𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, 𝐤. 𝐬𝐚𝐞-𝐛𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

003. coffee cake on christmas eve eve, if you want

At least, that's what you've been trying to convince yourself that you love the most about work. It seems less creepy than admitting you have a crush on a customer.

And your lovely coworkers found joy gloating about it. Sauntering from the kitchen with a stained apron and smug smirk is your most favorite confrère, Gi-Hun, leaning against the front counter beside you.

"Ahhh, (Name), you look very pretty tonight," He teases, noting your sudden lack of sweatpants and false lashes. "Remind me — have you always gotten this dressed up to stock creamers and sugars in the middle of the night? Or is it just because you know she's coming to see you?"

She, as in your customer crush — The Café's one and only regular that habitually arrives at the peak of moon-glow. The quiet girl who likes coffee cake and closing time — A face of freckles absorbed into a hardcover copy or macbook screen, never straying from her single order of a slice of coffee cake and any booth specifically in your section.

"Shut up, old man!" You groan out, rolling your eyes at him. "I-I like to look nice for the holidays... And she's not coming to see me."

Shaking your head, your index finger taps against the cash drawer in a jittery spell of angst while glimpsing out at the dimmed horizon — Whether she's coming to see you or not, she's still coming... Which may or may not be the real reason you're so dressed up.

"Oh, yeah?" Sangwoo, (your least favorite supervisor) chimes in from the supply closet behind you, a scoffed chuckle leaving his lips. "So you think Coffee Cake girl has been coming here almost every night for the last few months to visit the two old men then?"

"She comes to the Café because it's a Café!" You defend. "And she likes coffee cake."

Sangwoo shakes his head. "Nobody likes coffee cake that much."

Maybe you'd agree if Coffee Cake girl wasn't alike a labyrinth to read. You were still unsure if she was a subtle flirt, or just a really nice and frequent customer. If you watched carefully enough, sometimes you'd catch her stealth gaze lingering, you might even receive a quick compliment before she scurried out of the shop — And never before she left did she ever forget to give you (and you only) a proper thank you and goodbye.

Then again, you didn't even know her name. Her presence often spoke more than she did, a devastatingly beautiful mystery to you — She'd smile, shake her short bangs yes, solicit a hum of approval or mumble a faint sentence, the formally florid hue flushing her fair skin made obvious by the pinpricks of pigment clustered on the apples of her chiseled cheeks.

Most of the time, you did all the word-vomiting out of sheer nervousness. There's an outstanding chance she probably thinks you're missing a few marbles.

"Your girl's about to walk in." Gi-Hun says, nodding toward the entrance.

Sure enough, you fix your sights to see her — Strutting up to the café in classic sweats, one hand holding some hardcopy novel, the other was pushed into the pocket of her oversized bomber jacket, features apathetic and jet dark strands waving with the wind.

Her beauty was the composer to the symphony of heartbeats bruising against your ribcage, caroling a melody your lips don't even know the words to.