Too Cold To Love, Too Dangerous To Leave

MAYA'S POV

The next morning, I made sure to set three different alarms. There was no way I was going to be late again. Mr. Peterson had been very clear that one more mistake and I was out.

When my first alarm went off at six-thirty, I actually got up. Jenna was still asleep in her room, and the apartment was quiet. I took my time getting ready, even turning on the water heater so I could have a proper warm shower.

By seven-fifteen, I was dressed, fed, and ready to go. I even had time to put on a little makeup and fix my hair properly.

"Look at you, being all responsible," Jenna said, walking into the kitchen in her pajamas. "I'm impressed."

"I can't afford to be late again," I said, putting my lunch in my bag. "Mr. Peterson was really serious yesterday."

"Well, you look nice," Jenna said, pouring herself some coffee. "Much better than the wet rat look you had going on yesterday."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, but I was smiling. "I'll see you later."

"Have a good day at work!"

I left the apartment with plenty of time to spare. The bus came right on schedule, and I arrived at the coffee shop at seven-forty-five. Fifteen minutes early.

"Good morning, Maya," Sarah said when I walked in. She was already behind the counter, setting up for the day. "You're early! Did aliens abduct the real Maya?"

"Very funny," I said, tying my apron on. "I'm just trying to keep my job."

"Smart," Sarah said. "Mr. Peterson was in a mood yesterday after that guy complained about you."

My stomach dropped. "He complained about me?"

"Yeah, after he left, he apparently called Mr. Peterson and said you were unprofessional," Sarah explained. "Mr. Peterson was pretty annoyed."

"Are you serious?" I said, feeling angry. "I did everything he asked! He was the one being difficult!"

"I know, I know," Sarah said, holding up her hands. "I told Mr. Peterson that the guy was being unreasonable, but you know how he is. The customer is always right."

I sighed and started helping Sarah set up. This was just great. Now I was on Mr. Peterson's bad side because some rude guy couldn't handle his coffee.

The morning rush started around eight-fifteen. People came in ordering lattes, cappuccinos, espressos, and everything in between. I was running around taking orders and serving customers, barely having time to think.

Around nine o'clock, the rush started to slow down. I was wiping down a table when Sarah called out to me.

"Maya, table six!"

I looked up and felt my heart sink. It was him. The rude guy from yesterday. He was sitting at the same table, wearing another expensive suit and staring at his laptop.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath.

"Good luck," Sarah whispered as I walked past her.

I took a deep breath and walked over to his table. Professional, I reminded myself. Just be professional.

"Good morning, Sir," I said with a forced smile. "What can I get for you today?"

He looked up at me, and I could see recognition in his eyes. "Oh, it's you again."

"Yes, Sir. I'm Maya. I'll be serving you today."

"Hmm," he said, looking back at his laptop. "Black coffee. And this time, try not to make it taste like dirt."

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I would regret. "Of course, Sir. One black coffee is coming up."

I walked back to the counter and started making his coffee. Tom had come in for his shift and was standing next to me.

"Who's that guy?" Tom asked, nodding toward table six.

"Just some rude customer," I said, measuring out the coffee grounds. "He was here yesterday and complained about everything."

"And he came back?" Tom said, raising his eyebrows. "That's weird. Usually, if people hate the service, they don't come back."

"Yeah, well, he's special," I said sarcastically.

I made his coffee exactly the same way I had made the second cup yesterday, the one he had said was "acceptable." I let it cool down for a minute before taking it over to him.

"Here you go, Sir," I said, placing the cup carefully on his table. "One black coffee."

He picked it up and took a sip. I held my breath, waiting for him to complain.

"It's fine," he said after a moment.

"Great," I said. "Let me know if you need anything else."

I started to walk away, but his voice stopped me.

"Actually, I'll have a croissant as well," he said. "Make sure it's fresh."

"Of course, Sir."

I went to the display case and picked out the freshest-looking croissant we had. I put it on a plate and brought it back to him.

"Thank you," he said, not looking up from his laptop.

Wait, did he just say thank you? That was the first polite thing he had said to me.

"You're welcome," I said, surprised.

I walked back to the counter where Sarah was making a latte for another customer.

"Did he just thank you?" Sarah asked quietly.

"I think so," I said. "Maybe he's in a better mood today."

"Or maybe he's not as terrible as we thought," Sarah suggested.

"No, he's still terrible," I said. "He just had one moment of basic human decency."

Sarah laughed. "Fair enough."

The rest of the morning went smoothly. The rude guy, whose name I still didn't know, stayed at table six for about two hours. Every once in a while, he would ask for a coffee refill, and I would bring it to him. He didn't complain once, which was shocking.

When he finally got up to leave, he walked over to the counter where I was standing.

"I'd like to pay," he said, pulling out his wallet.

"Your total is twelve dollars," I said, looking at the register.

He handed me a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change."

I stared at the money in my hand. Eight dollars was a pretty generous tip, especially for someone who had been so rude yesterday.

"Thank you," I said, surprised.

He nodded once and walked out the door without another word.

"Did he just tip you eight dollars?" Sarah said, leaning over to look at the money in my hand.

"Yeah," I said, still confused. "I don't understand this guy at all."

"Maybe he felt bad about yesterday," Sarah suggested.

"Maybe," I said, but I wasn't convinced. He didn't seem like the type of person who felt bad about anything.

---

The next few days followed the same pattern. Every morning around nine o'clock, the rude guy would come in and sit at table six. He would order a black coffee and sometimes a croissant or a muffin. He would work on his laptop for a couple of hours, occasionally asking for refills.

And every time he left, he would tip generously.

It was strange. He wasn't exactly friendly, but he wasn't as rude as he had been on that first day. He would say "please" and "thank you" now, which was an improvement. But he still had this cold, distant attitude that made it hard to talk to him.

"He's here again," Tom said on Thursday morning when the guy walked in.

"I know," I said. "Table six, like always."

"He's becoming a regular," Tom observed. "That's good for business, I guess."

"I guess," I said, grabbing my notepad and walking over to table six.

"Good morning, Sir," I said. "The usual?"

"Yes," he said, opening his laptop. "And add a blueberry muffin."

"Coming right up."

I had started to memorize how he liked his coffee. Not too hot, not too strong, and definitely no sugar or milk. I made it exactly how he preferred and brought it over with the muffin.

"Thank you," he said, still focused on his laptop screen.

"You're welcome."

As I turned to walk away, he spoke again.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I stopped and turned around, surprised. "Maya."

"Maya," he repeated, like he was testing how it sounded. "I'm Ethan."

"Nice to meet you, Ethan," I said, even though we had technically already met several times.

He nodded and went back to his work.

I walked back to the counter where Sarah was grinning at me.

"He asked for your name!" she said excitedly. "That's progress!"

"It doesn't mean anything," I said, shaking my head. "He's just being polite."

"Still," Sarah said. "He's warming up to you. I can tell."

"He's a customer, Sarah. That's all."

But deep down, I was curious. Why had Ethan started coming here every day? And why did he always sit at the same table? There were plenty of coffee shops in the city, so why this one?

I told myself it didn't matter. He was just another customer, even if he was better looking than most. I had more important things to worry about, like paying my rent and passing my classes.

But I couldn't help wondering about him.

---

On Friday afternoon, something different happened. Ethan came in at his usual time and ordered his usual coffee. But about thirty minutes into his work session, a woman walked into the coffee shop.

She was tall and beautiful, with long blonde hair and designer clothes. She looked like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. She walked straight over to table six and sat down across from Ethan.

"Ethan, we need to talk," she said loudly.

From where I was standing behind the counter, I could see Ethan's jaw tighten.

"Not here, Vanessa," he said quietly.

"Yes, here," Vanessa said, crossing her arms. "You've been avoiding my calls for a week."

"I've been busy," Ethan said, closing his laptop.

"Too busy for me?" Vanessa said, her voice getting louder. "We're supposed to be together, Ethan!"

Other customers were starting to stare. I looked over at Mr. Peterson, who was watching the scene with a frown on his face.

"Vanessa, please," Ethan said, his voice tight. "This is not the time or place."

"Then when is the time?" Vanessa demanded. "You never want to talk about us anymore!"

"That's because there is no us," Ethan said firmly. "I told you that two months ago."

Vanessa's face turned red. "You're going to regret this, Ethan. You can't just throw away what we had!"

"We didn't have anything," Ethan said, standing up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

He grabbed his laptop and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving Vanessa sitting there alone.

For a moment, Vanessa just sat there, looking shocked. Then she stood up and stormed out, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

The coffee shop was silent for a few seconds before everyone went back to their conversations.

"Well, that was dramatic," Tom said from behind the counter.

"Yeah," I said, still staring at the door where Ethan had left.

I wondered what that was all about. But then again, it was none of my business. Ethan was just a customer, and whatever drama he had in his personal life had nothing to do with me.

Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.