Strawberry Latte

“C-C-Can I get one order of… Ummm…”

Mia Rosswood, now a senior high school student, still never did get rid of her stutters or complete a proper sentence, even when just placing a simple order.

The scent of milk and cacao beans drifted across the café. It was a cold afternoon, and there were few people around. But she knew she could not stall the line. From the counter, the barista already wore an annoyed frown.

“What was that? I can't hear you.”

Wavy, brownish-pink strands of hair fell over her pale face as she lowered her head, light red eyes darting around in a frantic search for a response.

She looked toward the menu, then lit up at the strawberry-flavored drinks—soft, fluffy, topped with whipped cream, but probably more than she could afford. She dug her hand into her pocket to check, and her heart sank as she found only some coins.

“Ah, sorry. N-Nevermind…”

“Then, get out of the way,” snapped the customer behind her. “You're making others wait for nothing.”

“S-Sorry! I’m so sorry…”

Dejected, she trudged to the seats beside the window, where a pretty girl with straight, red hair and bright, green eyes was waiting. It was her friend, Jenny. Propped before her on the table was an iced mocha and chocolate cookies.

“You’re not getting anything?” Jenny asked, raising a brow over the rim of her cup.

Mia gave a half-smile and shook her head. “I, uh, realized I’m not hungry…”

Truth be told, she hadn’t had anything but buttered toast for both breakfast and lunch. Money was always short, even back in the countryside, where she grew up juggling odd jobs to make ends meet and attending class on an empty stomach. Moving to the city, the frugal life followed her, especially into overpriced cafés on chilly, early-spring days.

As for why she came to such a place, to begin with, it was simply because she wanted to hang out with the one and only friend she'd made in school.

“I can pay for it, if you want,” Jenny offered with a concerned tone.

Mia shook her head. ‘Spending time together makes me happy enough.’

However, things couldn't stay this way. They'd soon enter university to take their respective courses, and she'd be all by herself again. Before then, she had to try to change. Her financial matters aside, more challenging was her timid nature, which made social interactions grueling.

She couldn't keep worrying her friend like this, not when she'd done so much for her.

“Come on, Mia. We went here for this reason. Don't-”

"Don't touch me, you freak!"

A scream tore through the air, making Mia and Jenny turn in surprise. There in the doorway stood a well-dressed girl with ash-blond hair and brown eyes. Everyone in the room was now watching the commotion she caused.

"Wait, is that…? That's Alice! The makeup vlogger!" Mia heard Jenny gasp.

But her focus wasn't on the lovely lady. Rather, it's on the young man with her. 

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his unkempt, blond hair was drenched from what appeared to be coffee.

‘She threw it on him?!’ Mia blanched at the sight, appalled.

His glasses were slanted, and a big, brown stain was splattered over his wrinkled shirt. A bouquet of roses drooped pitifully in his hand, petals scattered on the floor. He looked more than humiliated, even almost ruined.

"Stop following me around and embarrassing me!" Alice’s voice lashed like a whip. "I don’t ever want to see your ugly face again, you hear?!"

Then off she went, heels clicking furiously against the floor before vanishing into the city bustle outside. For a moment, silence stretched across the place while employees and customers alike remained unmoving.

All eyes veered toward the guy, whose expression was not of anger or shock, but of pure emptiness. Mia felt her chest tighten. She knew that emotion all too well—that cold, hollow ache that came with being unwanted.

She was an outcast who couldn't speak like normal, and thus, had never been fortunate in love. Each attempt ended in hurtful words and disgusted looks from boys she thought understood her. 

They said she was too quiet, too strange, too boring.

"You're a cutie, but you're weird. What a waste."

"Sorry, we're just too different. You're not my type at all."

"How can anyone possibly like you when you can barely say a word?"

It happened all the time, and eventually, she came to accept reality. Nobody would want to be with someone so weak and pathetic. For as long as she could remember, she was alone and did not know what it felt like to love or be loved.

Always on the sideline. Never at the center.

‘Is he…the same?’

Before she knew it, she was out of her seat and dragging her feet toward him. Her heart pounded with anxiety, her stomach churning in protest. But something stronger pushed her forward—something buried deep within.

“Hey, ummm… A-Are you okay…?” she asked once she reached him.

He slowly lifted his head and stared at her in a daze. Despite the lack of response, she trembled from head to toe, as if she'd been sent away. She clenched her fists, grounding herself, then pulled out her handkerchief and held it out to him with shaky fingers.

“H-Here,” she stammered, forcing out a wobbly smile. “It’s clean, I promise... Y-You can use it for now, though I advise you to, uh, change out of that shirt as soon as you can… Oh, and, um… I-I know a way to wash off stains like that, i-if you want me to tell you how…”

She was desperate for a topic, yet there was still no reaction. “Ermmm… Sir?”

More time passed with no word or movement, but in those seconds, something shifted in his eyes.

---

A beautiful face came into view when reality pulled Wes back.

He blinked as his surroundings sank in. Too stunned by the harsh public rejection, he had kept his head down and ignored the judging looks around him. He expected nobody to pay him any mind, much less approach him in this state —

Until she came extending an unsteady hand, tremors in her voice and an awkward lift to her lips.

He stared in awe at such a clumsy act of kindness. Then, he realized he hadn't been listening, even though she was already so nervous. His spine straightened in attention.

“S-So, uhhh... T-To get off that stain…”

For some reason, she began to teach him how to clean clothes, of all things. Her words kept faltering, and he swore she was about to tear up, but she did her best to explain everything.

One word popped into his head at the same time a low chuckle escaped his lips —

‘...Cute.’

She paused at the sound, mouth agape and quivering. It seemed she thought he was making fun of her, which he wasn't. He gave her a gentle smile to assure her, to show that he meant well.

A moment passed without any word or movement, and in those seconds, something shifted in her eyes.