Chapter Text
“Oh crap.”
It's pouring rain and I'm running late. Extremely late, to the point where Ben had to come in at the last minute and open because my idiotic self had slept through all twelve alarms I set. Yeah, I was screwed.
And the worst part was that it was raining so hard my hair was drenched. I guess I tested my luck too much the week prior, taking the fog and dark clouds for granted. Now I was shivering, even the short ten minute bus ride I took to cut my travel time in half didn't help warm me up, although it was packed full of people like we were sardines in a can. I just had another five minutes before I would get there, and I was only two hours late.
God, I pray I don't get fired over this.
I know I complain a lot, more than the average human male of my age if I had to take a wild guess, but I do secretly enjoy parts of this job. Like the free drinks each shift or the tips I get from making jokes with old ladies. It's decent money for a customer service job, in the hindsight of things, and despite how much weight I've lost since living on a tighter budget I would say I'm doing pretty well in my position. Physically at least. We're ignoring the emotional toll.
It would be a shame to go back to square one— broke and unemployed. At least right now I was only one of those things.
Losing this job would mean I not only lose a somewhat mediocre income but also one of the only places in San Francisco that I actually like going to. I spent years coming here and studying, hiding out in the corner tables and sprawling my books out on every surface that was available. I didn’t wanna lose another sense of comfort, not after everything that's happened already.
With the chilling temperatures I can see the cold breath in front of my face and my shoes are absolutely wrecked. There's a sub zero chance I’ll be working for the first part of my shift just due to the fact that I'm a walking disaster right now. The rain keeps pelting down harder and every driver in San Francisco seems to be in a hurry based on how many puddles they keep speeding through— thankfully none of it ends up on my clothes, otherwise I would have to turn back and head home, hoping to not get fired.
I'm trying to stay under the canopies of local businesses but each one is too short to seek shelter under, or the gaps between the vinyl signs and metal rods holding it in place—- It's just bad luck.
I give up. It’s faster if I just focus on speed walking through the rain in the middle of the sidewalk than trying to spiderman my way around just to avoid the inevitable. The day’s already ruined, I’m soaked down to my boxers, and I’m probably going to lose my job. It’s so over.
Not many people are on the street, which makes keeping my head down and praying a lot easier. It takes me a second to realize I hear somebody running behind me, the only clue being that the puddles splash louder than any sound a raindrop could make, and then I feel it— Somebody appears beside me, and the overwhelming sounds of rain above my head dampen slightly as I try not to jump out of my own skin. I’m quick to turn my head, only to see—-
It's that girl again.
Despite the layers and layers covering her, leaving her dressed like a penguin from the arctic, I can see her eyes and nose poking out from her jacket collar and baseball cap. It's her, undoubtedly, and she's standing beside me holding something over my head. I can't even speak. This is the closest she's ever gotten to me, and if I waver to the side at all then her arm will brush against mine because she's holding an umbrella above my head.
Oh my god.
“It's you.”
She was probably on her way to the cafe when she saw me soaking wet and looking like an abandoned poodle, but it doesn’t answer why she would try to catch up with me only to stand here and give me that vaguely annoyed look she always casts my way. All of this just to keep me dry when I’m already shivering in my own clothes from how long I’ve been walking for.
“Are you trying to get you and everyone else at work sick?” She scolds.
Ah, there's her normal attitude.
I huff, the condensation of my breath escaping a bit as I shake my head vigorously. “No, I'm just trying to get to work.”
She gives me a look that starts at my wrecked converse and ends at the ends of my hair that are dripping water. It’s not a happy look. “Dressed like this?”
We’re still standing on the sidewalk, another car passes by and splashes a muddy puddle that luckily lands a few meters behind her, but she doesn’t seem phased at all.
“I was in a rush.” I shrug.
“I can tell, you look like a mess.”
I groan, half-tempted to walk away and step back into the rain, but I feel like I’m stuck in one place under her glare. “Can you be nice to me for one day, ever?”
“You Americans are so focused on that.” She rolls her eyes. “I'm just trying to go about my day and do my work, you should be focused on the same.”
‘Americans’ I think. I knew she had an accent but I couldn’t tell from where exactly— I guess until now we hadn’t spoken face to face like this, but if I had to take a wild guess I’d say it’s obviously somewhere in Europe, but I couldn’t pinpoint where. I’ve never traveled outside the states before, hell I barely left California. It didn’t matter though, I was losing track of the argument.
“Yeah well, it's hard to be when you're harassing me all the time.” My voice betrays me, wavering with uncertainty towards the end because I knew I wasn’t speaking the full truth.
“Are you always this much of an asshole when you're not at work?” Her voice snaps back at me before she starts walking back in the direction of my work, taking the umbrella out from above me after seeming to remember that she had stopped on my behalf and not hers.
I’m quick to follow her. My shoulders peek out from the umbrella, rain drenching my sweater once again as I slouch a little to fit underneath the polyester now that she lowered it to only suit her height and not mine.
“No! You just— you hate me.” I say and she stops in her tracks, nearly bumping into me before I step back a fair distance. She’s glaring right at me. “I mean, from the first moment we met, you haven’t liked me. I understand, like, you’re just coming in as a customer but still. The least you could be is like, ‘Hey Ryland, how are you Ryland, one large black coffee to go please.’ There’s no crime in being friendly with each other."
I’m standing far enough away from her that I feel large raindrops hitting the back of my neck and face as I force myself not to shiver. There was no reply, she’s just standing there looking at me as I try to calm myself down— I mean, I’m getting all worked up over nothing. This is nothing. I try to fill the silence again, this time in a calmer tone, but I can’t really think of anything else to say that’s important. The next words that come out of my mouth sound mundane compared to the rest of what we’ve said.
“I never even got your name.”
She tilts her head at me. “You haven’t asked. That’s your fault.”
“Would you have even told me? It seems to me like you would’ve said it wasn’t relevant and waited.” I raise my arms in defeat, looking around as if I could find the answers to all my life problems miraculously on some street sign or passing by us on the crosswalk. There’s nothing— it's just me and her.
“Why would you want to know?” She asks and I can almost physically feel the frustration bubbling inside me.
“That’s what— oh my god, that’s what people do!” I try not to raise my voice, instead I force my glasses back up my nose as they were sliding down. “You do it with Elise, so why not me?”
“I’ve known her for a longer time, you didn’t seem like the type to stay working at a place like that, especially when you have an ego” She answers.
“Okay, now you’re just making up excuses.” I huff.
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Do I need an excuse to not tell you my name?”
“Do you need an excuse to be so— mean to me?”
“It’s hilarious you think this is being mean. Truly.” Her voice betrays her stoic demeanor because for a few seconds she sounds mad. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re expecting from this conversation when all you do is accuse me of treating you a certain way. We’re strangers, let’s just keep it that way.”
“Maybe I don’t want that.” I replied, not realizing how serious I sounded. I pull back, reiterating it. “Maybe I don’t like going through my life treating every interaction with people as a transaction, is that so hard to imagine?”
Her gaze doesn’t falter but I’m quick to look away. I found myself… embarrassed. I didn’t want to care this much about her opinion of me or how a stranger treated me but— seeing the way Elise talked to her bothered me. It bothered me knowing that she didn’t think I was worth talking to, and maybe a part of me wanted to earn that. It didn’t matter anyway, it was a stupid thought.
“I’m sorry for— whatever this was.” I’m walking past her, desperate to get away.
It’s quiet beyond the steady fall of rain surrounding me once again, but I still manage to hear it.
“Stratt.” Her voice was quiet at first, then she cleared it and tried again. “You can call me Stratt. It’s what Elise calls me.”
I stop, turning around to see that she followed me and now has her arm outstretched, offering me to duck under her umbrella once again. She has an awkward, pained expression on her face as her lips turned inward and formed a straight line. Stratt isn’t looking in my direction, and it’s weird to think that was the name she gave me.
Probably a last name of sorts, or some strange nickname I’ll never know the story behind, but either way—
“You’re going to be late. Again.” Her voice, stern as ever, snaps me out of my thoughts as she walks ahead and expects me to follow after. Of course I do.
We didn’t speak for the last few minutes. It was a mixture of uncomfortable silence with no desire to talk and argue more. This was the longest we had ever been around each other when I wasn’t at work, and it was offputting.
There was no room for friendship, mostly because she didn’t seem like the type to enjoy anyone's company but her own, but at least I wasn’t ignored on purpose anymore. One step at a time, maybe.
As we rounded the corner I had nearly forgotten the whole reason why I was out in the rain in the first place. It would be fine, I told myself, this is my first time being late like this and it won’t ever happen again. There’s no way they’d fire me just over this.
I step out of the umbrella and into the rain, walking ahead a bit as I open the door for her, although she looks unimpressed, she closes her umbrella and follows quickly. It’s only when we walk in that I see the sea of people either in line to order or waiting for their drinks, and my heart sinks further.
There’s three of my coworkers— Ben, Chris, and my boss— all circling around each other in a daze as they try to fight against the rush that had come in.
And I spent an extra ten minutes outside arguing with Stratt in the rain.
Oh, I am so screwed.
I push past the crowd, mumbling apologies before I make it behind the counter and my bosses eyes snap towards me. She doesn’t even look that mad, there’s more relief in the way her shoulders sink just slightly before she’s rushing towards me.
“Thank God you’re here, it’s been crazy all morning.” She says, gesturing to the crowd of inpatient people all gathered in front of us. I don’t see Stratt anywhere in that crowd.
“I’m so, so sorry Stacy, I really am—”
“Now is not the time for me to give you a reprimand or whatever, you need to change and hop on drinks.”
“I– I didn’t bring any other clothes.” I stuttered before she could say anything else, panicked to not get in trouble. My face is flushed red, and she barely casts a glance towards the small puddles of rain that were trailing behind me.
“Well, I did because I knew your ass would be getting the floors wet.” She shoves me a handful of clothes. “They’re my sons so it might not fit, but I don’t care. Go get changed and be fast!”
Stacy pushes me towards the bathrooms and I don’t dare look back. The speed in which I got changed could probably set a world record, if not for the fact that the shirt fit a little tighter than I would’ve liked, and the pants were a big too baggy, but luckily I had a belt on earlier, otherwise I would be fearing for my life for the duration of my shift.
I’m back out there in record time and clocking in, Ben throwing me nasty glares while Chris gives me a pained wave. I throw myself into catching up on drinks and restocking the empty cups when I can, but there’s still more people wandering in and seeking shelter from the rain. It wasn’t until an hour had passed that I had the opportunity to clear plates from peoples tables and subtly try to glance around for Stratt.
In the entire rush, nobody had ordered a large black coffee. I would’ve known, because I checked almost every ticket after she came in, but she didn’t seem to have ordered yet. Maybe she was doing the smart thing and waiting out the rush, but even as I make small talk with some customers as I clean off their tables, I don’t see her anywhere. I do three loops— the first one was unsuccessful anyway, because I ran out of room on my tray to carry any more plates. The second one was as well, since I thought she might’ve gone to the bathroom in the time that I was looking.
I waited another ten minutes before going out to wipe the tables that Chris had already cleaned.
I didn’t see Stratt anywhere, and I tried very hard to not feel disappointed that she was already gone.