Chapter Text
When Ava found out J.C. was interested in another girl, he was holding her hand. They were sitting across from each other, the screen of his phone reflected on his sunglasses. By the third or so photo he clicked on, Ava thought, “Not bad.”
When Ava found out they were in correspondence, his phone was face up on the couch and the notification showed her username with the message “hey” which could have been a reply to a previous conversation or an initiation of a new one.
That night she stalked the girl herself. Her feed was filled with desaturated colors, her posts were mainly lyrics, her stories were mostly song links. Rarely did she post anything going on about her life. In the few posts that she did, it was either too vague or too superficial: “hungry”, “too soon!”, “what was that…”
The photos of herself were not the typical ones a guy would be caught frothing at the mouth at. No revealing clothes with a dangerous plunge or strategically posed bikini shots. Instead, they were a set of photos no different than Ava’s feed: her looking at a sunset, her posing on a bench, her reading. Ava couldn’t decide if this made it worse.
When J.C. first talked to her, Ava was with him. He suggested they should try the new cafe that opened a few weeks ago.
“Try something new, you know.”
The girl was a barista there.
From the time they got out of the car, he kept his distance. Maybe so that Ava wouldn’t hold his hand or so that the girl wouldn’t think they were together.
If the girl recognized J.C. from his profile, it didn’t show on her face. The girl was lean, statuesque, almost his height. Her brown hair was neatly tied to a ponytail, a section of it rested over her shoulder. Her uniform was a yellow polo with black bands over the chest, no creases, no stains. Aside from her height and maybe her forearms, there wasn’t anything else to her. But the look that J.C. gave, you would think she was perfect, far too much to be real and attainable. Which, Ava guesses, may have been what propelled him forward in pursuit.
When the girl repeated their orders, J.C. lingered.
When a different barista brought their drinks, he visibly deflated before hiding it with a toothy smile. That smile would remain as their conversation ebbed and flowed. His words tumbled steady as ever but in an octave lower than his normal register. His shoulders were squared, arms posed to make them broader, legs in a wide berth, hair that got raked with his fingers every few minutes. From watching him, it reminded Ava of birds that showed off their vibrant plumes during mating season.
Ava assessed what it was about the girl that was appealing to him. If there was anything that he saw from the words she typed and the music she shared online, it did not appear to Ava. If it was in her appearance, or her voice, there was nothing that she could see.
It became clear that Ava had to talk to her. From the moment she found out he messaged the girl, she already knew she had to leave him but that didn’t necessarily mean she had to leave him immediately. If his pursuit was to get the girl, Ava’s pursuit was to understand why.
J.C.’s gait towards the bathroom was stiff. He stole a glance towards the barista, which proved to be pointless as she had her back to him, preparing another order. A strange feeling, to be aware of the person you are with long for someone else. An even stranger feeling, to ask “ Why her?” and not “ Why not me still?” or are these the same question?
Ava found herself taking out the lid of her coffee cup with the paper straw with it. It was already half-empty, a line of caramel stuck to the side, the ice cubes bobbed as she walked over to the counter. The barista had just finished wiping a table from water rings when she looked up to find Ava with her cup in hand.
“Did you want more ice?”
Ava must have nodded because the barista’s hand came to get the cup. It was inevitable to have their fingers brush during the exchange.
The girl ducked momentarily. There was a crackling of ice as she scooped a handful.
Wanting to stand there longer, Ava heard herself say, “Can I also have one to take out?”
“Sure. What will that be?”
“The same order.”
“Perfect,” she said as she logged Ava’s drink. “Anything else? For the other person you were with, perhaps?”
Ava blinked. “Um, this is for him.”
“Oh! Well, what about you?” She leaned her weight onto the counter, and her voice softened, “Do you want anything?”
J.C. came back from the bathroom just then. From Ava’s peripheral, she saw him do a double take. Neither Ava, nor the girl, turned their heads to him.
Ava’s eyes flashed down to the name badge. “Beatrice.”
She gave a funny look. “Yes?”
“I – ”
“Hey!” J.C. came over. Ava froze.
Beatrice shifted her gaze from Ava to J.C. and flashed him the smile she gave to Ava only a moment ago.
Ava felt a pang of jealousy, no, envy.
“Yes, sir?” she said.
“Um - uh,” he looked at Ava like he wanted her to go away, like she was ruining his shot with Beatrice, like she couldn’t take a hint. “Can I have a glass of water?” he said.
“Certainly, I’ll have that over for you right away.”
It was dismissive.
He could only nod. And to Ava: “You coming back?”
“Yeah, I’ll be over with your water. To save her the trip.”
He pressed his lips together before nodding once. Ava watched him slide awkwardly in their booth.
When Ava turned back to Beatrice, she already had a glass full of ice. “Should I start making your order now?”
“Yes, please.”
When she saw Ava still standing there, she said, “Wanna take a seat?” as she gestured to the bar stool.
The machine whirred as Beatrice made an espresso shot. “So, how come I’ve just seen you today?” Ava watched her measure some fine powder Ava couldn’t even name.
“Oh, we thought that we should check this place out.”
She poured milk from another cup. At an angle, she brought out the frother and looked at Ava. “Huh... He’s a regular here. It’s his third time this week, I think.”
As much as that news surprised Ava, she didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”
Beatrice laughed lightly. “Or he just really likes our coffee.”
Ava shrugged, “Could be both.”
Beatrice gave her a once-over. “Aren’t you his girlfriend?”
“No.” It was a dishonest answer but it felt like the correct one.
She nodded slowly with the barest hint of a smile. “So you are being his wingman right now?”
There was a cool voice that spoke and Ava was stunned to hear it was her own. “No. You’re too pretty for him.”
Her brows rose. “Am I?”
Several responses ballooned in Ava’s chest but she went with a simple shrug.
“When I saw you come in, I thought you were his girlfriend.” Beatrice admitted.
“Am I too pretty for him?”
She leaned in and whispered, “Yeah.”
They shared a laugh.
Beatrice shook her head. “It didn’t make sense anyway. Any time he comes here, he’s always… here , you know? Always tries to force a conversation before making a pass at me. And then he found my social media accounts.” Ava could see the rising irritation in her face. “When I saw you, I thought, finally he found somebody else. But now, I think, he just brought you to, I don’t know –”
“To make you think you blew your chance with him.” Ava completed her thought and Beatrice agreed.
Before the silence could take root and before Ava could fully process the depth of J.C.’s betrayal, she was mesmerized by Beatrice’s show of pouring the frothed milk onto the coffee. After she drizzled a layer of caramel in a checkered pattern, she lifted the drink towards the light that spilled through the windows. “Always nice to have sunshine in your coffee.” As she did, light also touched her face, and the brown of her eyes revealed itself. It was then that Ava understood what J.C. saw in her.
“Wait, this is for him, right?” Then she covered the cup with her hand and lowered it back to the shadows. The pettiness made Ava laugh and Beatrice gave her an unexpected wink. The gesture undid Ava and she felt her heart speed up.
Beatrice squinted her eyes. “Not to meddle but I think he’s waiting for you to come back.” When Ava’s gaze landed on J.C., he quickly turned to look away from them.
“I’ll be with him shortly. Unless you want me gone?”
“No. Do you want to be?”
“Want what?”
“Be with him?”
The clarification still had another follow-up question: be with him in that booth or be with him? Regardless, both had the same answer. “No.” But as soon as Ava said it, she was overcome with dread. A realization that she was no better than J.C.’s muscle-flexing a moment ago. When Beatrice’s mouth curved into a half-smile and Ava noticed for the first time that she had a peppering of freckles on her cheeks, Ava struggled to be mad at him, and struggled, too, to blame him.
Ava had to reel it back in. “What about you? Do you want to be with him?”
Beatrice gave a dry chuckle, taking it as a joke. But whether Ava was driven by self-sabotage or something more sinister, she pushed Beatrice more. “Does he have a chance?
Beatrice’s smile disappeared. “Oh. You’re serious?”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“Sure.”
“Funny, too.”
“Okay.”
“So, should I get your number for him?”
Beatrice’s eyebrows knit in a way that suggested she wasn’t expecting this conversation to get here. That makes two of them.
“Uh,” Beatrice slid Ava’s order in a paper bag and pushed it towards her, “I’m good.” It was spoken in the tone of someone who had no intention of changing their mind.
Ava looked at the bag, unmoving, unsure of how to proceed or what she wanted.
“Oh, your friend’s water.” She said and pushed the glass towards Ava. Just like J.C., she was also being dismissed by the promise of hydration.
Ava walked over to J.C. with cautious steps like she might trip any second.
“Wait!” Beatrice’s voice was loud enough that everybody in the cafe turned. She gestured an apology. “Your drink with more ice,” she said quietly.
Ava felt the disappointment wash over her. She placed the glass of water and the paper bag on their table and began the long trek towards the counter. Ava’s eyes didn’t look up at Beatrice as she silently retrieved her drink.
She plunked down on their booth as she set the cup in front of her.
J.C. leaned in and whispered, “What was that about?”
She sighed and looked at him, her fallen comrade, equally wounded from the battle. “We just talked about coffee. I asked her how to make this at home from alternatives.”
Ava looked at the cup then and saw the string of numbers and the writing at the bottom, “ I’d rather you have my number. Call me. X .”