#brozen

Of course dear <3

#7 “You come into the Starbucks I work at all the time  but you suddenly work up the courage to tell me I’ve been writing your name wrong for six months. This is awkward I am sorry please forgive me.”

“Listen,” he says. “I have lesson planning to do when we get back to campus. I’ve been losing entire lunch breaks for six months to your useless brooding. Either tell her that isn’t your name, or legally change it so that it is.”

Teeny tiny bit of language, but otherwise safe. 

Zaveid is not staring at the barista again. It does not matter what Eizen says.

It does seem, however, that his casual observation of her annoys Eizen a great deal, as he finally sets down his cup on the table with enough force to make Zaveid start.

“Dude,” he says sternly, “just go tell her if it’s such a problem.”

Zaveid looks at him, then down at his own coffee cup, sitting untouched on the table. It is fresh, hot and perfectly catered to his very complicated tastes. She does everything right every time, except for the one detail.

“It’s not a problem,” he says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Eizen raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“No?” he asks. Zaveid holds firm.

“No. She probably has hundreds of patrons every day. It’s impossible for her to remember every little detail.”

“And yet you’re heartbroken that the most vital part is the one she messed up.” Eizen picks up his cup and takes a long swig. He says it casually, very matter of fact. He is convinced of it, but Zaveid is not going to admit that he may just be right.

“Look, it’s a difficult name,” he says irritably. “It’s not like it’s spelled like it sounds either.”

“Mm-hm,” Eizen hums into his cup. He sets it down and takes Zaveid’s cup from the other side of the table before Zaveid has time to stop him. Turning it around, he inspects the little black scribble on the front.

“Daveed, huh?” His lips quirk in amusement. “Close enough if you ask me.”

“That’s not-” Zaveid sputters. “That’s not the point.”

Eizen leans over the table and puts the cup back in place, pushing it carefully towards him.

“Listen,” he says. “I have lesson planning to do when we get back to campus. I’ve been losing entire lunch breaks for six months to your useless brooding. Either tell her that isn’t your name, or legally change it so that it is.”

Zaveid stares at him, brows knitting together. He opens his mouth.

“No.” Eizen holds up a hand. “Those are your options. Choose.”

That does not leave him with a lot of leeway to use. He thinks it over. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he takes the cup and walks away from the table and to the counter where the cute barista is putting the finishing touches on someone’s drink. It is a colourful concoction of cream and sugar, worse even than the caramel strawberry chocolate mess (with soy milk instead of regular) in Zaveid’s cup.

She looks up as he approaches, and a look of concern briefly shows on her face. It shutters and changes into the polite smile of someone on the job.

“Hello again,” she says pleasantly. “Can I help you? Is there something wrong with your drink?”

At first, he is too distracted by her smile to even process the words. Then some survival instinct he seems to possess in the presence of ladies quickly sets in.

“Oh, no, not at all. It’s delicious, actually. He holds it up as though it would somehow demonstrate this fact. An awkward beat passes, in which he gathers all his courage and eloquence to himself. “It’s something else.”

She blinks owlishly, and he notices just how brilliantly green her eyes are. She looks tired, but it does nothing to diminish her natural looks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He turns it so that she can see the name, balancing it carefully so that nothing will spill out. “See, I think I might have mumbled a bit when I first told you my name.”

The first time was six months ago, but he suspects he must have done something similar each time he has been here since. She really does look gorgeous, even with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and the signature green apron.

“Oh.” The implications of this seem to dawn on her as she takes in what he says. To his surprise, her cheeks turn a light pink as she puts her hands over her mouth.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

This was exactly what he was dreading, and if he could smack Eizen with telekinesis he would. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass her.

“Oh, no,” she says, now more to herself than to him. “I do this all the time. I told them they shouldn’t let me-”

“No, no, sweetheart it’s okay.” He fumbles for words, then startles with his own mortification. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She looks at him with a mixture of embarrassment and complete confusion. He is not sure what his own expression conveys.

“What, the nickname?” she asks.

Zaveid really wishes the floor would just swallow him up right now.

“Yeah. Just… forget it, okay? I don’t want to put you on the spot when you’re at work.”

“I…” she looks very surprised at this, which honestly makes him sad. “Okay. Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “No worries.”

“You know, I’ve had worse.” She says it wryly, looking away as her mouth pulls into a sad smile.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” he says before he can think. “It’s a workplace. No one should be hitting on you here.”

She looks at him then with new appreciation. She nods once.

“I appreciate that. So then,” she says, gaining back some of her courage. “What exactly is your name?”

“Hm?” He is a little too absorbed in his thoughts, forgetting almost what the original purpose of the conversation was. “Right. My name. It’s Zaveid.”

“Za-veed?” She enunciates it carefully. “With a Z?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He will never know what possesses him to say what he says next. “As in “I zee what you did there”.”

The joke sparks instant regret, but only until he hears the clear fresh sound of her laughter. She chuckles, her lips curving beautifully as she does so. He thinks he may remember that sound for the rest of his life.

“Not bad,” she says, smile firmly in place. It seems he has unintentionally broken the ice.

He is going to get Eizen a fresh pot of coffee when they make it back to campus. Maybe do the lesson planning for him.

“Thanks,” he says, smiling back.

“I want to be sure I get that right next time, though.” She produces a napkin from behind the counter and a pen from behind her ear. “Could you write it down for me?”

That sounds like an excellent solution. “Sure thing,” he replies, and accepts the pen when she presents it to him. He writes carefully, making it clearly legible for her. Then he puts the pen down on the napkin for her to take back.

She hesitates to do so. For an unforgettable moment, she bites her lip.

“So,” she seems to weigh her words before she says them, “I think that if you were to write down your phone number as well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Zaveid blinks once, twice as he takes in this statement. Hope mingles smoothly with dread.

“I promise that I wasn’t trying to-”

“I know,” she says, looking into his eyes, “but what if I were to do it?”

He opens his mouth, closes it. His lips quirk into a smile.

“Well, that would be a different story,” he says, trying and failing to contain his excitement. “Who am I to deny a beautiful woman her wish?”

She smiles warmly and nods, satisfied. Once again he picks up the pen.

After scribbling his number, and allowing her to strike out the wrong name on his cup to replace it with the proper name, he walks back towards his table as if on air. Eizen waits for him there with a smug smirk on his face.

“So how’d it go?” he asks, but his eyes say he has deduced the tone of the conversation from looks alone. Zaveid points a finger at him.

After 6 years playing, I didn't know that has there 2 different color coins