You click on the Youtube link in the email with a ridiculous smile. George’s face pops up immediately and you sigh, wishing he could be with you and not in some far off field in the middle of nowhere. He had been away for almost two months now and although you were talking on the phone and through texts and emails almost every day, it did not stop you wishing he was home again by your side.

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you press play.

George leans back into his seat from turning the camera on and gives a little wave. His nervous half smile is enough to send your heart racing and you can’t help waving back.

“Hello,” he says and you want to hug your computer in the hopes that he might feel it wherever he is. “So it is a special someone’s birthday,” he is saying and you blush in spite of yourself. “And I cannot be there with them, as much as I want to, and so I am doing this for them. I know how much they love this song and I couldn’t think of a better one to express how I feel, so here goes. Happy birthday my darling, I love you.”

You feel the pin pricks behind your eyes as George picks up the guitar in his lap and begins to strum it. You recognise it immediately as This by Ed Sheeran.

“This is the start of something beautiful…”

You sway back and forth to the song, unaware that you are smiling through tears and you watch your perfect boyfriend serenade you from halfway across the world. As the song comes to an end, George blows the camera a kiss and blushes. This video is not private and you know he is thinking about all the not-you-people who are going to watch this video. George is shy enough as it is, so to post a video of him saying ‘I love you’ to someone and blowing them a kiss was no doubt a difficult thing for him to do and so you promise yourself not to tease him about his flushing cheeks when he returns.

Mat slipped when he saw him enter. Looking all fancy in his pin striped suit and papers tucked under his arm. He was squirting cream on a frappuccino at the time and the whipped cream went everywhere.

“What the fuck Mat?” Martha exclaimed as she checked her uniform to make sure he hadn’t got any on her.

“Shit sorry,” he said panicked. He finished topping up the drink, gave it to the person who ordered it, and then set about cleaning up the mess he’d made.

“How did you manage tha- OH,” Martha interrupted herself, seeing the answer to her question approaching her till. Mat ignored her knowing look and instead rinsed the cloth clean.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” he heard Martha say far too chirpily.

“Just a mocha please.”

Mat stifled a groan. That voice! All upper class and smooth that made you want to get your tongue in there and explore that mouth in the hopes of discovering the secret of its appeal. Martha waved the cup with the order written on it in Sharpie in front of his face, and Mat forced himself to pull together so that he could fill out the order.

“Hi,” he heard himself say as he set the machine.

“Hi,” the sexy silver fox of a customer (as Mat had named him) replied.

“Good day?”

“Not bad. You?”

“Fine thanks. Here’s your drink.” He handed over the mocha, careful not to touch sexy silver fox’s hand because he honestly didn’t believe he would survive. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

That was the extent of their conversation, and yet Mat lived for it every time the customer came. Although once Mat had sprained his wrist carrying a tray too heavy for him and spent a week in brace. The silver fox had asked if he was all right and when the brace had been taken off he had said he was pleased to see he was better. Mat had spent the rest of the day in a dreamland, much to Martha’s annoyance and everyone else’s amusement. His friends would sometimes come into the café to watch the bi-weekly encounter, giving Mat plenty of winks and nudges. He ignored them every time.

He did not know his name, but what he did know was that he came in every Monday and Wednesday, he worked in a corporate business because no one goes around dressed like that if they weren’t being paid well. He didn’t like whipped cream but liked to order something different every time he came in. He loved it when seasonal specials were available and he would try and get through them all before the limited time passed. He also liked classical music – Mat had heard it coming from his earphones once, and he had a habit of nibbling his bottom lip when he was reading through what Mat presumed was work papers.

A small stab of disappointment hit Mat when he realised the drink was to go and so the silver fox would not be staying. He had probably cottoned on to his oogling and didn’t want to hang around longer than he had to.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Martha snapped when Mat voiced his concerns. “You say that every time he gets a take away. He always comes back the next time with an extra large order and eats in.” Mat knew she was right. “Did you see the way he lingered after you handed him his coffee?” Her eyes twinkled. Mat shook his head. “He totally wanted to ask you something. Like your name, or out on a date!”

“Martha,” Mat said in a warning tone. Knowing you have no chance is one thing, but false hope is quite another. Martha rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on! How can you not see the way he looks at you? I have no doubt there are coffee shops closer to his work with better coffee that he could go to.” Mat mockingly gasped, holding his hand to his heart like she had insulted the feelings of the shop. She ignored him. “But no, he chooses to come here. He likes you. Ask him out.”

“No,” Mat said firmly.

“Do it.”

“No!”

“Do it do it do it!”

“No no no!”

Mat grabbed the cloth and ran to clear the tables before Martha could say anything else.

*

Silver fox waved when he entered the café. He fucking waved. Mat was already hyperventilating and he hadn’t even ordered yet. At least he was at the till and not making the drinks because he didn’t think he could have kept his hands steady enough to hold boiling hot liquid.

Martha took the opportunity of silver fox shaking out his wet umbrella and it getting caught in his coat to set Mat even more on edge.

“He waved at you. He wants you. For the love of god ask him out!”

In a panic Mat gestured for her to shut up as silver fox approached.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

“Hi,” the silver fox said. He then did something that Mat did not expect and leaned over the till to look at Mat’s name tag. “Mat.” A groan escaped Mat’s lips and he hoped to god the silver fox hadn’t heard it. “I’m Ben.”

Mat’s brain was on overdrive. Whizzing and whirling at the thought of a name. Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, he kept saying over and over again in his head.

“What can I get you today… Ben,” he said mechanically.

“Um…” Ben scanned the board. “A large white hot chocolate please.” Mat didn’t bother to ask if he wants whipped cream on top.

“Eat in or take away?”

“Take away please. I have a big meeting to get back to and I need something warm and delicious to get me through it,” he added by way of an explanation. Mat managed a smile as he got the price up on the till and took the money, as always careful not to touch Ben’s skin.

“Horrible weather we are having today,” Ben said conversationally as he searched for a twenty pence piece in his wallet.

“Hmm,” Mat agreed, not trusting himself to say anything more.

“It’s a good thing the sun is always shining in here.” The way Ben said that was suggestive and Mat blushed to his ears. There was a squeak beside him and Mat saw Martha crouch down and hide behind the till covering her mouth.

“He means you,” she mouthed as Mat got a take away cup and wrote on Ben’s order. “Ask him out ask him out ask him OUT!”

Mat gave her a kick and she responded with a punch to the shin.

“Ow!”

Ben frowned and Martha reappeared with an innocent expression.

“So sorry Mat I didn’t see you there.” She rose her eyebrows at Mat.

I couldn’t ask him out, Mat thought, I’ve only just learnt his name. He doesn’t like me. But then what if he does? What if we spend all our time tiptoe-ing around each other until it is too late. Oh god I am thinking too much about this. Quickly he scribbled his number on the paper take away cup and handed it to Martha before he could think any more about it. She positively beamed at him.

I am going to get fired for this, he thought to himself. I am going to get fired, I am going to get fired, I am going to get fired.

*

“I got fired,” Mat said to his friends the next day. They had decided to convene in the café to discuss the clichéd phone-number-on-the-cup situation when Mat had been called to the boss’s office. “Apparently it’s against our contract to ask customers out on dates.” He threw his no-longer-needed apron on the table and took the seat next to Larry.

“How did he even know?” asked Jim crossly. Everyone turned to Martha, who was on her break.

“Hey don’t look at me,” she said offended. “The last thing I want is Mat gone. It won’t be nearly as much fun working here without you.” She squeezed Mat’s arm. “I will try and make Greg see sense, tell him he is being unreasonable, I promise.” Mat gave her a small appreciative smile.

“Thanks. And no it wasn’t her,” he said to everyone else. “He saw the cup when Ben left and recognised my handwriting.”

“It’s not fair” said Simon with a frown. “It’s not like you just want a shag. You genuinely like this guy.” Mat shrugged.

“And it was all for nothing,” said Mat, resting his chin on the table. “Ben didn’t even call.”

As if on cue, Mat’s phone rang. It was an unknown number.

“Oh blithering fuck balls,” Mat hissed as he flailed his arms in a panic and almost hit Larry in the face.

“Well answer it then, you twat,” Martha said impatiently. Mat hit the green button.

“H-hello?”

“Hello, Mat is this you?” It was Ben. Mat nodded to confirm what all his friends were thinking. They all leaned in closer, straining to hear. Mat frowned but they did not back away.

“Yes.” Mat’s chest was shrinking. He couldn’t breathe. He kept balling his hands into fists and then releasing them.

“You left your number on my cup.”

“Yes.”

“I…” Ben’s voice sounded strained. “I need to know why.”

“I thought… I hoped you might call,” Mat stammered, frowning.

“Why?” Ben pushed.

“Because… because I like the way you smile at me every time you come into the shop okay?” he gushed. “I like the way you don’t stick to the same order, I like the way you nibble your bottom lip when you are thinking, and I like the way your shoes are shinier than your cufflinks. Because I lost my job because of you and because I didn’t sleep at all last night when you didn’t call thinking I had made a big mistake. Because I count down the days until I see you again and hope every time that you order to eat in so I have that little bit longer with you. Because I like you.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Mat swerved round, dropping his phone. Ben was standing behind him smiling. All Mat’s friends stared at him open mouthed. Ben outstretched his hand and, unaware of what he was doing, Mat took it. Ben eased him to his feet and pulled him a few steps away from the table his friends sat on.

Gently, Ben brought Mat’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

“I had to be sure,” he said apologetically. “I’ve misunderstood before and… I had to be sure.”

It took Mat some time to piece together the words, he was still having a panic attack that the fact that Ben had kissed his hand!

“I have to get back to work,” Ben said regretfully and Mat let out a groan. He kissed Mat’s hand once more and then let go and walked away. Mat stared after him. Ben froze mid-stride half way to the door.

“Did you just say you lost your job for me?” he asked.

“Er… yeah, kind of,” Mat said, rubbing the back of his head. “Apparently it isn’t appropriate to give your phone numbers to customers.” Ben frowned.

“Could I do anything? Have a word with your boss maybe?”

Mat smiled, it was sweet of Ben to think of that.

“Nah, our boss is a push over. Martha will get it back for me.” He gestured vaguely to his group of friends. Ben did not look overly convinced. “You can focus on calling me.”

Ben grinned at that, and Mat couldn’t help but grin back. He felt like he was on cloud nine and wasn’t going to come down any time soon. Screw the job, some things are more important.

Ben gave him a wave as he backed to the door.

“What are you wearing?” you splutter out between gasps of laughter and shock.

“A Father Christmas costume,” Larry says with dignity, looking down at himself as if he needs to check. He walks from the front door where he has just come through to the sofa that you are sitting on. He leans over the back of it and whispered into your ear, “perhaps we could go to the bedroom and I’ll show you what’s in my sack.”

“Oh god!” You cannot suppress the laughter any more. You pull away from him and hide your face in your hands as you giggle. When you look up again you see the face of a kicked puppy so you do your best to look sorry. “Sorry love,” you say, stroking his cheek, “but you must see how creepy this is?” Larry recoils.

“Your dad didn’t dress up as Santa when you were younger did he?”

“Oh god no!” You look horrified at the thought. You shake the image away. “What I mean is, you think that dressing up as an old, fat man with a bushy white beard and red velvet suit is going to turn me on! Do you really not know me?” Larry sighed and shrugged, but somehow you don’t believe his actions.

“I guess I might as well take this off then,” he sighs, and he takes off his cotton wool beard.

You wolf whistle. “Woo, yeah. Off, off, off,” you chant as you clap along. Larry takes the encouragement and begins to strip, tugging the hat off first and swinging it around in the air before throwing it to the side.

“Der ner ner ner ner ner,” he sings, attempting the stripper tune as he kicks off his boots. You give another cheer. Larry gives a little wiggle of the bum before reaching behind himself and gripping the top half of his costume at his shoulder blades. He pulls and the whole thing comes off in one swift action.

You marvel at the delicious bare chest that is left behind and take no shame in ogling it greedily. The removal of the jacket reveals a pair of braces that you assume is holding up the red velvet trousers. You so badly want to ping them against his chest. But you resist.

Larry is still singing the stripper tune, sort of, as he takes hold of his trousers at the thighs and pulls.

You snort and then cheer and Larry gives a final model pose.

“Of course I knew you would prefer something a little sexier than a Santa outfit.”

You beam as you drink in Larry’s state. The ridiculous Father Christmas outfit is gone and what is left behind is a sort of sexy fireman-meets-Christmas outfit that you cannot wait to get him out of. All he is wearing is a pair of red shorts being held up (unnecessarily considering how tight they are) by some matching red braces.