Chapter 11: Coffee
1702 Words
The first cup of coffee arrived at 8:17 a.m.
Eliana placed it on Scott’s desk without knocking.
Black coffee.
No sugar.
Exactly the way he liked it.
She turned to leave.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
Scott looked at the cup.
“You made this?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“The coffee fairy did.”
A smile tugged at his mouth.
“Very funny.”
“I try.”
He picked up the cup and took a sip.
Then looked at her.
“It’s different.”
Eliana frowned.
“Different how?”
“Better.”
She looked at the coffee machine.
“It’s the same coffee.”
“Then maybe you made it differently.”
“I didn’t.”
Scott took another sip.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll blame the machine.”
Eliana smiled.
“You can do that.”
She walked out.
Scott watched her disappear through the glass door.
He looked down at the coffee again.
It was nothing.
Just coffee.
Yet somehow, it was the first thing he’d looked forward to that morning.
By the third day, it had become a routine.
8:17.
Coffee on his desk.
Black.
No sugar.
No conversation unless Scott started one.
Eliana hadn’t planned it.
She simply noticed that Scott arrived around the same time every morning and that he always stopped at the coffee machine before entering his office.
So she started preparing it before he arrived.
It saved time.
That was what she told herself.
It was efficient.
Nothing more.
On Thursday, Scott walked onto the twelfth floor at 8:15.
He stopped when he saw Eliana already holding his coffee.
“You’re early.”
“So are you.”
He took the cup from her.
“Did you wait for me?”
“No.”
“You’re holding my coffee.”
“I was taking it to your office.”
“Before I got here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re predictable.”
Scott smiled.
“You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.”
He took a sip.
“Good.”
Eliana returned to her desk.
Scott stood there for another moment.
“You know what I like.”
“I know what you order.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I know what you like.”
Scott’s expression changed.
“You’re becoming confident.”
“I’m becoming familiar with the job.”
He nodded slowly.
Then walked into his office.
At 9:03, Eliana received an email.
From: Scott Eliot
Subject: Coffee
She stared at it.
She opened it.
Too strong.
She frowned.
She looked at the coffee machine.
Then at the empty cup on his desk.
She typed back.
You finished it.
The reply came immediately.
That doesn’t mean it was good.
She smiled.
I’ll make it weaker tomorrow.
Another message appeared.
Don’t.
Eliana laughed quietly.
Then what’s the problem?
His reply took longer this time.
There isn’t one.
She leaned back in her chair.
There was something strange about communicating with him this way.
Scott could be difficult in person.
Demanding.
Impatient.
Sometimes deliberately irritating.
But behind an email, he seemed almost playful.
She glanced through the glass wall.
He was looking at her.
She quickly returned to her screen.
By Friday, the coffee had become an unspoken agreement.
Neither of them discussed it.
Neither needed to.
At 8:17, Eliana would make it.
At 8:20, Scott would take the first sip.
Sometimes he’d complain.
Sometimes he wouldn’t.
But he always drank it.
That morning, however, something was different.
Eliana arrived to find Scott already sitting at his desk.
His usual coffee sat untouched beside his laptop.
She stopped.
“You made coffee?”
He looked up.
“Yes.”
She walked closer.
“You made your own?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you weren’t here.”
Eliana checked the clock.
8:21.
“I was three minutes late.”
“I noticed.”
She looked at him.
“You noticed I was three minutes late?”
Scott shrugged.
“You’re usually here before me.”
“Maybe I overslept.”
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
He studied her.
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Tired?”
“A little.”
“You should have stayed home.”
Eliana blinked.
“Are you concerned about me?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
She smiled.
“Of course.”
Scott ignored the teasing.
“You have too much work.”
“You’re the one giving it to me.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed.
Scott looked at her for a moment.
Then he pushed his untouched coffee toward her.
“Here.”
She stared at the cup.
“That’s yours.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You made it.”
“I changed my mind.”
“About coffee?”
“About making it myself.”
She picked up the cup.
“Fine.”
She took a small sip.
It was terrible.
She immediately coughed.
Scott laughed.
Actually laughed.
Eliana glared at him.
“You did that on purpose.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
He was still laughing.
“It’s not that bad.”
“You should be arrested.”
“For what?”
“Crimes against coffee.”
He leaned back in his chair, grinning.
“I’ll let the coffee judge decide.”
She shook her head.
Then, without thinking, she smiled.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Not uncomfortable.
Just quiet.
Eliana was the first to look away.
“I’ll make yours.”
Scott nodded.
“Please.”
The word surprised her.
Scott noticed her expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You looked surprised.”
“You said please.”
“I’m capable of manners.”
“Apparently.”
She walked out with the cup.
Scott watched her go.
He couldn’t explain why the morning felt better now.
It was ridiculous.
He’d had better coffee.
Better mornings.
Better company.
Yet he found himself waiting for this one woman’s footsteps outside his office.
At eleven, Asher arrived.
He walked straight into Scott’s office and dropped into the chair.
“You look happy.”
Scott didn’t look up.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
Asher glanced toward the empty coffee cup on the desk.
“Is that the famous coffee?”
Scott looked at him.
“What famous coffee?”
“The one you’ve been talking about.”
“I haven’t talked about it.”
“You complained about it for three days.”
Scott frowned.
“I did not.”
“You said it was too strong.”
“It was.”
“Then you said it was too weak.”
“I never said that.”
“You emailed your secretary about it.”
Scott looked away.
Asher smiled.
“Interesting.”
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to.”
Asher leaned forward.
“You’ve never cared this much about coffee.”
Scott picked up a file.
“I care about good coffee.”
“No.”
Asher shook his head.
“You care about who makes it.”
Scott’s eyes lifted.
“Get out.”
Asher laughed.
“That’s what I thought.”
At lunch, Eliana found herself thinking about the conversation.
Not Asher’s teasing.
Scott’s reaction.
He hadn’t denied it very convincingly.
She knew she shouldn’t read meaning into something as simple as coffee.
It was a routine.
Nothing more.
Still, routines had a way of becoming personal without asking permission.
She had learned his order.
He had learned her timing.
He knew when she was late.
She knew when he’d had a bad morning by the way he held his cup.
She knew he took his first sip before reading emails.
She knew he disliked overly sweet things.
She knew he sometimes forgot to eat when work became intense.
And she was beginning to realize that she was learning him.
That wasn’t part of the assignment.
She didn’t like that thought.
That evening, Scott stayed late.
Eliana was packing her bag when he stepped out of his office.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the clock.
“It’s seven.”
“Exactly.”
He smiled.
“Rule six.”
She smiled back.
“You remembered.”
“I remember things.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You don’t work tomorrow.”
She paused.
“I know.”
Scott nodded.
“Right.”
She reached the elevator.
The doors opened.
Before stepping inside, she looked back.
Scott was still standing there.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The doors closed.
Scott remained where he was.
The twelfth floor was quiet again.
He looked at the empty space outside his office.
Then at his desk.
The coffee cup from that morning was still there.
He picked it up.
A ridiculous thought crossed his mind.
He missed her.
She had only been gone for thirty seconds.
Scott immediately rejected the thought.
That was absurd.
He set the cup down.
Then smiled despite himself.
Maybe it wasn’t the coffee.
Maybe it had never been the coffee.
The next morning, Eliana arrived at 8:12.
Scott was already waiting.
She looked at him.
“You’re early again.”
He held out an empty cup.
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“Coffee.”
She laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
She took the cup.
“Black?”
“No sugar.”
“I know.”
She turned toward the coffee machine.
Behind her, Scott watched.
There was something comforting about the routine.
The quiet mornings.
The coffee.
The brief conversations.
The way the twelfth floor seemed less cold when she was there.
He didn’t know when it had happened.
He only knew that somewhere between meetings, arguments and cups of coffee, Eliana had become part of his mornings.
And for the first time, Scott Eliot didn’t mind having someone become part of his routine.
He almost looked forward to it.
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