Work Text:
I
One of the only perks of having a seminar at eight in the morning is the quietness of the coffee shop Erin stops by every morning. The bell above the door jingles and comforting warmth spreads across her face as she enters. It’s 7.15 am. Erin does like to take her time to enjoy her coffee, but she had never been in here this early before. The barista is standing with her back turned to Erin, and appears to be cleaning some machinery.
“Hi, welcome to Ghost Town Coffee, what can I get ya?” the barista asks without turning around.
“Um, hi, um, I’d like a double espresso, please,” Erin says, and the barista finally turns around. Erin blushes instantly. It’s the barista she’s been crushing on for three months now. Unfortunately for Erin’s crush, the barista is usually the one making the coffee and not the one handing them out. She can only be admired from a distance usually. Oh, and how Erin admires the goofy blonde woman and her eccentric dance moves.
The barista leans on the counter with her arms stretched out, trying to appear taller. “Would you like some whipped cream with that?” the barista asks, and she winks as she picks up a paper cup. Erin shakes her head. “That’ll be $2.50.”
Erin starts her search for the correct amount of money. It falls silent in the coffee shop apart from the soft hum of machines and the clinking of coins in her wallet.
“Can I get a name for that double espresso?” asks the barista once Erin has handed the money over.
“Erin. My name. It’s, um, Erin.” Erin feels her face heat up and she quickly averts her gaze to the ground. This means she can’t see the barista looking incomprehensibly at her, and mouthing something vaguely akin to ‘Erin’ under her breath.
The barista gets to work and Erin looks up through her eyelashes to look at her. She’s even prettier in the morning light. Her blonde curls are pulled back into a messy bun at the back of her head, and she’s wearing a black watch, one that Erin has never noticed before, around her wrist. Her dark green apron compliments her pale skin and blue eyes. A soft smile graces her lips. Erin’s crush is multiplying with every second that passes.
“A double espresso, no whipped cream, for Elaine,” says the barista as she sets the coffee down onto the counter.
Erin quickly spies around but yes, the coffee shop is definitely empty apart from her. She figures the barista must have misheard her and she awkwardly shuffles over to grab her coffee.
“Thank you,” she says shyly. Erin is, of course, way too awkward to actually correct the barista, so instead, she smiles and makes her way over to one of the tables by the window.
The barista, whose name is still a mystery to Erin, pulls out a rag and starts cleaning the spotless counter. “So, Lena, is it? Why are you here so early?”
Once again, Erin checks to see if there is anyone else, but she really is the only customer. “I have a seminar at 8, and I need coffee to thoroughly wake me up for that level of commitment.”
She gives a small laugh at Erin’s joke. “D’you go to MIT too?” the barista asks, giving up on cleaning the counter and now just leaning on it as she focuses on Erin.
Erin carefully takes a sip of her smoking hot coffee before replying. “Yes, um, what are you majoring in?”
The barista tilts her head back and smiles dopily. “Oh, lil ol’ me? Nuclear engineering. One of these days, I’m going to invent a coffee machine that will make the perfect brew just by a person talking to it.”
Erin blinks confusedly. “Wouldn’t you lose your job?”
A loud clanging from underneath the counter interrupts their conversation. Holtzmann disappears for a second, makes some more clanging noises, and pops back up. “Oh yes, definitely.” The doorbell jingles. “But it will be so worth it. What are you majoring in?” Instead of replying, Erin looks pointedly at the businessman who just entered.
“Oh, it’s alright, Gary here can wait a moment, can’t ya, Gary?” the barista says, leaning over the counter to slap the important-looking man’s shoulder, but he ducks away before she actually manages to hit him.
“Jillian,” he says tiredly, “I’ve said this many times before, please call me Rorke. My name is not Gary.”
“Alriiiiiiiiight. What can I get ya today, Gary, dude?” Rorke rubs his hands over his face and shakes his head. “Just- a cappuccino, please.”
Jillian the barista wiggles her fingers at Erin and gets to work. After Rorke, the people start pouring in and Jillian sends her a regretful look from behind the swarmed counter. Better luck next time, Erin thinks to herself.
II
The next week, Erin does appear to be lucky. The coffee shop is deserted when she enters. “Good morning,” she greets cheerfully as the doorbell jingles above her.
Jillian turns around and gives a toothy grin. “A very good morning to you too, Ellen! What can I get ya today?” She immediately grabs a cup and a marker to write it down.
Erin is blushing too much to correct the barista. “I’d like a double espresso with whipped cream and an apple-cinnamon muffin, please.” She has come here many times before, and knows what to order by now. It took trial and error to discover which pastry her stomach could, and which pastries her stomach could not handle early in the morning.
After jotting down Erin’s order on the cup, and putting away the money, Jillian stares at her for a good thirty seconds instead of preparing her order.
Erin self-consciously starts patting at her face, fearing a toothpaste stain. “I’m sorry, is there something on my face?” she asks nervously.
Jillian literally jolts awake from her thoughts. “Oh, no, I was just wondering what you’re majoring in. You never told me last time you came in.”
“Oh! Well, I’m majoring in Physics. Particle Physics, to be exact.”
Jillian drops the still empty cup she had been holding. “Physics? Your lab bench, or mine?” She gives a filthy wink and quickly bends to pick up the cup.
Erin flushes deep scarlet, and desperately searches her brain for a physics-related pickup line. Unfortunately, she and Abby had held a ‘dirty pickup lines’-competition three days prior to this conversation and she only knew filthy ones. Although Jillian looked like she’d appreciate it, Erin decided to play it safe and not say anything at all, afraid of embarrassing herself.
The cute barista places her apple-cinnamon muffin on the counter and gets to work on her coffee. Erin nervously plucks at the pastry, still whacking at her brain to come up with a good response to Jillian’s flirting. The only her response her brain can come up with, unfortunately, is an excited screech that will actually make her seem like a crazy person.
“And that’s one double espresso with whipped cream! Booyah,” Jillian says out of nowhere, slamming the cup onto the counter. Erin stares thoughtfully at the concoction. Jillian tilts her head to the right. “I realise now it’s more whipped cream than espresso. I wanted to give you a lil extra because I think you’re really sweet. But, um, it kind of got out of hand, I suppose. D’you even like whipped cream that much?” Jillian awkwardly rubs the back of her neck.
“Of course I do!” scoffs Erin. She then carefully lifts the paper cup and takes a sip. “It’s delicious, Jillian. Thank you.” The barista’s face slightly falters when Erin says her name.
“How-How’d you-Why’d you call me Jillian?” the cute barista stutters out.
Once again, Erin feels a blush spread across her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, isn’t Jillian your actual name? It’s just that, the man who came in here last week called you Jillian so I guess I just sort of assumed that it was your name? I’m so sorry, it was awfully presumptuous of me-”
The barista waves her hand carelessly, effectively shutting Erin up. “Hey, don’t worry, everything’s good in the hood! It’s just that I let the cute girls call me Holtz.”
“Holtz?” Erin repeats incredulously. She was so embarrassed about her mistake, the attempt at flirting went completely over her head.
“Yep. My surname’s Holtzmann, and Jillian is too girly for me. So, I go by Holtz, it sounds way tougher. Cool peeps get to call me Holtz. Uncool peeps don’t, they get the Jillian-treatment.”
“Holtz,” Erin repeats it a couple of times, the name rolling easily of the tongue, “I like it. Suits you.”
“Thanks,” Holtz replies, and then she smiles a cheesy grin. “Holtzmann, Radio times. Why do you only come here so early on Tuesdays?” She pretends to hand over a microphone.
Erin chuckles softly in response to the barista’s antics, and leans nonchalantly against the counter. She stirs her coffee. “I really only have an early start on Tuesdays. I spend most of my time in the lab, writing out equations and researching, but I have a seminar on Spanish, every Tuesday morning.”
The cute barista is confused. “So you’re majoring in Particle Physics, and you decide to learn Spanish… why?”
The Physics major blushes and chuckles to herself. “Well, people always say that you can only be good at one thing. So even though I’m a beta-oriented student, I want to prove that doesn’t mean I cannot learn a language.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” asks Holtzmann with a knowing glint in her eyes.
Erin groans and drops her head onto the counter. “It’s so tiring! My Spanish assignments take longer than my Kinematics and Dynamics essay- and the essay is about motion laws in space! I know nothing about space.”
Holtz compassionately pats her shoulder. “Sweet, sweet Elsa. Let it go.”
The brunette lifts her head from the counter to look the barista dead in the eyes. “Really? Frozen?”
“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit it. But, what I want to say is you are a scientist. You have nothing to prove to the world. Except for the validation of certain motion laws here on earth - or in space, of course. But, if anyone ever makes you feel like you’ve got something to prove, put those motion laws into action. Throw a rock at them!” Holtzmann pauses for a moment. “Or a brick. You know what, I could design you a little toy that would do at least ten times more damage than a rock. It would be slightly nuclear, but-”
Erin shushes her. “No nuclear weapons, please.” Holtzmann rolls her eyes. “Alright,” she says in a funny voice, but Erin could tell she wasn’t actually annoyed. She probably gets that a lot, Erin figured.
“Well, I should probably get to Spanish uno-zero-uno,” she says.
The cute barista winks at her. “See you next week, Elena.”
“It’s Erin,” Erin corrects her, shooting Holtzmann finger guns as she leaves the coffeeshop.
III
“A very good morning to you, Eliza! Tell me, how are your sisters?” chirps the barista as Erin enters the coffee shop.
“Eliza? That’s… not even close,” Erin says with a small chuckle, playing it off as a joke. But somehow, it stings that the barista can’t seem to remember her name. It’s not even a Starbucks.
Holtzmann leans her elbow on the counter and rests her head on her fist. “Angelica?” she tries again.
Erin shakes her head.
“Peggy!” Holtzmann shouts, but when Erin once again shakes her head, she frowns. An awkward silence falls, and just when Erin is about to break it by ordering, Holtzmann shouts: “I’ve got it, I’ve got it!”
Eagerly, Erin takes a step closer, an expectant look on her face, which falls when- “Margaret.”
Holtzmann is looking mighty pleased with herself, but Erin just shakes her head. “Holtzmann, you are incorrigible,” she says laughing.
The barista shrugs in reply and strikes a pose. “Work!”
Erin can only look at her, completely in awe with the woman before her. A nuclear engineer who makes Hamilton references? She’s got to be the one.
“So, you do get to know my name, but I don’t get to know yours? Tut tut, that’s not how it works.”
“My name is still Erin, as far as I know.”
Holtzmann grabs a black marker and squints at the coffee cup. “Erin,” she repeats. She looks at Erin. “Suits you.”
Erin smiles shyly at her and when Holtz winks once again, she quickly averts her gaze to the pastries. “Are those… Christmas-themed cupcakes?” Erin asks, eyeing the cupcakes in question incredulously, as if they had personally wronged her.
“Um, yeah,” Holtzmann, who has been staring at her, replies vaguely. “What have they done to you?”
Erin shrugs. “It’s just that, it’s barely December? Thanksgiving was like, a week ago.”
Holtz prepares her coffee as Erin keeps glaring at the cupcakes. “So, I take it you’re not a Christmas-enthusiast?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t understand all the excitement leading up to it, I guess. I’ve never properly celebrated it.”
The coffee is dropped. “What!?” shouts Holtzmann. She jumps over the counter and takes Erin into her arms, giving her a hug. “Oh, you poor, poor child, Christmas is one of the best days of the year!”
Erin is shocked. It’s almost too much, experiencing so many things at the same time: Holtzmann’s hand stroking her back, her hair tickling her cheek, her warm breath on her neck, the smell of cinnamon and leather and vanilla and coffee and something she couldn’t quite place, something familiar somehow, something from now on irrevocably Holtzmann.
As sudden as the hug started, it ends. Holtzmann clumsily climbs back over the counter and Erin is left standing dumbfounded.
“So, I sort of dropped your coffee,” says the barista conversationally once she’s back on her feet.
Erin nods. “It’s fine,” she says faintly.
“Maybe it’s a good thing, You never said what you wanted so I was just cooking something up for you.” Holtzmann scrunches her nose and ducks down. Presumably to clean up the spilt coffee, thinks Erin.
Whilst Holtz is cleaning, Erin stares at the cupcakes once again. “Holtzmann?” she asks tentatively. An affirming grunt is heard from behind the counter and seconds later her head pops up. “Could I get a peppermint-mocha cupcake and a ‘Frostied’ snowman cookie?”
Holtzmann jumps in the air and does a little dance. “You know what, how about this? You have never celebrated Christmas, right?” she says, pointing at Erin.
“Um-”
“And I love Christmas. I love it. So, so, hear me out, okay? Hear me out. Next week, when you come in here – you always come in on Tuesdays, so next week, we’re going to celebrate Christmas together!”
Erin is flabbergasted. “You’d do that for me?”
Holtzmann smiles cheerily. “Yes, of course! Anything for my favourite costumer!” She winks. “I’m your favourite costumer?”
Erin asks in amazement. She can’t quite believe it. She’s her favourite barista’s favourite!
“Shh, don’t tell the others,” the barista replies, laying a finger over her lips. Suddenly her face falls. “Wait, we can’t celebrate Christmas next week.”
“Why not? Do you not have a shift next Tuesday? It’s no bother, really, I come here every day-” Holtzmann grabs her cupcake and her cookie and hands them over. “No, we can’t celebrate Christmas next week because it’s 6 December!”
Erin frowns and bites off Frosty’s head. “Is that the unspoken rule of Christmas? No pre-celebrating on 6 December?”
“No, 6 December is another great day of the year- Sankt Nikolaus!”
Another bite of the cookie and Erin’s frown deepens. “You’re French?”
Holtzmann rolls her eyes. “My grandparents are from Cologne, Germany. It’s quite close to The Netherlands and Belgium, where they avidly celebrate Sankt Nikolaus - or well, Sinterklaas.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Erin admits.
“It’s a lot like Christmas: old white dude with a beard judges kids and gives them presents, only with the addition of a foot fetish.”
“Do I want to know?” Erin asks before shoving the remains of Frosty into her mouth.
Holtzmann shrugs. “Kids put their shoes in front of the chimney and Sankt Nikolaus puts a present in their shoe. But you do have to leave a carrot for his horse. And behave well.”
Erin opens her mouth to say something, but Holtzmann interrupts her. “Your coffee. What would you like?”
“A double espresso with whipped cream,” Erin says.
Holtzmann winks. “The usual,” she says. After quickly penning her name down on the cup, which is quite useless, as the coffee shop is abandoned, Holtzmann gets to work.
Wait, the usual? So she does remember? Maybe it’s her interpretation of the Starbucks joke, to completely misname her every time Erin comes in? Or perhaps she just has a knack for remembering people’s orders, not their names. Still, it seems odd, considering Holtzmann does recognise her every Tuesday morning.
She’s shaken from her thoughts when Holtzmann hands Erin her cup. Instead of her name, Holtzmann had drawn a mitre. Erin frowns.
“It’s right on top of Sankt Nikolaus’ head,” she provides helpfully.
Erin smiles. “So, we’ll celebrate Christmas in two weeks?”
“Yep! And don’t forget to bring an extra shoe next week, who knows, Sankt Nikolaus might pay us a visit before he goes back to Spain…” Holtzmann winks.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Erin grins.
“Viel Glück für Deine spanischen Klasse!”
Erin stops in the middle of the doorway and turns around. “Wait, you speak Spanish too?”
But before Holtzmann can reply, she’s stepped through the doorway. She waves excitedly at Holtzmann as she walks past the big windows, nearly bumping into someone, but not even that could stop the bounce in the brunette’s step. Holtzmann smiles to herself. What a cutie.
IV
Erin spent the whole week thinking of a good pick up line. Erin was a particle physicist, or well, almost, so how hard could it be, for god’s sake? Quite hard, it turns out. They were either too dirty or too lame or too dorky. Erin didn’t dare to ask Abby, her lab partner as well as her best friend, and dejectedly makes her way to the coffee shop. To make matters worse, it’s raining.
“There she is,” exults Holtzmann as Erin crosses the threshold, “my favourite costumer!”
Erin gives her a half-hearted smile as she pulls her hood off her head. “Hi there,” she says. Erin immediately berates herself for coming up with such a lame reply. There’s literally no way she could ever convince the cute barista to go on a date with her.
Erin has been thinking about it for a while now. Whenever she’s not theorising, she’s thinking of Holtzmann, and imagining what it would be like if Erin actually had the guts to ask her out on a date. Perhaps the moments she spends thinking about Holtzmann were even more theorised than her physics equations.
“Ruh-roh, looks like it’s raining outside.” Holtzmann says, eyeing Erin wistfully up and down. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up. Let me tell you a secret: I make a kickass hot chocolate. And my favourite customer, I would give an extra large dollop of whipped cream and some marshmallows on top. How does that sound?”
Erin’s eyes have glazed over a bit while imagining the concoction. “That sounds positively delicious, Holtzy.”
The barista smiles at her, which Erin nearly melts at, and gets to work. Erin is perfectly aware that her crush is really getting out of hand now. She’s glad the barista suggested her order, because otherwise Erin would not have been able to get a word out. Holtzmann was in an especially good mood today, Erin noticed. The blonde had started humming whilst pouring hot milk into the paper cup.
“Would that be all?” asks Holtzmann uncharacteristically professional.
“That depends,” replies Erin, “do you have any Saint Nicholas-themed pastries?”
In reply, the barista kicks her leg up in the air. “You remembered!”
Holtzmann is so excited that she remembered, that Erin feels a bit sorry for the engineer. Obviously, she wasn’t used to people actually listening to what she had to say.
“Of course I did! I actually did some research on it, too. Did you know that our Santa Claus is derived from the Dutch name for Saint Nicholas, Sinterklaas?”
The barista grins widely and nods her head. “Sankt Nikolaus is the best. It’s almost as good as Christmas.”
“So, you’ve celebrated both Christmas and Saint Nicholas growing up?” asks Erin interestedly. Her heart is hammering in her chest. She’s so excited to hear something about the blonde’s past, it can almost be classified as ‘stalkerish’. Or at least, obsessive. Erin decides to play it cool by browsing through the pastries once again.
“Nah, I stopped celebrating Sankt Nikolaus when I moved to America. I hadn’t really celebrated Christmas before, so I was very excited to go all out when I moved here. See something you like?” Holtzmann adds flirtily. Erin hadn’t even noticed that she had stopped browsing and had instead been staring at the barista.
Erin blushes furiously and quickly diverts her attention back to the pastries.
“I’m sorry we don’t have any 6 December themed pastries. But, we do have these lovely petits fours with little Santas on them! And look, it’s Rudolph!”
She critically assesses the pastries that Holtzmann is pointing out. “Y’know, I don’t think that’s Rudolph. I think it might actually be a penguin.”
Holtz squints her eyes at the aforementioned pastry. “I think you might be right. But hey, it’s not my fault I can’t wear my glasses while I’m at work.”
Erin rejoices at the fact she’s probably about to learn another personal fact about the engineer. “Why aren’t you allowed-”
“They’re special prescription glasses. I have photophobia, so to make the lighting less harsh, the glasses are yellow. Also, I can’t read that well without them as you may have noticed.” Holtzmann shrugged. “This is also why I take the morning shifts. No sun to bother me now. I win.”
Erin shakes her head. “I still don’t understand why you’re not allowed to wear them at work.”
“Oh. The manager says I look ‘goofy’ wearing them.”
She snorts in reply. “Well, that’s stupid. You’re goofy without glasses, too,” says Erin jokily.
Holtzmann cracks a smile and puts another marshmallow on top of the big pile that’s already forming on top of her hot chocolate. “And because you’re so nice, you get an extra marshmallow.”
“You’re too kind,” says Erin as she grabs the hot chocolate and hands her a five dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
Before Holtzmann can reply, Erin’s phone bleeps. She recognises the sound as an incoming email. This could only mean one thing. Agitatedly, she checks her mail, and yes, her Spanish class is indeed cancelled. From what she understood of the mail (which had of course been sent in Spanish), her teacher had been attacked by chickens. She should probably just give up on Spanish.
“You don’t seem too happy about your boyfriend texting you,” observes Holtzmann. Erin had been considering what to do with the extra time, but the ‘boyfriend’ comments shook her from her thoughts.
“I don’t have a boyfriend. My Spanish class is cancelled.”
“Whaaaaat? You don’t have boyfriend?” Holtzmann asks.
The brunette rolls her eyes in reply. “Men are easily intimidated by women who are more intelligent than they are. And the men in my field aren’t exactly good material.”
“Not any man is good material, if you ask me,” comments Holtz.
Erin’s heart skips a beat. Oh my god, the barista likes girls too. She takes a deep breath. Okay, Erin, stay cool. “So you’re gay?”
With a wide smile, she plants her hands on her hips. “I’m an out and proud lesbian, oh yeah.” Before she can say anything else, the doorbell rings and a short woman enters. “Abigail!” exults Holtzmann.
The woman waves cheerily at Holtzmann and then her eyes land upon Erin. “Erin? What are you doing here?”
“Abby, this is my favourite costumer! She comes here every day, but on Tuesday mornings, she’s here extra early. Happy Sankt Nikolaus!” Holtzmann answers.
Erin is still frozen in place, unable to speak. She sort of wants to cry. Of course Abby knows about her crush on the barista, but she had assumed it to be the hunky Australian: now Abby knew it was in fact Holtzmann, a woman, and oh my god, what would she say?
“Happy Sankt Nikolaus Holtzy!” Abby says, her eyes not leaving Erin’s. Erin smiles a bit unsurely at her, and that seems to snap Abby out of it. “Can I get a hazelnut hot chocolate? Erin, grab us a table over by the fireplace, would you?”
Erin gulps and refuses to meet either woman’s eyes as she reluctantly makes her way over to the fireplace. She notes it’s about as far away from the counter as possible. This cannot be good.
She cautiously sits down and crosses her legs. To keep her nerves at bay, she scoops some marshmallows out of her hot chocolate. Abby makes her way over and is sitting next to her in less than two minutes. Erin takes a deep breath. “Listen, Abby I can explain-”
“Explain what?” Abby asks confused. “Oh, you mean, tell me all about your little crush on Holtzy over there?” She waggles her eyebrows as Erin hides her head in her hands. “You know you could have told me, right? I’m loyal. I wouldn’t abandon you! You know that.”
Erin nervously fiddles with her straw. “It’s just that… I don’t know. I knew you would accept it but still somehow I thought that telling you would be stupid?”
Abby compassionately places her hand on her knee. “Erin, you are stupid,” she says sweetly. “Academically, you’re super smart, but you have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”
Erin sniffs. “I really am sorry, Abs. I just didn’t know how to tell you,” she admits a bit sheepishly. How do you even tell your best friend since high school that you like girls? What if Abby had thought that the only reason Erin became friends with her was because Erin fancied her? She had never told anyone about her sexuality, fearing their reaction. Abby is the first to know.
And Abby, being the supportive friend, as ever, just rolls her eyes and pulls Erin in for a big hug. “Now, tell me everything about Holtzmann.”
And Erin does. She tells her about the first time she came in the coffee shop when Holtzmann was there. The hunky Australian guy had taken her order but Holtzmann had prepared it. She hadn’t gotten her name right since that first time, but Erin adored it.
“So what you’re trying to say is, you’re absolutely head over heels for a girl who doesn’t even know your name?” Abby cries out, interrupting her story. Erin quickly shushes her and eyes the counter, but thankfully, Holtzmann is quite busy.
“Yes!” Erin whispers furiously, “I know it’s stupid but I can’t help it and she’s so pretty and nice and cute and oh, Abby, what do I do?”
Abby leans forward conspiratorially. “Step one: we have to find out if she plays for your team.” They look at the counter. “Okay, at least that was easy. Step two: get her to talk to you. Step three: ask her out on a date! It's not that hard, y’know.”
Erin groans and buries her head in her hands. Abby can be so enormously thick sometimes. “I know she's gay. I've been coming in extra early for four weeks now, just so I can talk to her.”
Her friend compassionately pats her head. “You've got it bad, don't you?”
Another groan is the only reply Erin can give. Abby understands.
“Hey, the good news is that you’ve already completed steps one and two! The only step left is step three, which is-”
Erin lifts her head at Abby’s stupid optimism. “-To ask her out on a date. Abby, you know me. I am physically and emotionally unable to do that.”
Abby scrunches up her face. “Ugh, you get all sweaty,” she says.
In reply, the girl with the crush graciously inclined her head. “See? I can’t do that. This is hopeless, Abby,” Erin complains.
But while Erin can only complain about the situation she’s gotten herself into, Abby is already cooking up a plan.
V
When Erin enters the coffee shop the following week, she is pleasantly surprised to discover it is tastefully decorated with fairy lights, baubles, and some stylish tinsel. She walks up to the counter, where her favourite barista is already waiting for her with an absolute shit-eating grin on her face. She’s wearing a headband with antlers.
Ho, ho, ho, stranger,” says Holtzmann, “what a nice surprise!”
Erin rolls her eyes at the blonde’s silly antics. “As if I don’t stop by every morning,” she scoffs. The brunette is secretly quite proud of being the coffee shop's biggest fan. She’s probably Holtzmann’s biggest fan too, she thinks to herself.
The barista winks at her. “‘How are your Spanish classes coming along? Say something for me?”
“Feliz navidad,” Erin says proudly. She may not be good at Spanish, but she had specifically asked her Spanish professor to translate it for her. Erin had been practicing all week, only to impress Holtzmann.
And, to her surprise, it appears to have worked: the blonde barista snorts good-naturedly and shakes her head slightly, wearing a cute smile on her face. “You are something else,” Holtzmann says.
Erin decides to take that as a compliment. “Thank you. I proudly take that title,” she says,.
“Will you also proudly take a cup of coffee? God, that was bad. What can I get you today, my sweet, sweet, cupcake?”
The brunette flushes at the term of endearment and stutters out her usual order.
“And what name might I write upon the cup this week?”
Erin frowns slightly at the question. She had been giving the same name every week: it was Holtzmann who kept mistaking her name for other names.
“Erin.”
Holtzmann winks at her and then turns around to get to work. As much as Erin loves staring at her face, watching Holtzmann work is a religious experience. The way her nimble fingers curl around the cup, her gracefulness as she slides along the counter, the angle her wrist makes and she douses the coffee with cocoa powder - Erin loves it.
“Here you go, hot stuff,” Holtzmann says as she hands her the cup. The first thing Erin does upon receiving it is checking the name. It says Aaron.
“My name is Erin,” says Erin.
Holtzmann nods at her cup.
The brunette blushes. “No, it’s… with an E. For, um, everything you want,” she adds nervously. Erin tries to wink as Holtzmann, but she thinks it probably ends looking more like blinking.
Holtzmann slowly winks at her in reply, catching on to Erin’s attempt at flirting. But before she’s able to reply-
“Hi there, folks!” says Abby cheerily. Erin’s eyes widen when Abby comes into full view. On top of her head, she’s wearing a headband with antlers, just like Holtzmann, but additionally her nose is painted red. “I’m Rudolph,” she explain when she sees Erin looking.
“Guess which reindeer I am,” shouts Holtzmann excitedly. Of course, it’s impossible to guess which reindeer she is, if Abby’s Rudolph.
“Are you Dancer?” asks Erin.
“No. Guess again!”
“Are you Dasher?”
“Nope,” replies Holtzmann with a cute grin.
“I can only think of the two reindeer. How many are there? Nine?”
Holtzmann mumbles in herself and counts on her fingers. “I have eight,” she says with a frown.
Abby rolls her eyes. “You guys are a Christmas abomination. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and Rudolph. That makes nine.”
The barista recounts on her fingers. “Nope. Still got eight.”
“I think you’re forgetting Rudolph,” says Abby.
Holtzmann frowns and mumbles something to herself.
Abby turns to Erin. “How’s Spanish?”
“Malo. Mucho, mucho, malo,” she replies with a groan. “I can’t believe I thought learning Spanish would be a good idea! What was I thinking? Abby, save me.”
But Abby is ruthless. “Ugh, Er, get yourself a girlfriend that can solve these kind of problems for you, please.”
The huge stack of Christmas-themed paper cups next to Holtzmann clatter to the floor. Holtzmann makes no move to pick them up. She just stares slack-jawed at Erin, who can’t figure out whether the look in the barista’s eyes is amazement, wonder, or marvel. She decides on a combination of the three.
“Oh, jeepers, you’re gay?” Holtzmann stutters out incredulously.
Abby grins knowingly at Erin and busies herself with cleaning up the cups, giving the barista a hand.
“No, um, bisexual actually.” Holtzmann casually leans her elbow on the counter and grins widely at Erin.
“You’re bisexual? I don’t bi it. I mean, you’re bi far the cutest person in this room!”
“Ugh, get a room you two,” complains Abby. “Also, on a side note, how’s the job hunt going, Erin?”
Erin, in reply, only frowns at Abby. “Job hunt? What job-” she falls silent when her friend widens her eyes and shakes her head, silently telling her to shut up. “Oh. Yes. Job hunt? Well, it’s going - good? Bad, bad,” she quickly corrects. “Yea, it’s going very, very bad. Labour market? Not cool. Very not cool.”
Her friend facepalms. They both know that Erin is bad at lying, but this is an all time low. Lucky for Erin, Holtzmann seems to buy it.
“You’re searching for a job?” she asks interestedly. Abby continues stacking the cups.
Abby replies for her, having already made up a story in her head. Erin is grateful. “Oh yes, studying is expensive and Erin and I have been planning to maybe go on a road trip to West-Virginia to visit some haunted places. Erin loves ghosts.”
“She does?” Holtzmann asks exaggeratingly incredulously.
“Yes! Did you know she actually saw-”
“-Abby, please,” Erin cuts her off. She’s blushing. “Holtz doesn’t want to know that.”
Holtzmann appears hurt. “Holtz does,” she says. “What was it like? Did you get slimed? Ghosts do that sometimes, right?”
Erin feels something swell up in her chest once it’s become clear that Holtzmann is actually interested. So she quickly explains about old Mrs Barnard, her old neighbour, who haunted her for a year after she had died. She finished her story with an unsure smile.
“I believe you,” Holtzmann said promptly, “but I still have some questions.” She followed her statement with a saucy wink. Erin blushes.
Abby chooses that moment to loudly announce that she has finished stacking the cups. “My God, Holtzmann, you such a bad barista. I bet even Erin could do it,” she says laughing.
“Let’s not exaggerate,” Erin said hastily, but the clocks inside Holtzmann’s head were already ticking.
“We’re short on staff, you know,” she says thoughtfully. “This might actually work!”
VI
And so it happens that Erin finds herself behind the counter with Holtzmann late in the afternoon on a Saturday. It’s even quieter than on a Tuesday morning. Erin isn’t surprised.
As expected, Erin is an absolute disaster behind the counter. Her hands are unsteady and she can’t remember the orders or the simple difference between a latte macchiato and a coffee with just a lot of milk.
Not that she’s trying, anyways. Erin keeps allowing herself to be distracted by the way Holtzmann moves, or speaks, or the current of electricity she feels whenever Holtzmann touches her. Which happens a lot, Erin notices.
“Erin,” Holtzmann places her hand on her shoulder, “we need one hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and marshmallows and one double espresso.”
“Wait, you know my name?” Erin asks, as she immediately gets busy. She doesn’t notice the coffee shop is completely empty.
“Of course I do,” says Holtzmann with a wink, “you’re wearing a nametag so- wait, what are you doing with that hot chocolate?”
Erin was so distracted by the wink, that she hadn’t noticed she had grabbed cream instead of milk.
“Oh, Er-Bear, come here. Let me teach you.” The barista walks up to Erin and stands behind her. She’s so close that Erin can feel her breath stroking the back of her neck. Holtzmann’s scent fills her nostrils. She swallows heavily.
Things get even worse (or better, really) when Holtzmann takes Erin’s hands in hers and starts to use them as some sort of marionette. “First, we’re gonna dispose of this beverage - though I wouldn’t recommend drinking it - and you know what, just throw away the whole cup.”
Holtzmann patiently guides her through the steps once again, and together they make the perfect hot chocolate. Or so Holtzmann claims, when she quickly snaps a photo of the creation with her mobile phone.
“Here you go, it’s totally safe,” the experienced barista says jokingly as she hands Erin a double espresso. “It should warm you right up, I added a secret ingredient.”
Erin, who had lifted to cup about halfway to her mouth, immediately set it on the counter as far away from her as possible. “Holtz,” she hisses, “I can’t drink alcohol while I’m at work!”
“Rinzie, you’re such a cutie! The secret ingredient is a shot of hot chocolate, relax, and drink your double espresso with a shot of hot chocolate.”
The brunette carefully sniffs the cup, deems it safe, and takes a sip. “Oh my god, Holtz,” she says, “This is delicious!”
The barista winks at her in reply. “I know what girls like,” she half-says, half-sings. “And this girl would like a break.”
The two of them sit down at a table not too far away from the counter in case someone comes in. “I was wondering,” Holtzmann says. Her voice trails off and she stares out of the window.
Erin’s gut fills with dread. She hasn’t known Holtzmann for long, but long enough to realise Holtzmann wasn’t one to actually think about what to say. She usually just blurted whatever was at the tip of her tongue at that moment. The fact that she was actually thinking about how to formulate her next sentence awoke Erin’s most deeply hidden insecurities.
“Sorry, I got distracted by a dog crossing the road all by himself. What a good boy. You were saying?” Holtzmann nudges Erin with her elbow and takes a sip of her hot chocolate.
“You were saying?”
Holtzmann shrugged. “It was one of those really tiny, but fluffy dogs. Sort of like a walking bear, I suppose? I’ve always liked to look at them, but to actually own one? I’d much rather have - oh, you meant I was saying something before the whole dog thing happened, right?”
Erin nods awkwardly.
“Where was I? Yes. I have been wondering why you’re trying to be a barista? I know you don’t need to money. Abby accidentally let something slip about rich parents yesterday.”
The brunette hangs her head and sighs. “My parents suddenly got poor,” Erin says solemnly, “very, very tragic.”
Holtzmann eyes her critically.
Erin sighs. “I have a pet horse I have to take care of. Shoot! I hate horses,” she quickly adds, realising how unlikely her quick lie was.
“Why do you hate them? They were pretty useful on farms and stuff.”
“I’m scared of them,” Erin confesses. She shivers. “They’re so big. And those empty eyes...”
“Wait, hold up, I will not get distracted by your irrational fear of horses!” Holtzmann says, jumping up. “Why are you pretending to want to be a barista?”
She takes a deep breath. “Isortofhaveabigcrushononeofthebaristas,” Erin says in one breath.
Holtzmann gasps loudly. “A crush on a barista? Why didn’t you tell me sooner! I could’ve given you Kevin’s cell ages ago, had you just asked me!”
Erin shakes her head and blushes. She’s hyperaware of every move Holtz makes. The way she deflates when Erin shakes her head. The way she nervously bites her lip. The way her hand strokes her forearm. “I don’t have a crush on-on-on Kevin,” Erin says, pronouncing the name like it’s a rare disease. “Never him.”
She looks up at Holtzmann through her eyelashes. She’s smiling softly, appearing relieved. “I’m glad to hear that,” says Holtz with a chuckle.
“You are?”
Holtzmann scratches the back of her head awkwardly. “Yea, actually. I sort of got my hopes up as soon as you mentioned you liked girls- yeah, I don’t know. Just glad it’s not him, ‘s all.”
Erin swipes her hair behind her ear. It’s now or never. “Holtzmann-” she starts, but she never finishes the sentence. The hands that Erin admired earlier cup her cheeks and her lips are finally pressing against the pink lips she had imagined kissing for so long. Holtzmann scent is everywhere, and it’s dizzying her, and Holtzmann is kissing her and Erin is kissing her back and she’s finally reciprocating all the tender touches between them.
“Erin, please go on a date with me,” Holtzmann practically begs. Her face is mere inches away from the brunette.
“Only if you say my name again.” Holtzmann quickly pecks her lips.
“Oh, I promise you, if you play your cards right, I’ll scream it all night.” Erin shakes her head and tries not to laugh because she doesn’t want to encourage Holtzmann.
“I know a nice cafe a couple of blocks away,” she says. “One of my best friends works there. She majors in history, she tells the greatest stories.”
“I hope that one day, she’ll tell the ridiculous story of how her best friend thought infiltrating a coffee shop was the best way to impress a girl,” Holtzmann jokes.
“Have mercy on me,” Erin says, completely love-struck. She grins at Holtzmann, well-aware of the fact that her emotions are all laid bare.
Holtzmann adores the lazy smile on Erin’s face. She may have gotten her name wrong a couple of times, but she sure as hell got it right this time.