Intrigue

“Would you like your receipt?” I asked the customer kindly. An automatic habit as easy as breathing after working at the local, family owned coffee shop for over two years. The woman smiled back at me and politely declined, like most customers did. Who bothered keeping scraps of paper these days anyways? Apparently not many. I smiled and wished her a good evening as she turned to walk out the door and I pinned the unwanted receipt on top of the already growing stack from the day.

“Sorry guys, no one wants you anymore. Guess you’re just outdated to most people.” I sighed with a smile, thinking back on how much had changed over the years. The explosion in popularity of the internet, cell phones, and every form of possible instant communication certainly had made a mark on all things paper and non-digital.

I grabbed a rag and began to walk around the small, cozy shop and wipe off the tables as I thought about all the “progress” society had made in just a few short decades. A small laugh and quick roll of my eyes registered as I thought about the fads had come and gone, some accompanied by mild to outrageous obsession from certain people- email, instant messaging, myspace, Yahoo, AOL. Ironic that now it was special news just to get a normal email from someone these days, and a very rare occasion to receive a hand written note. Where did those old, simple days go? Doesn’t anyone else miss it? I let the thought linger.

With all the tables cleared and my mind wandering over the amusing but boring subject of changing technology, I quickly decided it was time to go to the back of the shop and dive back into my book. Unlike most of my peers, I absolutely loved to read a good book. Or several at a time, whatever the occasion called for and how many particular books captured my immediate attention. And not a book that you read online or from a HD or LCD or whatever-else kind of screen. An actual book that you could smell the old pages and see how much you had read in a day and feel proud of yourself.

I checked one last time to make sure everything was in order for the next set of customers that would probably come before or after dinner, and made a fast move to the chair and my dog-eared copy of Les Miserables. An old book to be sure, but a classic, and a favorite read of mine. Settling into the chair, I quickly found my place and took off.

If there was one thing I never seemed to grow tired of, it was reading a book. I found that I could literally just lose myself somewhere in between the pages. The inevitable hums and ticks of the busy world around me would fade to background noise, and then to silence as my eyes ravaged hungrily over each word, each sentence, and never seemed to grow full when page after page had been consumed.

Stories pulled me in, captured and captivated me in plots that were thick with adventure, laced with love, and loaded with suspense. My imagination would always run free over those pages, and I never stopped got caught up with the characters as I shared in their plights.

No, nothing at this moment was as delightful as this. My beloved book, peace, quiet and-

DING DING.

Coffee. I groaned inwardly and set my book aside as I got up to help the next customers. What met my eyes however, threw my heart into discouragement the moment I rounded the corner. A large group of six, excited women were crowded around the counter, decided what they wanted to order. I didn’t mind the customers of course, I actually loved being around people. But of course, they came whenever I got to the good part in the stories, as my luck would always seem to have it.

I pulled a smile across my face and greeted them as cheerfully as I could, and began to take their orders. One wanted a large- “Well, no,” she cut herself off mid sentence, “better make it a small. Can’t be up all night.” I smiled knowingly and switched cups to grab the smaller size as the women gabbed and giggled between themselves. “Oh, actually, I don’t have anywhere to be early tomorrow, right girls? Better make it a large after all! Girls night out! Whooo!” She shouted excitedly and I tried to laugh along as best I could while trying not to show my shock at their display of wild enthusiasm over coffee.

The next five ladies displayed their choice of coffee in somewhat of a similar fashion, a few stuck with their original order, while others changed their mind at the pressure of her friends urging her to just go ahead and get the larger size. It was girl’s night out after all. I almost smirked inside at their wild night out… getting coffee. But I knew that some people had their fun in different ways, and at least these ladies were having their own fun, I guess. Even if it was a little over the top, at least it was amusing on my part.

As I finished ringing up the last few cups of coffee, I heard the doorbell ring out its cheery ding again. I quickly shouted out “Be with you in a minute,” not even bothering to look up as I counted out the change one of the women had handed me.

“Take your time, I’m not in a rush.” A deep, smooth voice with the hint of a southern accent responded. The voice caught me off guard as I now counted back the change owed to the customer. Most people didn’t bother saying anything back when I greeted them. I dared a quick glance up in between quarters to see who this person was.

He stood off to the side of the counter, his eyes roaming over the order board on the back wall. As far as his appearance was concerned, nothing stood out to me that was out of the ordinary. His average sized frame was draped in casual clothing that suggested perhaps a laid back personality. Ruffled, light brown hair streaked with flecks of blonde sat in an unkempt pile on top of his head, however. Maybe just lazy then and not laid back, I mused at his untidy hair. But I quickly snapped my eyes back to the quarters as I saw him turn his head back in my direction.

The woman thanked me and scuttled off to join her cackling, jovial group of girl friends at their table.

“Sorry about the wait, what can I get for you?” I smiled back up at the man who moved closer to the counter now.

“Oh it’s no problem. I don’t mind waiting.” He flashed a smile back and me, which I found quite beautiful, honestly. It practically lit up his face, bringing soft lines to the corners of his eyes. It just fit him, and it took me aback for a brief second. I stood there, staring dumbly at his face until he laughed and looked back up at the order board and I looked away, feeling my face grow red.

It wasn’t like I was transfixed with his looks or anything. Like I had measured before, he just was your average “Joe.” But that smile and laugh. I felt like his eyes were hiding some kind of delicious secret, and his laugh was only hinting at it’s brilliance. I wanted to know what it was, and he intrigued me.

Quite unsettling, actually. To be intrigued so much in just a few moments by a complete stranger. But, such was the life of a coffee shop barista, I suppose. I let my mind wander for a second over all the strange, random, hilarious, and painful encounters I had seen cross over the tables of this shop. People met daily to hash out business deals, to begin and end relationships, to catch up with old friends or get to know new ones, or to simply just see what was happening in the small community. And all over coffee. A bit serious, if you asked me. But, my job never really got boring because of it. Even if that did mean I had to eavesdrop every once in while.

I let a smile cross my mouth as I thought back and waited for the strange, intriguing man to make his decision on coffee.

“Hmm.” He brooded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What do you suggest? What’s good?” His southern accent was barely noted, but definitely there as he turned to me again with that brilliant, secret hiding smile.

“Well, that depends. What do you like? Sweet, strong, bold, medium, cream, no cream?” I rattled off the options for him.

“How about all of the above?” He laughed, “I hope that doesn’t make your job too hard. I guess I’m just not that picky. Just surprise me.” I smiled back.

“Are you sure you want to trust me with that decision? I mean, it is your coffee after all. Some people get pretty protective of it.” I teased back as I grabbed a cup from the stack next to the register.

“Now that is true. I mean, I have been known to sometimes, on the occasion, to uh- bring my own thermometer to test how hot the coffee is. And to have the barista count out each grain of sugar that goes in. To ensure maximum flavor and quality, of course. But I’m sure you get that all the time.” He laughed at himself and his eyes glinted with mischievousness and innocence all at once.

“Well now, I did have, lets see, oh about ten people do that today, actually.” I came back at him, trying my best to keep a straight face. He quickly stopped laughing and his eyes widened in shock.

“Are you serious? People actually do that?” He whispered it in disbelief, almost mortified.

I just gave a big smile and laughed, taking his cup to the side and started making my own concoction of coffee for him.

“No. Only joking. But, I’m sure there are some people out there who would. I actually have no doubt. People really do get finicky about their coffee.” The man breathed a sigh of relief and let yet another infectious grin slide across his face.

“Well, that’s good. I mean about not bringing the thermometers. I guess I can see about people and their coffee. People are just crazy these days.”

I nodded in agreement as I put the finishing touches into his coffee and snapped the lid into place. A small trail of steam began to lazily climb out of the cup as I set it on the counter for him to taste. I leaned against the side of the register as he took the cup and took a whiff.

“Hmm. Cinnamon? Nutmeg?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “Maybe?”

A crooked grin spread across my lips as I replied, “Secret recipe, sorry.” I moved away from the register to wipe off the counter and give him a minute to try it out. And honestly to get a break. It was refreshing, yet so very strange to have someone so engaging come in and talk to me. Usually I just made their coffee, in and out. Quick and easy. This guy was a little bit more complicated than that. But it piqued my curiosity. I still couldn’t put a finger on that secret hiding smile. I couldn’t figure out what it was about him, but he unsettled me. Not in a bad way, just a different way.

“Whoa, this is pretty epic right here. I think you’re going to have to tell me what’s in this now.” He said in between sips of the warm brew. I sighed and moved back towards the strange man.

“Sorry, no can do.” I couldn’t stop smiling back at him. It wasn’t like I was extremely attracted to him or anything, but I just found myself completely drawn to him. To his being and personality. But right now I just felt like a big, smiling idiot.

“Well what do I owe you?”

“Let’s see, a million dollars?” I tried in jest, which in turn he made a pained face at and winced.

“Oh, fresh out. Just bought that million dollar yacht. Maybe for that recipe though I could work up another million.”

“A million dollar…yacht?” It was my turn to gawk at him now in disbelief.

“Oh yeah, it’s my third. This year.” My eyes must have turned into saucers at this point, because he burst out laughing. Call me gullible, I guess, but I had no idea who this man was and for all I knew, he really could have three yachts.

“No, no, I’m just playing,” He continued, “Had to take my turn at the fun, sorry.”

I shrugged it off with a chuckle and a roll of my eyes and told him his real total. He handed me a five dollar bill and slipped the change into the tip jar. I had just finished shutting the register drawer, and I let my eyes wander up to his face once again.

Curiosity and intrigue once again welled up like a huge wave inside of me as my eyes locked into his. They were bright green, with a ring of gold in the center. Truly spectacular. And then that smile crossed his face once last time as he said thanks and wished me a good day. I replied the same to him, slightly flustered and scatter brained from the few short seconds I had looked into his eyes.

I had seen the same delightful secret dance in his eyes. Hiding around every corner, never slow enough to be caught, but fast enough to catch your eye and make you want to chase after it. What was it?

It was actually kind of frustrating. I had been perfectly content to read my book and make coffee for the “normal” people that came in that day. But no, this guy had to saunter in and stir up the waters. I let an exasperated sigh escape my lips as I once again headed back to my book.

Les Miserables was once again in my hands and my eyes were skimming over the pages, but none of the words were sinking in. Two pages had passed and I couldn’t remember a thing about what had happened in the story. Now this was really getting annoying. I couldn’t even concentrate on the book! He was just an average guy, getting coffee. Why couldn’t I let it go?

But his eyes and that smile taunted me in my mind. There was something about him. Something different than the rest of the people that I had ever met or knew. It had been like looking at a fire burning in his eyes, intense and full of raw emotion. At the same time it had been like looking at a gentle, rolling stream. Peaceful. At ease.

“Ugh!” I tossed the book down onto the counter in front of me and drew a hand over my face and through my long hair. This just won’t do, I thought. I have to know what this guy’s deal is. What is his secret?