Summary: Meet Seraf, she is an average girl working in a coffee shop and a talented violinist. Meet Alain, rich guy and a music protege. Their only in common denominator? They’re both musicians. Who would thought that there’s romance brewing between the two?
“Good Morning! Welcome to Perfect Brew! May I take your order?” I smiled.
Yes, my usual greeting as I stand behind the counter taking orders in my morning shift every Saturday. After taking the customer’s order, I would leave the counter and prepare whatever they wanted. Working as a barista at this famous coffee shop has its perks. One of them is the satisfaction that you are earning your own money. For a working student like me, extra cash is a luxury. Also, you get to meet and be-friend frequent customers who are either a very cute guy or a flamboyant gay guy and cool socialite women. Besides the cash and the cute guys, it give me a sense of independence and the percolating aroma of my favorite drink in the world. Coffee.
Yes, I am a coffee geek. I breathe and live coffee. My day is not complete without a hot cup of brewed coffee or cafe mocha. Oh sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. The name is Seraphim Carmichael a junior at St. Philippe Music Academy. Yep, I’m a music major, besides obsessing for coffee, music is something that has been my life. I’m a 9th grade level in the violin and a 6th grade level in the piano. I’m currently learning to play the Cello and the Flute. I consider myself extremely lucky enrolled in a prestigious music school like St. Philippe even it’s tad expensive. I’m not a musical prodigy and no scholar and the tuition is burning a huge hole in my parent’s wallets. That’s why when Perfect Brew advertise an opening for a barista, I grab the chance. Now, here I am a certified barista. I work every Monday, Wednesday and Friday after school hours and Saturday mornings. As I said, extra cash is a luxury. At least I get to pay for my miscellaneous fees every enrollment.
“Hey you!” a male voice called out to me.
I cringed. I know that voice. I smiled at the customer. A forced a smile. This customer is a frequent one but my least favorite. He goes by name of Alain Konig. He is rich, extremely handsome and a music prodigy. His skills in the guitar and piano is superb and almost inhuman. St. Philippe is honored to have him enrolled in their school. He has about 3 fan clubs which I am not a member. He drives a black expensive Ferrari, he dressed like a goth (he is always in black, sue me) and very much into poetry. Everybody adores him except for me. I found him arrogant, cocky and very monotonous. His face is always stoic and his eyes expresses no emotions. Though his music is filled with it, he himself seems devoid of it.
“One cup of Espresso. Make it quick.” he ordered.
Yeah, he’s not just arrogant but demanding too. A damn perfectionist in almost everything, even with his coffee. He always orders an Espresso and he likes it spiced up. After he paid for his order, he grabs a seat near the window in the corner and started scribbling. It’s either he is writing a new poem or he is composing a new song to show-off. Fine, fine so what if I’m wee bit jealous? So what if I do harbor a small crush on him because of his talent.? Urgh. Anyway, I prepare his espresso as he likes it. As I mix it, my co-barista Kea nudge me saying, “I envy you. Every time he goes here, you always have the chance to take and prepare his coffee and serve it to him.”
I roll my eyes and said, “You want to serve it to him? Go, I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?” she exclaimed looking love-strucked.
“Go. It’s not like I’ll die.” I said grimly. So there, Kea got the chance to serve her crush his Espresso. Seconds later, Kea came back with the Espresso.
“What?” I ask. Don’t tell me he wanted to change his drink? I prepared it just as he like it.
“He changed his mind. He wanted it to-go.” Kea replied.
Odd. Alain Konig never to-go his order. He always dine in. Oh well, I prepared another batch and had it in a Styrofoam cup with a lid on it. This time, I have to give it to him because Kea is busy taking an order with a picky customer. I walked over to him saying, “Sir, here’s your Espresso.”
He looked at me and said, “Thanks Seraf.”
Seraf. He said my name. How did he knew my name? Oh yeah, my name tag. “Seraf Carmichael right? Or did I get it wrong?” He replied again.
“Yes, that’s me.” I replied looking confused. He knew my full name. I’ve always believed that I don’t exist in his world. He took the cup from my hand, opened the lid and took a sip.
“I thought you wanted it to-go?” I ask.
“I changed my mind.” He said not looking at me. Weird. I went back to my post still feeling confused of how he knew me. I’m not popular. Actually, I’m just an average student with average looks and average friends. Unlike him, surrounded with popular students.
An hour passed, Alain left. I approached his table to clean it and found a piece of paper. I was shocked that it wasn’t a poem or musical notes scribbled on it. It was a letter addressed to me.
I know you because I’ve always been watching you play the violin in the orchard. I’ve always thought you play beautifully. I’m looking forward playing a duet with you. You playing the violin and me on the piano. I think it will be a perfect brew.
I could feel my heart fluttering and butterflies started to form in my stomach. Now, that’s why he knows my name. That’s the reason why he goes here and make it sure it’s me taking and preparing his order. Alain Konig has always been watching me. Watching me. I was interrupted in my thoughts as I hear a tap on the window. I looked up only to see Alain standing there smiling at me. I blushed. The next thing I knew, I was outside talking to him and about his letter. Perfect Brew huh? Why not?