Chapter Two

"Breathe in," Dave says.

I take a deep breath - the paper bag in front of my mouth scrunches up.

It looks funny. Okay, good. I feel a calmer now.

"Good, good." I hear him say. He probably saw me smiling. "Now breathe out."

I do as I was told - now the paper bag looks like it's about to explode.

Just like me.

Dave is such a good friend. Honestly, I'd be lost without him.

Which, yes, sounds pretty dramatic, given that I've only known him for a period of seven days or so but it's true.

Hm. You know what else? He's a pretty good therapist, too. He should take up some sort of internship at the Surreysets' Institution of Psychology instead of working hours here at the Not Just Your Cup of Tea café.

Then again, this place would pretty much crumble without him.

I feel something warm on my shoulder.

Ooh, a cup of - wait, what is it? Ahh, hot chocolate with caramel chunks & chocolate syrup & cocoa powder sprinkled over whipped cream, perched right on my shoulder.

The sure cure for... Well, whatever it is that I'm feeling.

Freaked, for one.

Troubled, another.

Definitely anxious.

& so, so many more confusing (confused! Add that to the list, please) feelings bubbling up inside.

"Thanks, SuperDave." I say gratefully as I breathed in the steam from the drink.

"SuperDave, huh?" he laughs as he walks back into the kitchen.

"Mmhmm." I blow the steam away, lapse in the delicious aroma one last time & take tiny sips, savouring each drop.

Oh God. If sins could ever take a form, this would be it.

"That good, eh?" I hear an amused voice.

I look up, feeling petrified, thinking that it's him.

It isn't.

Wait. Was that disappointment I felt?

No. No. Okay, focus.

Instead, I see a couple. One good-looking blonde boy with his arm around an equally good-looking blonde girl.

They sorta look like the ideal teenage couple - both of them being extremely attractive & what not.

The guy looks like the stereotypical jock, the Surreysets' Academy football team jacket on & the bulky armour of muscles giving us a hint whereas the girl is, simply put, gorgeous.

The type of gorgeous that would get said girl to be hated by others. That kind of gorgeous.

Feeling totally inadequate, I responded - 3 seconds later than any normal person would - with a wobbly smile.

"I'll just have the, um..." the guy peers at our menu behind me - or what Dave fondly calls it, Chalkie, the Chalkboard (yes, he's a very creative person). "- Mocha latte."

Any normal girl would say that he resembles some what of a Greek god but the blonde guy seems a little... Snide, if you ask me.

Something about him is just a little off.

"Well, I'll definitely have what ou're having." the blonde girl teases & laughs.

I laugh along with her - her laugh's infectious - & the guy follows suit.

Seems like she's one of those rare types - insanely (& naturally) pretty, inside & out.

After giving the orders to Dave, I walk back to the counter.

Suddenly, a monophonic version of Stairway to Heaven blast from Snide Guy's jeans pocket.

He glances at his phone's screen. "Sorry," Snide Guy says in a supposedly 'sheepish' way. He resembles like a horse, in my opinion. "I've gotta take this. Sorry, babe."

With a quick smooch on the blonde girl's cheek, he takes off to the door.

"Hey, babe! What's up?" I hear him say before he exists.

The blonde girl lets out a sigh & gives me something of a sad smile.

"What do you think of him?" she asks me abruptly, breaking the silence.

I look up from my Sudoku puzzle (hey, there is nothing wrong with Sudoku. In my defense, it's a slow day), trying to wipe the surprised look off of my face.

"I know, I know." she says laughingly. "Pretty random, huh? But just tell me. What do you think of him?"

"Honestly?" I ask, hesitating a little. Keep in mind that she is a total stranger - no, more importantly, a customer, not some chummy pal I knew from school.

She nods with total earnest.

"We-ll..." I stall, wishing that Dave would just hurry up with the drinks already.

Finally, I voice out my opinion of her date (you know, the one where I called him Mr. Snide Guy. Not about him resembling a horse).

The blonde girl sighs again.

"& you're probably wondering what I'm doing with him, right?"

Not knowing any other suitable response, I nod.

"So am I. I mean, okay, well, duh, that sounded dumb."

I open my mouth to assure her that that didn't 'sound dumb' but she cut me off (unintentionally).

"It's just... Boys from my school, they date me only for three reasons. Ready? Okay. It's either so he - the guy, I mean - could get a chance to : One. Hook up witht his incredibly hot girl - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so full of myself. It's just that I've heard it myself, when I was walking behind this-" she shakes her head & shrugs, "Yeah, never mind. I just heard. Or two. To hook up with this incredibly rich girl & - this is the popular choice - three. To hook up with this incredibly hot, rich girl."

(Just wondering, did you notice that I hadn't mentioned any of my responses so far? Well, that's because I didn't get a chance to respond. Not that I'm complaining.)

"... I mean, God, & peopl ethink that it's just us teenage girls that's superficial! What about the boys?" she lets out a small frustrated scream.

Finally, she takes in a deep breath to re-fill her lungs, probably due to low air capacity.

Just as sudden, she lets out a small laugh. "You probably think I'm mad, don't you?"

"It depends what you mean by 'mad'."

Oh, damned. I have this awful habit of talking without thinking.

She's the customer, Sheila. The customer. She pays.

Ooh, okay. If that doesn't scare you, think of your boss, Sheila. Mr. Tang.

I shudder.

Great. I've just remembered that I'm not alone.

I look at the blonde girl across me, bracing myself to be taken away to the asylum.

She gives me a weird look before...

Breaking into peals of laughter.

I cringe.

"Oh, no, no, no." the girl says, noticing my evolving into part-tomato. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just..." she takes in another deep breath. "You're funny."

Aw, heck with Mr. Tang.

It couldn't be such a crime to befriend a customer, now, could it?

"So I've been told," I smile at the girl.

She returns the smile.

Right on cue, both gentlemen - sorry, gentleman (that's Dave). Snide Guy doesn't count for obvious reasons - walk into the café.

"One mocha latte, one Sheila special." Dave says, placing the orders on the counter in front of the pair.

I spun around & glare at Dave.

Sheila Special? I mouth at him, bewildered.

He shrugs & gives a silent laugh when I threw him my glare of throwing daggers at him.

Counting one to five in my head - in Italian, mind - I take in a deep breath, stretch my lips wide enough for a smile & focus my attention back to the two.

If a passerby took a glance at them, one would think that they're having a good time.

But if you look closer, you'd notice how sad the girl seems & the guy... Well, I feel like throwing a punch at his nose. He looks so smug.

Ooh, I better focus my anger somewhere else or I'd most likely be arrested for assault.

(Not like he doesn't deserve it...)

No! No, no, no! Bad Sheila. Okay, time to grab that Sudoku book & finish that page 67.

Phew.

Somewhere in the back of my head, a thought suddenly pops into my mind.

There might be such a thing called Sudoku Therapy. Seriously.

I hear someone clearing their throat.

I look up & see the grinning couple of blondes.

"Thanks," the guy says & after shelling out the eight bucks, he winks at me.

I'd like to take this time to say : Ew. I have this sudden urge to take a shower.

He then walks to the coat stand & 'chivalrously' take hers along.

Before the girl left, she slips me five bucks beneath my Sudoku book. "Thanks so much. You know, you're a really great listener."

She smiles at me - I think that that was the warmest, most genuine smile I have ever received in my entire life - & leaves the café doors with that slimeball.

"What are you sighing about?" I hear Dave say from behind.

"Nothing. It's just..." I pause, wondering how to form the next sentence without sounding insane. "I'm so grateful to be blessed with average looks instead of jaw-dropping beauty."

Dave gives me a Look.

One of those looks people can never describe in words & can only be experienced.

He mutters something under his breath but I didn't catch anything.

Before I could even ask what he just said, he walks back into the kitchen, looking a little... Red in the face?

Chapter One

"One cappucino. Regular. De-caff. Hold the milk, hold the cream." a girl says sharply to me.

I raise an eyebrow & say, with absolutely no hint of skepticism whatsoever (I try my best), "So you just want the coffee with nothing in it but water?"

The girl brushes off my question & snaps, "Hurry up, would you? There are, like, plenty of people waiting to order."

I look over her shoulder. No one's behind her, except her little chihuahua standing patiently by her pink suede boots.

Erm, the owner's, I mean. Not the chihuahua's.

But I rather doubt that it - or she, if the bow on the dog's head indicates anything - is going to order anything on our menu, unless if it includes raw red meat.

Which I'm pretty sure we don't have.

It's sort of a slow day, something I'm starting to learn is normal around here. Yet I can't help feeling a little - just a leetle - disappointed.

Suddenly, I hear my dear manager, Mr. Tang screaming in my head.

"Just give the customers what they want! They pay. As long as they're happy, we're happy."

& Mr. Tang's never wrong (I guess).

I acknowledge Ms. Suede Boots' oh-so-kind words with a nod of my head.

Ring!

"One cap., hold everything but the water!" I say loudly.

"Got it!" Dave, my co-coffee person, says loudly back.

Dave's a good guy, stereotypical barista boy he may be, with the sandy brown hair & pierced ear.

But still, a good guy.

During my first week as an employee of this café, instead of being all on the high-horse & taking advantage of me, Dave actually showed me around.

& also there was that day - what was it? Saturday? Friday? - when I broke down & he comforted me & told me...

Anyway, lets not get off track.

I think I've just heard a little chortle from Dave.

After Ms. Suede had slapped the cash in my hand, she walks off huffily, not even bothering to collect the change, which I suppose is one of her many ways she disguises her little acts of kindness.

Suddenly, I hear the trademark sound of the door.

I look up.

Hellooo, there. I see two boys - both very tall, I notice - walking into the café, looking clueless & completely lost.

Must be their first time here.

I can't blame them, really, for looking so awe-struck with this place.

True, it's not one of the 'It Teen' hangouts of the land but it's definitely the homiest.

I mean, come on. Can you honestly name me another café you know of which serves a wide range of exclusive coffee (& a few non-coffee) flavours of all kinds at a bistro?

Not to mention that we have tons of books at one corner & all of our furniture are actually comfortable, unlike those at Coffee Bean (them with their plastic chairs & stiff leather armchairs).

& we also have live performances from local bands & sometimes volunteers from the customers. Hence, the gorgeous piano on the stage.

(As long as they agree to the terms & conditions. I know that seems kind of lame but our manager enforced it ever since that dude with the long hair nearly flashed at the audience the minute we switched on the spotlight.)

So there. Take that, Coffee Bean. Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

(About our café's awesomeness. Not the, you know, flasher. Although, come to think of it, they should be afraid of him, too.)

"'cuse me? Hellooooo?" a guy says while waving his hand in front of my face.

"Huh? Oh, sorry." I say sheepishly. I take in a deep breath, stretch my lips wide enough for a smile & begin the protocol greeting, "Hi, welcome to Not Just Your Cup of Tea café. We serve more than just a cup of tea. What would your order be today?"

"Hey there," the guy says with a flash of his smile.

Oh. God.

I instantly knew. He's one of those types - you know, the ladies' man (which, yes, I know, sounds ridiculous given that he's only sixteen - well, he looks like my age. I'm not quite sure - but hey. Never underestimate the 16 year olds & above).

I mean, it all fits. That natural never-been-whitened teeth that goes so well with the sculpted jaw. Ooh, not to mention the whole blonde hair, blue eyes set, too.

After a minute of total nothing-ness, seeing as I didn't respond to his oh-so-dazzling smile, he says in a flat tone, "One latte, dark."

"& you?" I ask his friend, who's standing besides Mr. Ladies' Man.

If there's ever such a thing as the existence of your complete opposite in almost every single way, these two guys are living proof.

To begin with, one guy seems totally confident whereas the other completely lacks confidence.

Hm. Have I seen this guy from somewhere? I never forget a face.

(Sadly, my memory doesn't work as well with names.)

"I'll just have the same as him." Mr. Not Exactly Ladies' Man nods in his friend's direction. "Thanks," he gives me a quick smile & just as he's about to turn back to his friend, he looks back at me.

I swear I heard a crick, he moved his head so fast.

He opens his mouth to say something but probably decided not to, giving a shake of his head.

After giving Dave the orders, I head back to the two guys. 

"Hey, man. Are you alright?" I hear Mr. Ladies' Man ask as he slides down onto a stool in front of me.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine." Mr. Not Exactly (lets just call him that for now) mumbles, plopping himself onto the stool beside him.

I stretch, stifle a yawn & look around to find something to occupy myself with.

(Do keep in mind that today isn't exactly a busy day for us, given that there's probably less than 10 people in our café right about now.)

Aha, glasses! Not just glasses. Just-from-the-washer glasses.

Okay, I'll just grab some of those & dry them off.

Balancing the tray of wet glasses & cloth on one hand, I return to the countertop, just in case those guys needed anything else (&, okay, in faint hopes that I'd get a good tip. They look like good tippers).

"-but she's..." Mr. Not Exactly sighs.

"Look, man. Get a grip. Alright, so what if it's been 3 years? That just means you gotta get out on the field more!"

Mr. Not Exactly gives him a Look. Not exactly a pleasant one, too, I might add. "My girlfriend-"

"Ex-" his friend chimes.

If looks could kill, Mr. Ladies' Man over there would be on the floor right now, with an outline of white chalk & 'do not cross the line' tape bordering his corpse, just like from CSI.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"Don't be. So what if my girlfriend of 3 years jsut dumped me two weeks ago, right? I should date more girls. That's what you're trying to say. It's alright."

"It is?" Mr. Ladies' Man perks up.

Hoo boy.

"Of course it isn't!" Mr. Not Exactly's voice went louder by the last two words. "What's wrong with you?!"

Ring!

The guys & I lok up. I belatedly realise that their drinks are on hold, not to mention Ms. Suede's.

In one swift move, I quickly serve up the two black lattes.

"Thanks," the guys say in unison without looking up.

"Hey, man." I hear Mr. Ladies' Man say. "I'm sorry. It's just... You can't just be hung over one girl. You're only 17! There are more fishes in this sea."

Thank you for making me & the rest of womankind feel so special.

"You're right, I guess..." Mr. Not Exactly mutters without any enthusiasm.

"Two weeks is a long time, you know."

"3 years is a long time, too, but that doesn't matter, does it?" Mr. Not Exactly says bitterly.

Silence.

The guys resume sipping their coffee in typical guy manner - loud & oblivious.

I take this as an opportunity & scrutinise the features of Mr. Not Exactly.

He looks familiar. I know I've seen him from somewhere...

That dark hair, those green eyes. I've seen them before.

But where?

"Hello? God, this service is so bad."

I blink. Oh, joys of joy! It's my dear friend, Ms. Suede Boots.

"Sorry, sorry." I say while bowing again & again. Then, I hand her 'coffee + water' beverage.

(Hm. Note-to-self : Ask Mr. Tang whether we could name that drink the 'Suede Boots' drink.)

Ignoring my musings, she rolls her eyse at me & left huffily, ala Ms. Suede style.

Returning back to those guys - who still aren't done with their drinks - & my almost-gleaming glasses.

"-whatever, so maybe Janet should've been slightly more sensitive that-"

"It's over." Mr. Not Exactly cuts him off. "Over. Lets just... Drop it."

Silence again (minus the occasional sounds of slurp!s).

"Be right back," Mr. Not Exactly says abruptly & asks me where the lavatory is.

I point out the directions & he takes off.

The minute he disappeared, I face Mr. Ladies' Man. "I know it's none of my business but... Is he alright?"

He raises an eyebrow & smiles. "What do you think?"

He takes a sip of his coffee. "Being dumped by your girlfriend who you've been with for three years is one thing. Being dumped by said girlfriend on your third anniversary is another."

Woah.

I nearly drop one of the glasses.

What a b-

"That bitch," he mutters under his breath, more for his ears than mine.

I keep quiet. Not exactly my place to comment on a person I barely know.

But still. On their anniversary?

Geez.

"Between you & me," he leans closer. I lean closer, too, more out of reflex than anything else. "I'm pretty glad they're over. She treats him like a door mat. He deserves better." Mr. Ladies' Man says, pauses to take another sip of his drink & looks around.

"When he gets back, tell him I'll be waiting outside. Thanks." Leaving me a dollar's tip (HURRAH! Didn't I tell you these two gentlemen look like good tippers?), he pushes the stool back, takes his coat off the coat hanger & walks out of the door.

Right on cue, Mr. Not Exactly arrives.

"Hey, where'd he go?" he says out loud.

"He left."Mr. Not Exactly looks at me. "He said he'll be waiting outside."

Mr. Not So plops himself down into a stool, looks down in his cup & smiles.

I'm sorry but that's either a sign of depression or total lunacy.

I wouldn't know, I haven't met a total depressed or crazy person before.

(Yes, yes. I'm thankful.)

"Tough day?" I ask quietly, looking down as I continue drying off the next glass.

"Yeah, you could say that." he says in the same quiet tone.

Another moment of silence.

But it's... It's actually a comfortable sort, not those awkwards kinds you'd often find yourself in & wish that a hole would just appear below you & swallow you up.

Not that I'd know of.

With a final sip, I hear Mr. Not Exactly say, "Thanks." with a smile.

A genuine smile.

"For what?" I ask dumbly.

Because that's how Sheila Williams roll - by ruining nice, Hallmark-y moments with dumb, rhetorical questions spilt from her mouth.

But apparently, Mr. Not Exactly doesn't mind.

"Not everything needs a reason."

With another one of his small smiles, he gets up &-

He looks over his shoulders & says, "See you around, Sheila."

Then he leaves.

& just like that, I remember who he is.

"Um, hello? I told you, no cream. Can I have, like, another one?" Ms. Suede demands.

Her chihuahua barks in agreement.

God.