticed that there was a line six people long behind Winona’s register, the last person at the end leaning against the door.

I clambered over to her as she was taking an older woman’s order, her hands flying over the keyboard.

“Did you need help?”

“If you start a new brew, I’ll probably be so thankful that I’ll kiss you on the face,” she said, taking the customer’s money and ignoring the stink eye she shot the two of us. “We’re also running low on medium plastic cups, babe.”

“I’ll get right on it, just let me give—”

I stopped short when I spotted Liam near the exit as he shrugged on his leather jacket with one hand. He had his iPhone pressed to his ear with the other, but switched hands to pull the rest of his jacket over his broad shoulders. He looked harried, almost worried, his brow pinched so tightly in the middle that I could’ve stuck a quarter between his eyebrows and it would’ve stayed.

But when he looked up and spotted me behind the counter, his drink clutched in my hand, the worry lines that dug into his forehead disappeared. He smiled softly, giving me a little wave as he patted his pockets, finally fishing out a pair of gloves from his jacket. With his head ducked and his phone pressed to his ear with one hand, he pulled on each glove carefully with his teeth, still listening intently to whoever was on the other line. Then he ducked behind a customer and pressed his back into the exit bar of the door, pushing back out into the snowstorm with nothing but a few scattered snowflakes and a pumpkin white chocolate iced coffee left in his wake.