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The first time you entered the new coffee shop on your block, you knew nothing about Carmilla, aside from the fact that she was a philosophy major, despised jocks and enjoyed riling up your ex-roommate Betty. But for the last five months, you had observed her. The way her loose curls fell over her shoulders; how both anger and mischief lit up her dark eyes; her overall aloof attitude. You had seen her be broody, sarcastic, mostly rude. You had grown accustomed to her apathetic routine between the coffee machines, the register and the counter. You had even noticed the swarm of girls buzzing around her, trying to get her attention with shameless flirting and invitations to parties. The popularity of your favorite coffee house wasn't only due to its proximity to the campus you graduated from a year ago, that much you had deciphered. It was also crowded because of its one (and only) barista: Carmilla.
The habit she had, to look at women like they were the only important thing in the room, melting them with suggestive smirks and the slightest touches, hadn't escaped you. To be honest, even though you were still astounded sometimes –and a tad offended— at the rate Carmilla seemed to sink her teeth into womankind, you couldn't fault any of them for falling for her charms.
You had witnessed enough of her flirting tricks to recognize that she had mastered the art of seduction, to the point of making her annoying habit of nicknaming every woman after edible items somehow endearing.
Since you happened to have a pulse and boobs, you hadn't been spared from the nicknames. She had called you cupcake, creampuff, buttercup, and so many other ridiculous names; but to your surprise –and maybe a little bit of disappointment— she had never flirted with you. In fact, she had never really made eye contact with you longer than the time it took her to greet you with the familiar "Hi there cupcake, the usual?"
Maybe you just weren't her type, even though based on the legion of her admirers, she didn't seem to have one. Maybe you were just too awkward, too dorky or probably just not sexy enough to spark any interest in her lady killer side. Not that you were complaining. Not really. You had had your fair share of seduction games, dates and adventures over the years to get rid of most of your naivety; but Carmilla was so forward with her flirting that she would most likely render you speechless and flustered, with no other choice than to find another coffee house to feed your obsessive relationship with cocoa. You couldn't have that. She always put a few marshmallows in your steaming cup without asking, and that made it the best hot cocoa in town.
Despite the absence of flirting, you still sometimes noticed a little smile ghosting her lips. One you had never seen her give to anyone else. One that she always tried to hide, because Carmilla didn't smile; she smirked. As much as you kept yourself from reading too much into it, you liked being the reason behind that rare occurrence, even if it was because she was having fun at your expense.
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At some point, you realized that the furtive glances, occasional chit chat, shy smiles, and marshmallows dissolving in your hot cocoa had become an essential part of your morning ritual. Nothing seemed to clear the fogginess from your brain more than coming to the coffee shop and ordering your favorite drink.
You weren't sure how you felt about that.
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You had never seen Carmilla write the names of customers on the cups she served. Since the shop was small, the wait was never long enough between the moment you picked your poison of choice and the moment she handed it to you for her to bother.
So the first time it happened, it caught you completely off guard, and left you perplexed.
Written on the sleeve of your to-go cup was the word "warm" in messy handwriting. No "cutie pie", no "poptart", just "warm". At first, you thought that she maybe meant the beverage inside the cup, and wondered why she wouldn't make it hot like you would expect from a place supposed to serve hot beverages. But then a speeding car drove through a large puddle near the sidewalk, drenching you as you exited the coffee house, and you forgot about it.
The next day, "bubbly" was smudged across your cup and it confused you even more than "warm". The day after that, she came up with "sunshine", and then "dorky" followed, and you couldn't be more clueless about these sudden changes.
On the fifth day since she had started writing little messages on your cups, you barreled inside her shop and stumbled over your feet in your rush, struggling to keep your laptop and some paper tucked under your arms. You had given yourself a pep talk the night before to finally ask Carmilla about the break in your routine, but you had overslept and needed your daily cocoa to somehow help you come up with a conclusion to your very first article as a professional journalist.
At the counter, you mumbled your order without really paying attention, too caught up in your little panic bubble. On your way back to the shop door, however, you noticed the words written on your cup. "Stressed out". Without really knowing why, you felt a slight uncomfortable tug in your chest until you saw what was written underneath. "Breathe" and you instantly took a slow, deep breath, realizing that you had been holding it in since waking up this morning. Turning the cup further, you saw the word "again", and couldn't help but giggle, looking over your shoulder at Carmilla as you pushed the door of the shop open. She winked at you on her way to the register, and you couldn't be more grateful that she had managed to reduce your anxiety, even for a brief moment.
The following days brought new words. Carmilla never seemed to run out of vocabulary, and between "cute" and "headstrong", you had again spent an entire week trying to work up the courage to ask her what this whole labeling thing was actually about. The task had distracted you so much that you didn't see the day of the year you dreaded the most coming, and it hit you like a freight train.
Simply rolling out of bed and getting ready for work sucked all your energy and made you wish that day was over already. You made the decision to only go through your mandatory activities and skip everything else, including your daily trip to the coffee house.
When you passed by the front of the store on your way to the office, watching people wrap their hands contentedly around their mugs and to-go cups, you reconsidered and thought that you might pop in after all. You weren't exactly in the mood for sweets, but maybe today was the most appropriate day for you to treat yourself. You read the board three times then eavesdropped on the two people standing behind you to try keeping your mind clear of any morbid thoughts. The last thing you wanted was to burst in tears in the line, and you started second-guessing your decision to make this little stop.
Before you could change your mind and turn around, Carmilla came into view. You did your best to be your cheerful self in front of her, but her frown immediately told you that she had seen right through you. You grabbed your cup and rushed out with little more than a mumbled thank you.
When you set your cocoa down on your desk and got rid of your coat, the handwriting that had become familiar over the past few weeks caught your eye, and you finally noticed the simple word Carmilla had written. "Sad".
It brought tears to your eyes and you sniffled loudly to keep them from falling down your cheeks. As you were about to rub the sleeves of your sweater over your eyelids, you realized that there was a little doodle next to the word: a silly, five-petaled flower with three cartoonish fingers wrapped around the stem that were handing the flower to you. A bored smiley face that was so Carmilla completed the drawing, and despite your numbness, a feeble giggle escaped you.
You kept the cup with you the entire day, through your work hours, during your visit to the cemetery, and finally, when you crashed down on your bed, feeling drained and missing your mum like crazy. Looking at the ridiculous doodle and tracing its edges absentmindedly had helped you survive the day, when your friends had been too busy with their own obligations to distract you from your melancholy. You decided then that you were going to do something nice for Carmilla in return, even if her motivations behind the odd correspondence were still a mystery to you.
When you skipped into the coffee shop two mornings later, there was surprisingly no line to welcome you, and you found yourself directly staring at a raised eyebrow and a little smile.
"You seem chipper for a Monday morning, Cupcake. Feeling good?" she asked without meeting your eyes, focusing her attention on the register instead. You knew very well what she was asking and why, and you were grateful she made it sound so casual. She was giving you a way out of dwelling on the subject or feeling bad for the way you had acted that day.
"I'm great, actually. That hot chocolate you served me last time definitely cheered me up."
By hot chocolate you meant her doodle, and the little smirk curling the corner of her lips told you that she was well aware of that. When she asked if you wanted the usual, you nodded enthusiastically, taking advantage of her trip to the frother to slip the paper bag you brought with you out of your backpack, and place it on the counter.
As soon as she handed you your cup of hot cocoa, you rushed toward the glass door, not wanting to be there when Carmilla found the chocolate chip cookie that you had left for her, even less when she would read the word "caring" written on its wrapper.
"Creampuff?" she called after you before you could escape. "Did you forget something?" she asked, pointing at the paper bag on the counter.
"No. It's for you!" You hurried out of the door before she could answer.
The next day, you cautiously entered the coffee shop, nervously wringing another paper bag in your hands, not knowing what Carmilla's reaction would be to your own attempt at doing something nice for her.
The same question she always greeted you with rang in your ears when you reached the counter she was wiping clean, and you gave her a shy nod. Neither the cookie nor your little word were mentioned as she made her way to the frother.
When she came back, instead of handing the cup to you as usual, she plopped it down on the counter with a sharp little pop, the hint of a dare shining in her eyes. You looked down at the sleeve and read "delusional". You frowned. You hadn't expected her stream of compliments to last forever – hell, you had never expected her to pay you compliments at all in the first place— but this particular word felt undeserved. You mumbled a thank you, hesitantly pushed the bag holding the cookie of the day toward her, and made a quick exit.
After her "delusional", you kind of regretted writing "big softie" on the cookie wrapper. Not that you thought she didn't deserve it. Lately, her behavior towards you had definitely cracked her usual aloof and flirty armor, but maybe she didn't appreciate you impinging on her little notes game, and her choice of yesterday's word was her way of telling you to back off.
When it was finally your turn to order, Carmilla greeted you with a teasing smile.
"Hey there, buttercup. I wasn't sure I'd see you today." At your confused expression, she added, "you seemed a bit upset when you left yesterday."
"Oh." Your mind blanked. You hadn't expected her to notice, but before you could come up with a reply, she pushed a slice of chocolate cake across the counter towards you.
"On the house." She winked and left to make your cup of hot cocoa.
Whether the cake was meant as a peace offering or to comfort you, you didn't know, but you felt relief tentatively bloom inside your chest. Until she placed your order in front of you.
"Wildly optimistic" was written on the sleeve of the cup, and it somehow felt sarcastic. After yesterday's "delusional", it hurt your feelings a little. You opened your mouth to mumble something snappy, but stopped when you noticed that the daring glint in her eyes was back, this time coupled with an amused smirk. It confused you, and it took your investigative journalist's brain a lot longer than you would care to admit for it all to suddenly click.
"Delusional". "Wildly optimistic". They were answers to your "Caring" and "Big softie". You started giggling, and then giggled some more until it turned into a full belly laugh, and for the first time, you witnessed a grin grace Carmilla's lips.
"I am not delusional, but I'll admit I'm an optimist," you finally shot back, returning her teasing look.
She argued that you were both, until you reminded her that you still had the little doodle that she made when you were sad. She groaned and then grumped out, "the cups are recyclable for a reason, Cupcake."
After that, the back and forth went on. Every day, you would trade a cookie for a cup of cocoa, each with their own little word written on it. Sometimes the words sparked an entire conversation. Sometimes she just leaned on her elbows over the counter and looked at you with what you had come to call her “seduction eyes”, making you blush and stutter every time. Sometimes it was a simple exchange of greetings and thank yous. But every time your word of the day alluded to Carmilla having a heart, she would argue with you that you kept seeing things that weren't there, and the banter never failed to leave you feeling alive and buzzing.
Three weeks into this new dynamic, you finally realized she was flirting with you. It took you two more weeks to gather enough courage to ask her out. You psyched yourself out so much that the day you wrote "would you like to go on a date with me?" in very small print on the cookie wrapper, you were hyperventilating by the time you reached the counter. Your panic got so bad that you lied when she fussed over you and made you sit down, telling her that you occasionally had asthma attacks. You used that excuse to "forget" to give her the cookie that day.
After that epic disaster, you started carrying two cookies in your backpack at all times. One with a regular word, one with the dreaded question. Every day, you reached for the date cookie and tried to convince yourself to give it to Carmilla, and every day, you ended up eating it yourself, moodily throwing the wrapper into your desk bin.
On one Wednesday morning, Carmilla didn't greet you like she normally did. She didn't even notice you, too busy wrestling with the frother and flapping steam away with her rag. She was so distracted that it suddenly gave you the courage to reach for the scary cookie and place its brown paper bag on the counter. With a bit of luck, she would be too busy to even notice your crabbed words on the wrapper.
"Creampuff, there you are!"
Her voice startled you, and you felt like a deer caught in headlights.
"I'm starving," she continued, oblivious of your terrified expression. "Morning has been crazy, I haven't even had time for breakfast."
She reached for the paper bag gratefully and took the cookie out. You had half the mind to rip it out of her hand and throw it in the general direction of the street, but before you could, she was already halfway towards the cocoa machine.
"Give me five minutes and I'll make your favorite, Cupcake!" she shot over her shoulder, taking over the frother again.
The panic settled in big time as you watched her eat the cookie between tweaks. Part of you wanted to run and never come back, already mentally going over the other coffee shops available in the area, while the other part of you yelled over and over again to girl the hell up and face the music.
Before the two sides could come to a decision on which option was the best, Carmilla was standing in front of you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for you to notice her. When you did, your knees turned to jelly. She raised the cup of cocoa to get your attention, before putting it down on the counter in front of you.
A "yes" was written on the sleeve, and it took everything in you not to either collapse or squeal in excitement. You weren't sure which. Carmilla was watching you with a fond grin on her lips, and suddenly the room grew uncomfortably hot around you. You needed to get out of here as quickly as possible before you started stuttering and embarrassing yourself.
When you went to grab your cup of cocoa, Carmilla pulled it out of your reach with a teasing "ah-ah". You looked up to give her a questioning glance, and the mischievous glint in her eye made your heart skip a beat.
"Before I fully agree to this date thing, I at least want to know if we could...click," Carmilla said in a low, seductive tone.
Your spine prickled slightly at the sound and you swallowed hard, not entirely sure you could trust your voice at this point. "Wh-what do you have in mind?"
Carmilla only answered with a smirk, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. She leaned over the counter, placing her chin in both hands while she kept eye contact with you. You had no clue as to what she was hinting at, and when she realized your confusion, she leaned a little more forward and raised her eyebrows expectantly, her eyes flitting to your lips.
Suddenly it hit you that she was asking for a kiss.
An embarrassed flush quickly crept up your neck, and you looked around nervously. You were trying to rationalize that she couldn't possibly ask you to do that in the middle of her crowded coffee shop, when you realized that, apart from a couple of students engrossed in their laptop and books in the back, you were pretty much alone. You licked your lips and tugged on your scarf a bit, hoping naively that it would help you even your breathing.
There it was again, that amused smile on her face, but this time, there was something soft to it, as if she found your nervousness endearing. She closed her eyes mercifully and made it clear to you that she would stand still. It settled your nerves a little that her deep brown eyes wouldn't be scrutinizing you as you leaned closer, but you were still incredibly nervous.
When you reached the counter and put a hand on it to steady yourself, you realized that your fingers were trembling a little. You weren't sure you were going to go through with her rather inappropriate request to kiss her, until you found yourself very close to the well-defined features of her face. You suddenly felt an urge to run a finger over the bridge of her nose, brush your thumbs over her sharp cheekbones, and kiss the edge of her impressive jawline. Your hand reached up to touch her skin on its own accord, but you quickly withdrew it, thinking that it might be a little too intimate for someone you hadn't even gone on a date with yet.
You leaned in a bit awkwardly, focused on her lips, when her scent hit you. A mix of leather and rain, and you were suddenly very grateful that her eyes were still closed, because you were pretty sure you were going to turn into a puddle of jelly before you even got the chance to touch her lips. She was overwhelming you by doing...nothing. Just standing there patiently, letting you stare at her face and take control of the kiss.
You took a deep breath, placed your hands firmly just outside her elbows and leaned forward over the counter. When your lips finally touched hers, the softness of her skin caused your brain to shut down.
Until you felt her flinch.
As her eyes opened wide in surprise, dread swelled inside your chest, and you suddenly realized that she had meant a kiss on her cheek, not on her lips. You felt your face flushing a deep red as you tried to sputter an apology, your legs ready to run you out of the store.
Before you could make a move and disappear forever, Carmilla grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back in, crashing your lips together. You gasped into the kiss, your hands flying up to cup her cheeks.
She was kissing you back. You hadn't ruined this.
You sighed against her lips as your body melted. She was good at this. Like, really good at this. When she pulled back, you leaned forward unconsciously, chasing after her. You didn't have to go far; she met you halfway to cover your mouth with little pecks this time, until both of your grins kept you from kissing properly. Biting your lip, you looked down shyly until you noticed her scribbling something on your cup of cocoa. She pushed it back towards you and turned it around slowly. The new words written on the other side of your cup made you burst out laughing.
"Definitely a yes."