#filaacs

falling in love at a coffee shop

i. (sneak peak!)

October 13

The cold NYC wind is forgiving for once, all things considered. You had just spent your evening watching over seven sugar high eight-year-olds that had decided finger painting was the ideal after school activity. It was laborious at times and their parents probably weren’t too pleased, but the kids were happy.

(read pt. 1 - monday morning, here) 

Tuesday

He was early for the first time in two weeks. Niall, the pop star who claimed mornings were the worst, intentionally left his flat at 6:45AM to reach West London Coffee Co. at opening time. Niall wanted to thank Gemma for yesterday, or so he says.

Gemma was a blonde twenty-something year-old with blue eyes. Niall couldn’t remember a time he was at the café and Gemma wasn’t. Every morning she smiled at him when the bell chimed and kept a great poker-face while he spelt his name.

“Niall?” she asked cluelessly two Tuesdays ago, “Can you spell that?”

“N-I-A-L-L.”

Gemma bit her lip and scrunched her eyebrows. “One more time. Can’t hear you over that Scottish accent?”

“Irish,” he corrected with a smile. Gemma knew he was Irish--Niall was sure of it. He reckoned she also knew that he was Niall Horan, the singer. There’d be no other explanation for her callous reaction to the biweekly selfies he would take on his way out.

“You’re not Scottish?” she inquired with a fake look of innocence.

“Nope. I-R-I-S-H.” Niall silently cursed himself for the lame attempt at a joke.

That Tuesday he walked out of the coffee shop with a blueberry muffin and a cup labeled: Irish. He laughed as soon as he saw it and posted a photo on Instagram.

Niall woke up early to see the funny blonde that always greeted with a smile. He walked in, glanced around, and sighed. She wasn’t here. It was 7:01. There were three baristas, and not one was Gemma. He ordered his drink from the guy from yesterday and was disappointed when he saw his name written correctly. Niall sat down in a booth and opened up his emails.

“Gemma’s not Tuesday mornings anymore,” the barista said as he brought him his order. Niall noticed his name tag said Mason. “I noticed you were looking around.”

Niall was embarrassed that the staff had noticed their frequent encounters. He sheepishly asked, “When are her shifts now?”

Mason handed him a napkin with chuckle before walking away. He had scribbled her schedule on a napkin with some advice for the regular customer that seemed to fancy his co-worker.

Mon, Wed, Fri 7-11AM Tues, Thur 5-9PM

Read parts 1-5.

Niall sat in his car. Engine off, radio silent. He breathed in and out slowly in hopes of gaining composure before walking into West London Coffee Co; he was nervous to see Gemma. Last night they texted for hours--a little bit about his secret performance tomorrow night and a lot about anything they could think of. Their hopes, dreams, fears, favorite films. Niall had never met anyone easier to speak to than Gemma. When he spoke, he felt like she understood his entire existence. He suddenly wasn’t famous anymore. He was just Niall.

And that is what terrified him the most.

Niall opened the door to the coffee shop and the familiar smell comforted him. When he saw her face and focused on that smile, the one any bloke would kill to be on the receiving end of, all fears and anxiety about expectations vanished. She was just Gemma. He was just Niall, and that was enough.

“Good morning,” she started and handed him his usual order. He raised an eyebrow. “You texted that you’d be here at opening so I thought I should have it ready for her.” She blushed.

“Thanks,” he mumbled back. The morning rush of customers began to flow in so Niall sat down at his usual table after a couple minutes of conversation. He chuckled when a large group of people came in because she unconsciously released a large disappointed sigh. He had never noticed how much she hated working in a coffee shop until she admitted it. Every time he saw her she was nothing but joy.

Niall took a sip of his cappuccino. It took a minute before he read the name: Ni. That was a new one. A couple family members called him by that nickname and many of his fans, but it had been a while. Ni. He loved it. He loved it here.It took a little over a month to figure out why he loved this place so much. For weeks, he convinced himself that it was the quality coffee or the fact that not that many people recognized him. Niall now knew he had been lying to himself the entire time. It was because of her, because of Gemma, he realized. He never knew before this week. Suddenly full of inspiration. Niall grabbed a pen from his pant pocket and started scribbling on his napkin.

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much All of the while, I never knew It was you.

His thoughts were interrupted by four converses coming into his field of vision. He took pictures with the teenage girls and signed autographs. They claimed they found this place from his tweet yesterday. He exposed his haven while trying to save it. He smiled at the two before looking towards Gemma. Her eyes gazed longingly out the window toward the path into the garden. She was so beautiful. Beautiful and trapped.

After the girls had gone, Niall walked back up to Gemma. His watch reading 8:00AM. He was disappointed that he didn’t get to talk to her more, but now that probably could be solved by a text message. He cringed yesterday as he gave the smirking Mason the envelope. Luckily, Gemma didn’t think it was nearly as creepy as he worried it might be.

“I gotta go. Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. Will I see you before the show?” she asked quietly, hoping no one would hear.

“Of course, love.”

She smiled and walked around the counter to give him a hug. Both arms wrapped tightly around the other. “Well, see you, Ni.”

Read parts 1, 2 & 3

“Isn’t in obvious?” Gemma groaned and banged her head against the espresso machine melodramatically, spurring a laugh from her co-worker, Mason.

“Must not be to him,” he muttered, placing a hand on her shoulder, “He’d be daft not to want to take you out.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “What? I heard you put out on the first date!” he chuckled and dodged her evil glare by going to take a customer’s order.

Gemma claimed to be a single, independent woman who didn’t need a man. However, that does not mean she didn’t want a man--specifically a man with a golden laugh and glowing eyes. Niall Horan might be the nicest lad she’s met in West London Coffee Co. and also the most clueless. She flirts with him every day in the most obvious way. Why else would she call him Scottish Neil? That melodious accent could not be from anyone without a native Irish tongue. She should know. Her father lives in Dublin, and she spent every summer there during childhood. 

She sighed and looked at the clock before changing her glance to the door. It was 8:30AM, and she knew he had to be somewhere by 9:00AM every weekday morning. He had missed his morning fix a few times, but after their talk last night, she thought maybe he’d come. 

“So the pop-star’s really going to save our open mic-night?” her boss, Emily, interrupted her thoughts. She was a tall redhead with a very blunt and to-the-point personality. 

“Yes,” Gemma responded nervously. Emily always made her nervous. Perhaps it was the way her eyes lowered to meet hers in an almost annoyed fashion. “He seemed excited about it.”

“Well, that’s great.” This may be the first time Emily told her she was doing something well. Usually their conversations consisted of her listing all the things she was doing wrong. “Just make sure it’s a controllable audience,” she added before walking to the office in the back.

Gemma hadn’t thought about how many people could potentially show up to see solo Niall on hiatus. Slow Hands and This Town were killing the charts, and his fans were very dedicated. She considered asking Niall next time she spoke to him about having it a secret show like the one Harry described on her favorite show, Late Late Show with James Corden. Before she could plan that, however, Niall needed to show up. She checked the clock again. It didn’t look like he was.

Hours of making coffee, serving muffins, and placing orders later, the bell chimed once more at 10:44AM. Gemma had stopped glancing up many customers ago. She did not expect to see him there, and Niall did not expect Mason to give two thumbs-up and a wink upon entering.

“Hi,” she spoke quietly.

“Good morning, Emma.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you, Neil.” Mason fake gagged in the corner at their awful flirting. Could they be anymore juvenile, he internally inquired.

“Can you take a break to talk about Saturday.”

“Technically, it’s work-related. Lets head out to the patio seating, where it’s quiet.” He followed her before they sat down in iron chairs across from each other. “Thank you so much again,” Gemma reminded.

“Anything to keep my favorite coffee shop alive,” Niall told her, “This place is packed in the morning. Why is it going out-of business?”

“Well, not many people are here during the day and evening. My boss is thinking about cutting hours and laying people off if we can’t get regular business.”

Niall considered this for a moment. Before pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the West London Coffee Co.’s sign. “I’m going to tweet this when I leave. I bet more people will show up; this place is pretty hidden.”

Gemma smiled. “You don’t have to do that--”

“--I want to. Don’t want you to be without a job.”

She laughed. “Well I’ll probably quit soon. I love the coffee, but I graduate uni next semester. Time to get a proper office job,” she sighed.

Niall looked at her the way Gemma always wanted someone to when she spoke. Every bit of his attention was on her. She felt important in his eyes. He scrunched his eyebrows. “Is that what you want?”

Gemma had been planning to become an accountant, like her mother, uncles and aunts. That whole side of the family was full of white-collar professionals. She was brainwashed into thinking that a career in the arts wasn’t practical. So she majored in accounting, and she was decent enough at solving financial problems and entering numbers into excel and data bases. The pay would be great, and it’d be predictable hours for the rest of her life. The only issue was that she hated it. She hated how when she closed her eyes she saw excel cells, and she hated how empty she felt after studying her business textbooks.

“No one’s every asked me that before,” Gemma confessed.

“Not even your Mum?” This caused Gemma to blabber on for ten minutes about how her whole family was full of accountants and finance agents, how much she hated it, and that she didn’t know what else to. After she was finished, Niall asked, “Well what does your dad do?”

“Owns a music/record shop in Dublin.”

Niall looked taken back. Gemma had name-dropped Dublin on purpose in hopes of gaining connection. She figured he had been there before. He grinned widely when they conversed about the name and location.

“I used to go there on the weekends when I was a teenager,” he rambled, “I loved looking through the record stacks for hours. Would barely buy anything, but it was all a good fun. Are you Irish? Cause you sound British?”

“Sort-of. My parents are divorced. He moved back to Dublin when I was eight.”

“Mine too.” Her arms were crossed on the table separating the two. Niall reached over and placed his large, calloused hand gently on her forearm. “It sucks.” She didn’t flinch. Gemma was trying not to hyperventilate that her longtime crush, Niall, was touching her. Does this count as making a move?

The rest of her break was spent speaking about her summers in Ireland, their favorite movies, and anything in between. They planned that he would play about an hour, charge ten euros for tickets which would be donated to the coffee shop, and announce the show a little before. He assured Gemma his management could handle the possibility of too many people showing up and planning the announcement. “It’s going to be a lot of fun,” he mused.

“I’m excited to see you live. I saw you a couple years ago here in London.”

“Really? I didn’t think you were a fan.”

“Who isn’t,” she chuckled. He blushed.

Niall didn’t want to leave, but he was already receiving text messages from his assistant that he needed to start heading to a photo shoot. He loved speaking to Gemma. After their conversation, he felt like he really knew her, and she hoped that she knew him: the Niall that likes indie coffee shops and playing golf, not the Niall that has millions of twitter followers and multiple hit-singles.

“Thanks for coming,” Gemma said and stood up. She didn’t know the proper greeting to give. Was she supposed to hug him? Or shake his hand? Luckily, Niall answered that for her.

He wrapped his arms around her for a couple seconds longer than necessary. Ducked his head down and placed it into her strawberry scented hair and squeezed. He almost kissed her cheek, but stopped himself. Gemma was not his girlfriend.

Read Part 1 & Part 2 

Tuesday PM

Niall had a headache. Thus he sought out a solution: caffeine. That is why arrived at West London Coffee Co. at 8:00PM on a Tuesday afternoon; it was for no other reason--he convinced himself. However, he did have an abundance of tea, soda, and coffee at home. So why did he drive fifteen minutes to a quiet, old coffee shop when he could walk five minutes to a Starbucks that served more than muffins and coffee?

Gemma. 

No, it’s not because of her, he told to himself as soon as the bell chimed. At this point, he does not know the true reason why he always stumbles back here, and hee does not know that he’ll fall in love with the way she drums her fingers on the counter, how she really listens when he speaks, and the look she will eventually give him.

Gemma didn’t hear the chime of the bell. Niall interrupted her wiping down the counter, “Hello,” he started nervously. She turned around and the look of recognition made him feel something; something he hadn’t felt since he was young and naive. 

“This isn’t your usual time, Niall.” 

“This isn’t your usual time,” he retorted.

She wanted to inquire how he would’ve known that, but she held her tongue to save for a later time. Instead, “What would you like?”

“Hmm... a latte.” She raised her eyebrows. 

“No cappuccino?”

“Already had one, love.” Gemma didn’t react, and Niall was thankful. He didn’t mean to call her that. It naturally floated off his lips. “and a pumpkin muffin.”

“For here or to-go?”

Niall smiled, “For here.”

The next several minutes were spent silently reading tweets from the sofa. There was no one else in the coffee shop besides him and a thirty-something year-old on a laptop. Probably a screenwriter. Niall wanted to talk to Gemma again, but what would he say? Usually he was never nervous around girls after gaining confidence in One Direction. However, Gemma wasn’t like the usual. She was witty, smart, and gorgeous. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by saying something stupid.  

Niall noticed the bulletin board to the right wall. It was mostly business cards and advertisements. However, one posting stuck out.

TALENT NEEDED!!! An all ages open-mic night this Saturday! Poets, singers, writers, etc. come share your talent to a friendly group of caffeine addicts! Sign up below to save the West London Coffee Co!

“No one signed up,” Gemma interrupted his reading as she set down his order. Before Niall could even offer his voice, she added, “and normally I would never ask for a favor from you, and I know this is not your usual type of gig, and I underst--”

“--I’ll do it,” he interrupted her blabber. 

A look of relief flooded her face; the forehead wrinkle she developed relaxed. “Really?”

“Of course.”

Gemma smiled and sat down at the sofa next to him. “This Saturday is the first open-mic night, and I’m in charge of the event. We came up with the idea to try to get more customers, but no one was interested.” She looked at him, and he gazed into her deep blue eyes. “I hope some people show up,” she sighed.

Niall chuckled, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

“Sometimes I forget how famous you are.” When Niall was in this coffee shop, so did he. Maybe that’s why he loved it here so much. “Until a surprised fan begs for a selfie. It’s unfortunate if it’s before you have you cappuccino because then you don’t really smile.”

“I hate mornings,” he grumbled.

“Yet you always come,” she countered with a knowing grin, almost flirtatiously.

Niall was still convincing himself he did not fancy Gemma, so he shifted the conversation back to its purpose. “Do you want me to ask some of my friends or do you just want me?”

“Whatever you want. You can play however short or long you want. Artistic freedom!” she laughed.

“Well I can do This Town, Slow Hands, a couple covers... Maybe if you’re lucky an unreleased song or two.”

“I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

He retorted, “‘Artistic freedom,’ eh.”

She laughed and relaxed against the sofa. “Thank you so much for doing this. I know I mess with you every day about the Neil thing. I’m sorry, but honestly I hate this job. I only did it because I get free coffee while I go to uni down the street. It’s very boring and coming up with different spellings of Niall is fun.”

Niall didn’t know she was in uni, and he also didn’t know she hated this job. Every time he saw her, she was like magic. Full of smiles and joy. Later, he would realize that she was only acting like that because she was in his presence.

“I kind-of like it,” he admitted and unconsciously wrapped a flyaway hair behind her ear. She shivered at his touch. Niall thought he might of crossed a line, but she didn’t scoot away. This moment was something different for the two. The screenplay writer staring at them from a corner looked away, thinking the moment was too intimate for his prying eyes.

Their moment was interrupted by a chime of a new customer entering. “Time to get back at it,” she sighed, starting to the counter.

Niall thought this would be a good time to go home. His headache was gone, and the night sky was already black . “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emma,” he called as he approached the exit.

“Gemma,” she corrected with a single raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, love can’t hear you over that American accent!” 

silent-on-the-hunt

Hanji was just typing up her notes that she had taken during the lecture, her hand writing barely being legible to others. She decided to go to the 24 hour coffee shop on the campus to do her work, purely because of the coffee that was on tap to keep her up for research after wards.