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Being an owner of a small coffee shop in the bustling city of Bangkok has its perks and downsides.
On one hand, Orm answers to no one. She can come in as early or as late as she wants and there’ll be no supervisor ranting and asking why she can’t follow the schedule given to her.
She can also close shop anytime she wants or for whatever reason she comes up with that day with no repercussions (aside from lack of income).
The pastries her dear friend Kwang also bakes aren’t half-bad (they’re absolutely delectable but Orm won’t tell her best friend that) and any surplus from the day will go straight to Orm’s stomach or her refrigerator at home.
On the other hand, since it’s a small coffee shop, Orm can only manage to hire three other people to help around.
Which isn’t nearly enough personnel, especially during the morning rush hour or the weekend influx of teenagers socializing with their friends.
And god, the number of entitled customers who step foot in the shop every single day is enough to give Orm an aneurysm at her tender age of 26.
Still, taxes, entitlement, and rush hour aside, life as a coffee shop owner is good.
Orm is happy and content with the little business she has going on, and there’s nothing else in the world she needs.
That is, until her.
Monday starts with a morning rush that you only see in a city full of overworked employees.
There’s not a minute that goes by without the shop door’s bell ringing to signal the arrival of a new customer, often rushing to get their coffee fix before their workday starts.
And at this point in the business, Orm is used to this kind of chaos, where screaming a name like “Tan” will bring about at least three customers with different kinds of drinks to the claiming area.
“Caramel macchiato for Tan,” Orm clarifies with a sheepish smile at the three customers who are looking at her with hope, like Orm delivering their order will save them from impending doom.
Only one customer’s face lights up, and Orm quickly checks their receipt before offering the steaming cup of coffee and sending them away with a cheery, “Have a great rest of the day!”
That goes on for another hour or two, and by the tail end of it, Orm is exhausted and is just about ready to call it a day.
Until the door bell rings again and in walks the most beautiful woman Orm has ever seen in her entire life.
And that’s not even an exaggeration.
Orm has seen many women. Flirted with them. Kissed and even slept with some of them.
Point is, this isn’t the first time Orm has seen a beautiful woman.
But this is the first time she sees one that literally takes her breath away.
She’s tall, but maybe a few centimeters shorter than Orm, wearing a typical office attire of a white blouse underneath a pressed blazer and pencil skirt.
Her hair is tied up in a neat bun with only a couple of strands framing her face so perfectly Orm knows it’s done deliberately.
Her build is also lean, and Orm idly wonders if there’s muscle hiding underneath all those layers of fabric.
But it’s the face—her beautiful, possibly sculpted by God Himself face—that freezes Orm on the spot.
High cheekbones with a deep set eyes and thick eyebrows. Defined jaws that Orm imagines running her lips against. Thick lips that Orm wants to feel against her own.
And a singular mole under her left eye, sitting on the slope of her cheekbone.
All of it make this woman a god-like creature in Orm’s eyes.
Is she even real?
Then she moves with a quiet elegance that threatens to diminish Orm into a bumbling fool. She’s obviously in a rush but you won’t think that if you just look at the way she walks.
But Orm sees it in the way she’s tapping her fingers as she’s reading something on her phone—possibly the list of orders from her boss? Co-workers?
And then she speaks as she gets to the front of the line, and Orm practically combusts.
“Can I have flat white small, mocha latte medium, brown sugar—”
Her voice is as beautiful as the rest of her—soft with a certain lilt to it that Orm immediately wants to hear more of.
And even though Orm, as a matter of fact, does not combust, what happens instead is much, much worse.
You see, Orm is finishing preparing a piping hot black coffee for one of their regular customers when Miss Sculpted by The Gods walked in.
Luckily, she’s already done with the very uncomplicated order when she got distracted.
Unfortunately, when her new crush spoke, Orm is walking to the claiming area to deliver the order.
And trips on fucking nothing.
Which ultimately causes the coffee to spill—
—on Orm herself.
As it turns out, piping hot coffee burns when it touches your skin.
And that’s the only thing Orm can recognize at that moment even though she thinks she can hear some distant screaming and panic all around her.
And dear heavens, does it sting. It’s hot and sore, too, and Orm swears she can feel her skin peeling off the longer she stares at the now reddening skin of her arm and—
“Miss, how are you feeling?”
Orm looks up from her possibly scalded skin to see—oh my God she’s standing right in front of me.
Up close, Miss So Beautiful It Hurts looks more stunning.
Her lightly tanned skin is flawless, and her mole is so attractive and recognizable that Orm feels like she’ll be able to point it out even in a sea of other moles.
Is that even possible?
“Boss?”
“Boss, are you okay?”
“Miss, can you hear me?”
Orm nods even though she doesn’t even remember what the question is. Is there even a question?
“You might be in shock. That’s totally normal,” Miss Drop Dead Gorgeous says. “But I’m going to need you to walk with me so we can put your arm under cool running water, okay?”
Orm blinks dumbly. Miss Attractive Woman’s voice is so beautiful, melodious. Orm feels like she’s listening to orchestra.
Miss Goddess doesn’t wait for Orm’s answer—not like Orm will be able to string any coherent sentence right now—before she’s gently but firmly walking Orm to the sink.
Oh, she’s strong, too. I love it when a woman looks like she can put me in a chokehold.
Orm can only stare at the profile of Miss Insanely Attractive, and she doesn’t even notice there’s already water running over her scalded skin until she feels a stinging pain lancing through her arm.
She hisses in surprise.
Which only gets Miss Beautiful Voice to say, “It’s okay. We just have to do this for a couple of minutes before we apply aloe vera. Do you have a first aid kit here?”
Orm nods. They do, right? That’s SOP. They should have one.
Miss Breathtaking Beauty nods before shifting her gaze to Orm’s reddened arm, as if she’s inspecting it. “It looks like a minor degree burn, so we’ll just apply some aloe vera to help with the hydration of the skin. Then, we’ll—”
Even though Orm doesn’t want to tune the words out, her brain does, anyway, as it focuses on other things that Orm hasn’t noticed earlier.
One of which is Miss Stunning Woman’s fragrance which has notes of rose and dew drop and a hint of musk. It’s intoxicating, and Orm can’t breathe in without inhaling that strong sweet scent invading her lungs.
The second is Miss Gorgeous Looking has a set of dark brown eyes that Orm easily loses herself into. Orm wonders if they’re contact lenses, but she doesn’t see that telltale sign of dilated pupils so maybe they’re natural? And if they are, then damn. Orm is a sucker for women with beautiful brown eyes.
The third is that, when she speaks, Miss She’s Really Pretty, has an accent. It’s faint, but Orm hears it, especially as she’s telling Orm that she needs to go to the doctor to have her skin checked just in case.
The accent is familiar, too, and Orm knows she’s heard it before from family friends who visited them from Isan.
“You’re from Khon Kaen.”
Miss Dazzling Woman stops mid-sentence. She blinks rapidly at Orm, like she can’t quite understand the words that Orm just said.
In hindsight, her reaction is just fair, considering it’s the first sentence Orm has spoken since she accidentally spilled coffee on her arm.
“She speaks!” Orm hears Gina exclaim from somewhere behind her.
“I… I am, yes,” Miss So Beautiful It Hurts To Look Away confirms with a small, barely there smile. She looks a little amused and confused. “How’d you know?”
“Your accent,” Orm readily answers. She’s a little surprised her voice doesn’t come out shaky considering she’s talking to possibly the most beautiful, loveliest woman she’s ever met.
Another smile, this time, it’s bigger and makes Orm’s heart jump to her throat like it’s fighting for an Olympic medal. “Observant even under pain. That’s impressive.”
Orm shakes her head. What pain?
“I’m not in pain,” Orm argues, though her voice is faint.
An elegant eyebrow rises in question. “Really?”
Orm nods.
Then suddenly, there’s something pressing against Orm’s arm and stinging pain shoots through the whole limb. “Ow!”
“Yep, no pain at all.”
Orm glares at Miss Beautiful Tease, but she can’t even keep the expression for long when she sees her smiling—more widely now, more open.
Fuck. Orm might be in love.
Is that possible?
It is, isn’t it? Especially when it’s with a woman whose features rival that of a beauty queen. Or maybe she is a beauty queen herself. Or a goddess made mortal.
Whatever she may be—Orm knows she’s the most beautiful woman Orm has ever seen.
And Orm still doesn’t know her name.
Which needs to change.
Now.
“Do you want to get coffee?”
That is not a question about her name!
Miss Pretty Woman from Khon Kaen tilts her head to the side, still with that gorgeous smile, and oh, Orm feels like she’s about to fall from a cliff with no chances of survival.
“You don’t even know my name,” Miss So Goddamn Attractive says, though Orm can hear a slight teasing in her voice.
“Well, let’s change that. I’m Orm. What’s your name?”
From somewhere behind them, Orm hears a murmured, “Oh, my God.”
She pays it no mind.
Miss Fine Looking seems to be weighing Orm’s words, like she’s trying to first evaluate if it’s okay to give her name to this bumbling mess of a woman who tripped on air and spilled hot coffee on herself.
Orm internally cringes.
That wasn’t a very good first impression. And that, for sure, will only lower her chances of getting this woman’s name.
Now, Orm will wallow in—
“It’s Lingling.”
Orm’s thoughts stop spiraling.
She also stops breathing altogether.
Lingling.
What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.
Miss Knockout Beauty—Lingling—smiles even wider, and Orm belatedly realizes that she spoke her thoughts out loud.
God-fucking-dammit.
“Well, thank you,” Lingling says like she’s not even bothered by the compliment that just slipped out from Orm’s lips without her permission.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Lingling adds, still with that smile that continues to deliver relentless gut punches to Orm. “Even when you’re clumsy.”
“I got distracted by your voice.” The admission just comes out of nowhere, and now Orm wants to bury herself six feet underground.
Really?
Except, instead of finding it cringey, Lingling only grins like it’s an inside joke that only she and Orm share with each other. “In pain and still managing to flirt?”
Orm flushes to the tips of her ears. Her face is probably as red as her hurt arm right now. “I try.”
“And you succeeded.” Lingling smiles again, warmer this time, fond like she’s finding Orm’s lack of control over her thoughts adorable instead of annoying. “Let’s have that coffee once your burn is healed.”
It’s Orm’s turn to be confused. Is she being rejected in the nicest way possible? “Once it’s healed? Why can’t we have it today?”
“Because I’m running late to my corporate job, and I’d rather we do it on a weekend when I’m actually free, and you’re not distracted.”
Orm nods, though she can’t say she understood half of what Lingling said, considering Orm is very much distracted by the way Lingling’s lips move so gracefully.
Still, despite her inattention, Orm manages to say, “Fair. This weekend, then?”
Someone from behind them says, “Damn,” under their breath.
Orm pays it no mind.
She focuses all her attention on Lingling as she should. It’s not every day she’s graced with the presence of such a beautiful human being.
“Okay,” Lingling says, “it’s a date, then.”
Orm throws her hands up in the air in celebration—and effectively splashes everyone with water in the process.
Because apparently her arm—which she now remembers is hurt because of her own clumsiness—was still under running water.
How come she doesn’t even remember doing that?
Lingling is right. Orm is distracted.
But who can blame her?
Orm mumbles a quiet, “Oops, sorry,” and throws Gina and Suzie a sheepish smile when they turn to glare at her.
Meanwhile, Lingling is just wiping the beads of water on her impeccable face, still wearing the same warm smile like Orm’s innate awkwardness doesn’t even bother her.
“Is your arm better?” Lingling asks, pointedly looking at said arm.
Orm nods before she even lowers her arm to look at it. She inspects it and sees that it doesn’t seem to be damaged. It’s red and a little tender and there’s some stinging pain around it, but overall, it feels okay.
“The water helped,” Orm replies with a smile she hopes comes across as grateful and not goofy. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, pat it dry and put aloe vera after, okay? I’d do it myself, but I have to go because my boss will kill me.”
Lingling makes a move to leave but is quickly stopped—not by Orm but by Gina, who’s holding a takeout paper bag.
“Oh, Miss Lingling, here are your orders.”
Lingling looks down at the brown bag, probably wondering how the hell were her orders prepared in the midst of all the chaos.
Well, Orm is wondering that. But maybe Lingling is, too.
“Oh,” Lingling says after the initial surprise dies out. “Thank you. How much would—”
“On the house,” Orm interrupts. “Think of it as a thank you for jumping in and helping me.”
Lingling blinks, seemingly stunned by the gesture.
But for Orm, it’s nothing. It’s actually the least she can do considering her staff probably would’ve rushed Orm to the hospital because they wouldn’t know what to do—that is after they manage to stop flailing around and causing more chaos.
“Okay,” Lingling eventually acquiesces, though she’s still hesitant to receive the takeout bag. “But I’m only agreeing because I really, really have to go.”
Orm only gives her a smile and thumbs up.
Lingling returns the smile—still warm and kind, so damn beautiful—before she gives a quick wai to Gina and Suzie and rushes out the door, leaving only a hint of her perfume behind.
Orm is pretty sure Lingling left with Orm’s heart in her pocket, too.
“Well, that was interesting,” Suzie comments.
“How are you going on a date if you don’t even know her number?” Gina asks.
Orm feels like the Earth just fell right on her head because Gina is right.
Orm didn’t even get Lingling’s number.
Orm got Lingling’s name. She got to see her smile. She even agreed to go on a date with Orm.
But Orm forgot her freaking number?
Now how is Orm supposed to—
The door opens with a ding and in runs Lingling—sweaty and a little panicked now but still so gorgeous Orm thinks it’s a little unfair—who slaps her hand on the counter right in front of Suzie.
“This is my number, Orm. Call me. Bye,” Lingling says in a rush before she leaves as quickly as she came in.
On the counter is a beige colored card, which Orm hurriedly picks up before Suzie or Gina even has a chance to process and get it before Orm.
The first thing that hits Orm is that the card smells like Lingling’s perfume, probably because it’s stuck in her pocket all day long. Which is totally fine by Orm, by the way. Now she has more memories of Lingling she can go back to.
The second is that it looks professional and stylish, something that only corporate people actually have. Now it makes sense why Lingling is in a rush to leave. Her boss is probably a strict person.
And the third is that it carries Lingling’s name. And number.
Oh, my God.
Orm has to stop herself from squealing out loud when she realizes that now she’ll know Lingling’s full name and her number, too!
How is this not Orm’s luckiest day?
With excitement running in her veins, Orm looks down at the small card in her hand.
Lingling Kwong
Executive Assistant
Waraha Industries
08X-XXX-XXXX
Lingling Kwong.
Orm smiles as she runs her thumb across Lingling’s name on the card.
What a beautiful name for a beautiful face.
Orm can’t wait to see her again.