When Farron said she would use the gift card wisely, Cora had expected that to be...well, never. People would always forget to use gift cards unless that was the sole reason they were at the store. From the business side, that was the beauty of them. Money came in, and no resources went out.

Cora should have known Farron would defy her expectations in those regards too.

It took less than twenty-four hours for Farron to appear on the other side of Cora's register, smirking. Immediately, Cora's heart began to race, as if it had never stilled from the night before.

"Hi," Farron said, her smile somehow widening. "I received a very special gift card from this fine establishment, and I wanted to use it, but I have no idea what's good. Can you recommend something?"

Cora froze under the sudden spotlight, and she could already imagine Darlene's critique of her answer, nevermind that Cora hadn't even said anything yet. It wouldn't matter what she suggested. Even after eight years on the job, Cora's beverage recommendations were apparently never good enough. Nothing she ever did was good enough.

Then, Cora remembered: Darlene had just left for her lunch break. It was only Cora at the register, Kevin fiddling with the espresso machine, and Farron watching Cora with her soft gaze and slight smile. Between them, Farron tapped the edge of the familiar gift card against the countertop, the rhythmic clicks soothing Cora's nerves.

But Cora's brief moment of comfort was quickly smothered by memories. The last time they were in a similar situation, it was with an angry customer who, in a way, served as Cora's ultimate test of her skills. Cora had been useless against the woman, even after years of dealing with difficult customers. If she couldn't even handle that, what made her qualified for anything else? What weight did her years of experience hold? What if Darlene was right about her?

"Hey, Cora," a voice whispered.

Cora hadn't realized her gaze had zoned out on the store floor, overly familiar with the textured brown tiles from the time she spent mopping up the thrown drink. It had taken her ten minutes to clean up the sticky mess; it had taken another fifteen to control her tears enough to face customers once more.

And just then, the tears threatened to make their return.

"Cora," the voice repeated. "It's okay. It's okay."

Was it? The fresh memory, clinging to her mind like the dried remnants of the overpriced sugary coffee, was enough to convince her otherwise. But Cora wanted to believe that voice. She wanted to feel like everything was okay, that she was okay, that she hadn't proven herself to be a complete failure. Not yet, at least.

So, whether it was out of curiosity or desperation, Cora lifted her gaze.

And there was Farron. Instead of glaring at Cora for her incompetence, Farron's eyes were warm and proud. Instead of shouting at Cora for her failures, Farron's mouth showed nothing but a small smile.

"What's your favorite drink?" Farron asked, her husky voice only a hint louder than a whisper.

"A hot chocolate with peppermint syrup and a shot of espresso," Cora blurted out, then paused, eyes wide.

The correct answer was supposed to be that she couldn't choose a favorite, followed by a list of some of the most expensive drinks on the menu. But once again, she messed it up. Once again, she failed to do even the simplest aspects of her job.

Yet nothing happened. Even as the silent seconds ticked by, no customers began to scream profanities at her from the other side of the counter. Darlene didn't pop out of the cabinets to snap at Cora for her forgetfulness. The only people there were Cora, Kevin, and Farron.

Farron's smile grew. "I'll have a small one of those then. Can it be with soy milk? And some whipped cream?"

"Uh..." After remembering she was supposed to be working, Cora scrambled to tap the order into the monitor. "One small hot chocolate with one espresso shot, peppermint, soy, and whipped cream."

"Yes, please. And I'm a little hungry too. Which pastries do you like?"

That time, Cora took a moment to mull the question over. "I usually like the blueberry scone, but the flavor might clash with the peppermint in the hot chocolate. The cinnamon roll might be the best."

"I'll take one cinnamon roll then," Farron said, then, in a lower voice, "I like eating sweet things."

Cora's finger nearly missed the "cinnamon roll" button when her arm twitched with the switch in Farron's tone. "C-cool." She cleared her throat. Why in the world did that make her stutter? "Did you...did you want that hot? The cinnamon roll. Like heated up. In a microwave."

Farron tilted her head, and her teasing smile turned into a sly smirk. "Yes, please."

Then, even though Cora expected it, Farron's sultry stare still sent a shiver up her spine. Lowering her gaze didn't help, and when Cora's eyes inevitably reached Farron's toned—no, perfectly normal tattooed arm, all Cora could think about was—

Coffee. She was at work at a coffee shop, so of course she was only thinking about coffee. And tea. So much tea. So, so much.

"Okay!" Cora said—or squeaked, more like. "Uh...one small hot chocolate with espresso, peppermint, soy milk, and whipped cream, and one cinnamon roll—hot. Anything else?"

"Just one thing." Farron held up her gift card and, of course, winked. "Can I add more money on this?"

Much to Cora's surprise, the rest of the transaction went smoothly. She even managed to maintain her composure when Farron inexplicably added fifty dollars onto the gift card, then when Farron accepted her receipt with yet another wink.

"Should I take a bathroom break now?" Kevin whispered when Farron finally stepped away to wait for her order.

"What?" Cora exclaimed, then coughed in a delayed attempt to mask her unexpected high pitch. "Why? What's wrong?"

Even with Kevin's eyes glued to his coffee-stained high tops, it was impossible to miss the pink tint flushing his pale complexion. "I feel like I'm interrupting something here."

"Well, you're not," Cora snapped, then took a deep breath when she heard how angry she sounded. "Sorry. Everything's fine." Lie. "Everything's cool." Definitely not. "Cool beans." Please stop.

Cora took another deep breath, ignoring how it did nothing to calm her nerves. "Are you able to make her drink?"

Kevin lifted his head just enough to nervously glance in Farron's direction. "I'm pretty sure she wants you to make it."

"Does it matter what she wants?" Yes, she was a paying customer. Customers literally pay for what they want. That's how businesses worked. "She'll be fine."

"But I won't be. Have you seen her arms? They're bigger than my thighs! She'll probably strangle me as soon as my shift's over."

"You'll be fine." Probably. Maybe. Debatable.

Judging by Kevin's glaring pout, he wasn't convinced.

Cora sighed. "Fine. Can you heat up a cinnamon roll then? Or are you worried she'll crush you with her thighs too?"

Not like that would be a bad thing...

Wait, what?

Without another word, Cora dashed towards the fridge, hoping her flushed face wasn't as obvious as Kevin's.

She forced herself to focus on gathering the ingredients, but even the simple task was easier said than done. What was the big deal? Farron was just another customer, ordering just another drink. It was just another Cool Beans day. Totally cool.

And Cora could feel Farron watching her from the side of the counter.

Well, that was normal too! Plenty of customers would watch her work, whether out of impatience, distrust, attraction—

Wait, what?

Nope, she couldn't think about that. Absolutely not. What she could think about was coffee. Coffee was fine. Coffee was life. All she needed to worry about was coffee.

That, and the drink on the order screen that wasn't going to build itself. And there was no way Cora could fail two days in a row. With that somber reminder, Cora focused on the task at hand, pretending like she was in the middle of the lunch rush instead of a nearly empty store.

A small hot chocolate with peppermint and espresso, sub soy milk, add whipped cream. Cora could picture it already: the shot would be pulled first, dispensed directly into the small paper cup with the flavored syrups awaiting it. In the meantime, she would be steaming the milk. She usually struggled with frothing the watery soy, but luckily, no foam was needed, thanks to the whipped cream.

She could do it. She would do it.

And she did. The drink came together just like she imagined: as soon as the espresso hit the syrups, the warm scent of coffee, chocolate, and peppermint filled the store. The soy milk heated up perfectly, never gurgling too loudly or making oversized air bubbles. When she topped it off with whipped cream, the sweet foam came out cleanly, and the can didn't sputter even once.

At some point during the imagined rush, Cora had calmed, and the only warmth against her skin was from the completed beverage in her hand. Just in time, Kevin hurried towards her with a small takeout box, and he shoved it into her other hand before scampering away in the opposite direction.

Cora took a deep breath as she faced the handoff counter. She could do it. She would do it.

"Order for Farron!" Her voice was clear and steady.

Farron, who had been staring at Cora's sugar packet arrangement at the condiment station, turned and grinned.

"That was fast," Farron said as she accepted her order. "It smells amazing too. I guess I can see why you like it here."

Her words caught Cora off guard, but Cora had no trouble in keeping her smile strong. After all, she had done it—she had succeeded. After the failures of the day before, she finally had a win. She still had a chance.

"Careful, it's hot," Cora said as Farron made to take a sip of the drink. "Unless, of course, that's how you like it."

Cora had no idea what compelled her to say such a thing, and in such an insinuating tone on top of that. It didn't even make much sense if she thought about it too much. But even as Farron's eyes widened above her drink and Kevin coughed from somewhere around the pastry case, Cora stood her ground. She was on a roll. She was unstoppable. She could do anything.

Farron lowered her cup just enough for Cora to see her lips quirk up into a slight grin. "I do, actually. Do you have any other hot recommendations for me?"

"Farron?" a honeyed voice said. "What are you doing here?"

In the four seconds that followed, Cora went through a whirlwind of emotions. First was annoyance. Who in their right mind thought it was okay to interrupt her conversation with Farron?

Next, awe. The unfamiliar voice was smooth and melodious, and Cora couldn't help but be curious about the source of such a beautiful sound.

Then, there was worry. The stranger had mentioned Farron by name, and Cora wasn't ready to meet any acquaintances when she was just trying to—well, have a perfectly normal and innocent conversation, of course.

Finally, there was anger. Because when Cora glanced at Farron, only to find her previously cocky expression replaced with wide-eyed horror, Cora wanted to force herself in between Farron and whoever was terrible enough to elicit such a reaction.

"And in your Fruitastic uniform too?" The person laughed once, short and sharp. "Fraternizing with the enemy, are we?"

At last, a woman stepped out from behind the espresso machine, beaming at Farron with dark red lips that shimmered under the fluorescent lights. Her long black hair was in gentle waves that framed her fair complexion and swooped over her frilly white blouse. A tiny black skirt hugged her waist, then cut off above her knees to highlight her slender legs and glossy dark pumps.

The familiar aura of the outfit sent Cora on another emotional rollercoaster, but it was at least a ride she had ridden before. She was bitter; the woman probably enjoyed flaunting her money to get what she wanted. She was jealous; the woman probably never worked a hard day in her life for the sake of survival. She was angry; the woman probably looked down on workers like Cora and Farron.

She was scared; could Cora really stand up to someone so powerful?

But one more glance at Farron's wide eyes was enough for Cora to answer her own question: she could, and she would.