#sketchywave

Chloe slips into the same chair she had yesterday, deftly avoiding the weird bulge, and sits quietly across from the man. He reads his newspaper, and drinks his coffee, and Beca clearly isn’t coming back before he leaves, so Chloe sets up her computer. When she navigates back to her document, she cringes at the lack of work she did yesterday.

She needs to stop letting Beca distract her, so she dives right in and tries not to think about the mysterious new addition to her cafe.

Her plan doesn’t exactly go smoothly, though, because around 6:45, Beca wanders over with a mug of coffee, white this time, and sets it down in front of the old man. She swipes away his empty coffee mug and walks right back to the counter to help her coworkers.

When the old man reaches for his coffee next, after putting down his newspaper, she can almost see the chain reaction in his mind: reach for mug, oh wait there’s no coffee left, wait why is there a new mug here…

He looks up and looks around and looks imploringly over at the counter. Like she has a sixth sense, Beca looks over at that moment, sends him a smile and a wave, and then goes right back to work. Chloe can see the corners of her mouth are still slightly turned up.

“Thank you, Beca,” he calls out across the coffee shop, and Beca waves him off again.

“No problem, Rick, enjoy.”

Oh Jesus, Chloe thinks. Her anger dissipates almost entirely. She’s sweet and her voice is sexy. Chloe glances down mournfully at her computer, already admitting defeat, already knowing that today is the day she’s going to talk to Beca.

She’s also disappointed in herself. Since when does she get so irritated over small things like a chair in a coffee shop? And why doesn’t she know that the nice old man she used to switch chairs with is named Rick, when she’s been here longer?

It feels a little like she’s lost herself somewhere along the way in the past few years, settling into what she thought was a routine of adulthood, but now that she thinks more critically, seems more and more like a rut.

When did she stop making friends everywhere she goes and get so… so self-involved?

She shudders and takes a comforting sip of her macchiato. The more she thinks about it, the less she likes discovering what she’s brushed aside as the naivete of youth. She vows to be better.

Glancing over at the brunette, who’s now working the till instead of the frother, she nods to herself and even though she has almost half her drink left, she downs it quickly. She waits a moment for all the new liquid to settle into her stomach before she gets up and joins the back of the now nine-person-deep line, almost out the door.

“Hello there, can I get you another caramel macchiato?” Beca asks as Chloe approaches the counter.

Chloe beams, “Yes, please.”

“Caramel macchiato, half-sweet, for Chloe,” Beca calls over her shoulder, already ringing through the refill charge.

“Wait, how did you-”

Beca chuckles. “Emily says you’re here every day and you always get the same thing.”

Sure enough, when Chloe glances over at her usual barista, Emily gives a little wave before going right back to steaming milk.

“Well, thanks,” Chloe says, holding out her hand so Beca can pour coins into it. “Beca,” she adds.

Beca smirks. “No problem.”

Chloe steps away, toward the pick-up counter, and watches Beca interact with the next customer, and then the one after that, before she’s able to pick up her coffee and head back to her new spot.

Rick’s coffee is already three quarters gone, and he’s pushed his newspaper aside to just stare out the window instead. Normally, Chloe would’ve left him alone, but now that she’s trying to get back to college Chloe, she’s on a mission.

She sits down across from him, puts down her drink, and leans forward in her chair. “Hi there!” she greets brightly. He turns to look at her and smiles a little.

“Hello.”

“So your name’s Rick? My name’s Chloe. I see you in here a lot. Nice to finally meet you!” And Chloe sticks out her hand.

Rick takes it and gives it a good one-pump shake. “Nice to meet you, too.” He shifts a little in his seat. “You’re here early today.”

Chloe blushes a little at this. “I was trying to scope it out and see why Beca kept beating me to inheriting your chair, but now I understand.” She settles back into her new spot. “And this chair is pretty good, so long as you avoid the bump.”

That gets a laugh out of the man, and it’s so nice to have an innocent conversation with someone that it strikes Chloe how much she’s missed it.

“It doesn’t come pre-warmed though, does it?” Rick asks, playfully.

She laughs softly, “No, it doesn’t, but I guess I’ll live.” Chloe sighs a little for dramatic effect and Rick practically glows at the attention.

He drinks the last of his coffee, and looks a little forlornly at the mug. Chloe looks at him questioningly, but when Rick catches her eye, he just shrugs. “I’m not supposed to have more than one cup of coffee per day,” he admits. “Doctor said something about all the caffeine.”

Suddenly, Chloe’s good will toward Beca wanes.

“Oh, no!” She says, wringing her hands. Already, she’s thinking of ways to talk to Beca about potentially harming the health of one of her customers.

“Don’t worry about it,” a voice interjects, and Chloe turns to see Beca smiling at Rick. “It’s decaf, old man, so it’s got all the flavour and none of the crap.”

Chloe almost swoons.

Beca’s changed out of her cafe shirt, instead donning some sort of dark blue tank top with a red plaid shirt overtop, and still on top of that, a black hoodie.

“Thank you, Beca,” Rick says, as he gets up from the chair and folds his newspaper under his arm, blanket falling off of his shoulders as he goes.

“Like I said, no problem, Rick,” Beca smiles, taking a step to the side. “Have a good day!”

Rick nods, “I will, thank you, you ladies, too.” Chloe feels a little pleasurable spark at being included with Beca. He walks off and Beca drops into the chair, wrapping her blanket around herself. She reaches into her bag to pull out her headphones and Chloe realizes that her window for a conversation is vanishing as she watches.

“Hey,” Chloe says, an edge of panic to her voice. Beca pauses in her movements.

“Hey…?”

“So do you own this place now, then?” Chloe asks, the question pouring out of her. She’d meant to check if Beca was, indeed, new in town, and then try to use that as a segue to meet up with Beca outside of the coffee shop.

Beca laughs. It’s not just an amused chuckle or a couple of ‘heh’s; it’s a full on chortle, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her lifetime. Chloe just sits there confused and patient.

“No, I don’t own the place. I’m just helping out for a few days. I’m friends with the actual owner, Jesse. He needed some help, I was passing through, so why not, you know?” Beca pulls her headphones onto her lap and reaches into her bag again, drawing out her laptop.

Chloe knows Jesse, has met him a bunch over the time she’s spent sequestered in what is now Beca’s chair. And she doesn’t mean to be rude, but, “How do you two know each other?”

Almost anyone aside from Chloe would’ve blushed at pressing for information, but Chloe just leans forward a little bit in her chair to show she’s interested, and smiles warmly.

Beca shifts her headphones so they lie on top of her closed laptop, and picks up her coffee instead. She scoots back, like she’s settling in for a lengthy conversation, and wraps her hands around the mug.

“We went to the same music finishing school.”

Chloe grins, “I love music! What did you two do there?”

Beca takes a sip before responding, “Jesse pursued thematic scoring; he’s really into movies. I took a degree in music engineering.” Chloe nods along as Beca speaks.

“So, now Jesse owns a coffee shop and you…?”

“I produce music. I’ve also been known to DJ a little on the side, but it happens less often these days.”

Bobbing her head, Chloe asks, “Anything I might’ve heard?”

Beca tilts her head like she’s thinking about it. “On the production side, yes, if you listen to the radio. On the DJ side, only if you find mixes in the furthest corners of the internet.”

Chloe just stares at her expectantly.

Beca sighs into a chuckle. “You know Halsey?”

Wide-eyed, Chloe nods quickly. Beca shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“That’s so awesome, Beca! Wow! She’s got some sick beats,” Chloe compliments. Beca tries to hide her pleasure at the compliment behind an awkward smile.

“Thanks.”

“Whom else?”

“Um, I’ve done some stuff with Justin Timberlake, a couple with Ed Sheeran, once I was graced to help Beyonce, and there have been a few others.” Beca fidgets with the edges of her blanket.

“Damn,” Chloe whistles. “So, you’re like, famous hey?”

Immediately Beca is shaking her head, “No, no, no, I just play with some buttons and dials and stuff. I’m not famous.”

But Chloe will not be put off. “What’s your DJ name?”

Beca blushes hard. “Oh, um, it’s just Beca Mitchell. Or DJ double B. Or DJ B. I never really wanted a DJ-something name, though. If David Guetta doesn’t need one nor do I.”

Chloe freezes. “Shut. Up.”

So Beca stares uncomfortably.

“Shut up!” And then Chloe’s vibrating with glee, talking animatedly, “I love your stuff, oh my God, you’re not as hard to find as you think you are. How did you come up with the “Bulletproof” and “Titanium” mashup? The “500 Miles” one? You did a whole slew of Halsey mashups; it makes so much sense now!”

Beca swallows audibly. “Whoa. Okay. Calm down. Still shitty temporary barista Beca.”

But Chloe ploughs on, relentlessly, “Is that what you’re doing on your computer? I knew you couldn’t be writing, but I thought maybe you were doing accounting stuff for this place. Now that I know what I know, though, is it true?”

“So you’ve been watching me?”

That stops Chloe in her tracks. “Oh, um, well, I-”

Thankfully, Beca laughs. “Relax, Chloe. Yes, I’m working on some new mixes and mashups. I don’t perform much anymore, but I still release the stuff I make in my spare time.”

Chloe visibly relaxes. “How long are you here for, then, Ms. Badass Producer Lady?”

“Well, I’m covering for Jess for another week, and then I’m heading back to LA for a few sessions. Then, I dunno. I’ll be around.”

Beca’s eyes drift down and notice that Chloe’s cup and her own are empty. She shakes off her blanket and takes them over to the counter, washing her hands before making their drinks. This time, she doesn’t make herself a black coffee because Chloe watches her pour steamed milk into both of their mugs, not just hers.

When she walks back, Chloe asks, “What’d you get this time?”

Settling back into her blanket, Beca shrugs. “Same as you. I don’t usually go for the sweet stuff, but I only added half the sweetener you get. It’s halfway okay.”

“Rude,” Chloe states, taking a sip and smiling.

“That’s what people keep telling me,” Beca agrees.

There’s a brief silence over the two of them as they both grip onto their warm mugs and just kind of settle.

“Oh wait,” Chloe exclaims quickly, putting down her cup and shoving a hand into her jacket pocket. “I owe you $2.95 for the refill.”

Beca just waves her off, “It’s on the house. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe hesitates to put her change back into her pocket.

“I’m sure, Chloe. It’s fine. I’m the boss remember? At least for the week.” Beca glances around for a second before setting her gaze back on Chloe. “So what do you do here all day? Em says you’re here basically all day every day.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to flush lightly. “Oh, I’m a writer.”

Beca grins, “Anything I’d know?”

Chloe screws up her nose a little in thought. “I generally write historical fiction or non-fiction, and you don’t strike me as the type.”

Laughing, Beca nods, “Yeah, I barely read, but when I do, it’s generally a YA novel Jesse’s recommended or books about music.”

“The music bit is a little predictable, Becs,” Chloe informs her, leaning back comfortably in her chair and taking a sip of her drink.

“What can I say, I’m an open book,” Beca jokes. “Seriously though, what’ve you written? Maybe I’ll try it out.”

“You’ll be here tomorrow, right?” Chloe asks, changing the subject.

A little confused, Beca replies, “Yeah, why?”

“I’ll bring some of my books. If you want to read any of them, you can just have them,” Chloe says. She leans down to dig into her bag for her pad of sticky notes, grabs her pen from the tabletop, and writes herself a note so she doesn’t forget.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” Beca attempts to backpedal.

Chloe waves her off. “Show me some of the stuff you’re working on, but haven’t finished, and we’ll call it a trade.”

“Deal,” Beca agrees, “but only stuff that’s my own.” She shrugs. “Confidentiality contracts and all that jazz.”

“That’s so cool,” Chloe says a little dreamily.

Beca raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her coffee while Chloe blushes lightly. “Sorry.”

But Beca just shakes her head with a small smile. “What are you working on right now, Hemingway?”

Chloe giggles briefly as she hits a few keys on her laptop. “Not quite the right genre, but I’ll give it to you,” Chloe answers. “As long as you don’t think I’m an alcoholic.” She turns the screen towards Beca.

Shrugging, Beca scoots forward in her seat to get a better look at Chloe’s screen as she replies, “Eh, we don’t know each other well enough yet. I’m reserving judgment.”

“So you think we’ll get to know each other more?”

Beca’s cheeks redden. “Maybe just hoping.”

Chloe smiles widely and gestures to the screen. “Right now I’m working on an article for National Geographic about territorialism in domestic animals,” Chloe explains. “Maybe you could help me with the human angle?”

Beca moves her gaze from the screen to Chloe’s face, confusion evident. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Chloe grins, happy that Beca’s taken the bait. “Well, for example, I’m very territorial about my coffee shop seat,” she trails off as she watches Beca’s confusion deepen.

“Okay…?”

“And for the last three days,” Chloe smirks, “a certain brunette best friend of the manager has been stealing it.”

Beca’s mouth drops open in a soft ‘o.’ “Oh my God–”

“Which is a clear breach of my territory, however, like animals in the wild, I can be appeased,” Chloe explains helpfully, cutting off what she assumes will be an apology. “Say dinner tonight? 7?”

She watches as Beca’s face flows from confusion and apologies to slow realization, and finally, through to a smile.

“You’re good,” Beca acknowledges, and tips an imaginary hat.

Chloe almost purrs at the compliment. “Thanks.”

Beca pulls a small notebook out of her bag, rips a page out, and writes on it. When she hands it to Chloe, she shrugs, “I don’t usually carry my phone on me, but you should probably text me an address or someplace where I’ll be picking you up.”

Excitedly, Chloe takes the slip of paper and makes a big show of entering the number into her phone, which is almost always on her. “Thanks!” she says brightly. “I’m Chloe Beale, by the way,” she waves Beca off as she opens her mouth. “We already know your last name, so I thought I would level the playing field.”

“Well, thanks, Chloe Beale,” Beca replies, playing with one of the ear cushions on her headphones. Then she gestures down at Chloe’s laptop. “When’s your deadline?”

Immediately, Chloe winces. “Like… two days ago?”

Beca’s laughter is immediate and full, even though it’s quiet to match the coffee shop’s atmosphere. “I’d be so dead if I was that late.”

Blushing, Chloe defends herself, “It’s kind of, like, a thing in the publishing industry. Writers are late. Even when we try not to be!”

“Oh really?” Beca asks, amusement evident, disbelief clear.

Chloe nods emphatically. “Oh yeah, my editors have a policy where they give all writers early deadlines so that they can afford the extra time when the writer’s late.”

Beca just raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Chloe admits, “I’m not supposed to know in case I abuse the safety net they’ve created for themselves, but it still works! I just feel less bad when I’m late.”

“So how much of a cushion do you have?”

“Like a week?” Chloe says, tilting her head to the side. “Something like that.”

Beca hums. “And how close are you to being finished?”

“... Not very,” Chloe says and she meets Beca’s inquisitive stare.

The two of them hold eye contact for a moment.

“Okay, well, you work on your book, and I’ll work on my music so that A. I meet my deadline because in the music industry, you cannot be late. If you’re close to the deadline, you’re considered late. And B. So that when I take you out later and blow your mind with awesomeness, I won’t feel guilty about pulling you from your responsibilities.”

“That sounds good, Becs,” Chloe smiles.