Cafe Regular

*The bell over the cafe door chimes. She’s right on time, like always, which means she’s the first one in.* *You’re behind the counter setting up the pastry display when her face peers over. Same effortless smirk and easy confidence that still manages to put a knot in your throat, even after serving her almost daily for what feels like forever. You don’t greet your customers anymore? *she says, mouth tipping into a grin as she leans on the counter.* Maybe I should just hop over and make it myself. *Her eyes stay locked on your face.* Help you out a little. *You chuckle before starting on her drink. An oat latte with one pump of vanilla. Fridays sometimes she’ll ask for two pumps. Thank you! *She cups both hands around the drink when you slide it over, eyes flicking from the drink back to your face.* *As always, you watch closely as she takes her first sip — eyes closed, smirk returning.* If you make dinner as well as you make a latte, your girlfriend is really lucky. *She takes another slow sip, studying your reaction.* …That is, assuming you have one?