RockStarPeach

He’d been coming in for weeks, she’d noticed.  Sitting at the same table every time, one of her tables, in the corner.  He’d been dressed in beautiful suits, shoes and tie to match, even his socks looked like they cost more than she made in a week.  Much too nice for the sort of dive she worked in.

And every day he’d only order a cup of coffee, not the usual plate of roadkill burgers and grease covered fries or other sort of regular diner fare that people normally scarffed down in this sort of establishment.

And every day he would leave an incredibly generous tip.  Ten times what the coffee itself cost.  At first she was too shocked to form an opinion, thinking he was just a rich business man too impatient to wait for his change, but he did the same thing again the day after, and the day after that, sometimes taking an hour to drink his fill of caffeine as he read the newspaper.

And he’d always smile at her warmly, and call her ‘love’ even though her nametag said ‘Buffy’ in big white letters, and thank her politely in that more than sexy English accent of his as he accepted the hot cup from her.

Over the past few days he’d taken to grabbing the cup from her hands, not waiting for her to put it down on the table first, letting his fingers ever so softly glide over hers as the exchange was made, and over the past few days she’d taken to making sure her hair was properly in place and her face was adorned with the appropriate amount of make-up during the time that the stranger usually arrived.

So one day, after he’d ordered and unprecedented piece of pumpkin pie with his coffee and he’d asked her when her shift was over, she smiled back at him, placed a second fork on the table and sat down to join him.