University was always a good distraction from life. If you spent your days studying, going to lectures, and planning projects with people in your life, then you don’t have to think about crisis’s and arguments and stressful days.

However, now that she’d graduated, doesn’t have a job, and doesn’t have a boyfriend, she had infinite time on her hands to think about the things she was trying so incredibly hard to repress.

She was being stupid. Just because Oliver thought she was pretending to be someone she’s not, doesn’t mean he was right. Doesn’t mean he knows her better than she knows herself.

Yet, she and Oliver had spent a pivotal part of their lives together – that scary transition from teen hood to adulthood, the moment in which you’re discovering who you really want to be. Everything in her life had been tied to him, and all of a sudden that’s been taken away.

In fact, she’d never felt lonelier. Sure, she could call her parents or text her friends, and she had the comfort of her stories to keep her grounded, but there was something about living in an apartment, questioning your entire existence, and trying to figure out who you truly are that left her feeling stumped.

What she really needed was some good old, unfiltered advice.

But who? Everyone she knew lived miles away, and this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have over text, not when what she was considering would change her whole life.

…………..

Days later, Violet sat on the couch with her laptop balancing gently on her lap. She was staring at the blank word document, cursor blinking condescendingly as she suffered with a severe case of writers block.

She’d written a few good short stories in her university courses, and definitely had some she wouldn’t mind expanding on. In her mind, there were stories about monsters and witches and great romances. There where expeditions to find new planets and extraterrestrial creatures, and great tests of courage and wisdom.

However, none of them seemed to feel right. She wanted her first proper story to be something inspirational. Something beautiful and descriptive that could capture the hearts of her readers.

What she needed was inspiration.

And so, she packed up her laptop, grabbed her purse from the counter top, and rushed out of the apartment excitedly. Next stop: Elderflower Café.

It was only about a twenty-minute walk from her apartment, but there was something about the mid-day city energy that made her skin buzz and face morph into a happy smile.

Skyscrapers stretched tall towards the clouds, the invisible people in the windows tapping at their laptops and watching over the floor-bound crowds. Business owners and employees rushed around her, muttering rushed excuses and apologies as they pushed their way to work.

Cars honked and buses swerved around corners. People waited impatiently at the zebra crossings, with their arms wrapped tightly around their chests and feet tapping in rhythm with the blast of songs from nearby stores. The air smelled warm and hazy, a strange mix of life and pollution, yet something that she held dear to her heart.

Elderflower café was in a quieter part of the area, in between newspaper shop run by Frank, the local grandpa, and the whimsical bookstore that was kept running and restocked by Ms. Beatrix.

All three stores complimented each other beautifully. The newspapers were historic looking, their words already fading as the blasting sun shone upon them. The stand outside was fairly basic, and the inside seemed to match Franks rustic aesthetic.

On the right of Elderflower, the bookstore was explosive with colour. The spine of the books had been deliberately cared for in order to maintain their vibrancy, and Ms. Beatrix had decorated the place with an adornment of flower-shaped fairy lights, rainbow strings and fake leaf vines. Fuzzy carpets welcomed the entrance way, and beanbags had been placed strategically around the store.

Elderberry, however, was a perfect mixture of rustic and whimsy. The door and windows were lined with a hardwood finish, with small, stained window designs decorating each opening. The roof was tall, lined with beams and twinkling fairy string. The tables where simple; a white finish with wooden chairs.

In the display where a variety of cakes and pastries, ranging from delicately crafted cupcakes with intricate patterns, to puffy sausage rolls that still looked warm and crispy. The coffee machine buzzed softly in the background, and the light chatter of people made the space feel cozy and familiar. The scent of flowers and coffee blended in the air, dancing around her senses and pulling her further into the store.

She walked to the front counter, ordering an Elderflower Lemonade and Lemon Blueberry Drizzle Cake, before sitting at a small table in the far back corner.

She was sat on a booth, leaning against fun-coloured pillows – the kind you would typically find in a grandmothers home.

Once again she opened her laptop, this time placing it on the steady surface of the table and looking around for inspiration: the tall ceilings, the hanging fairy lights, the vintage wooden adornments, and the glass-stained decorations in the windows.

She smiled, her finger tips tapping with a satisfying click along the keyboard as though the laptop was an extension of her hands. She didn’t have an idea for her story just yet, however it was always a good idea to think of characters and settings before you start writing main plots.

A few moments later, a server arrived with her lemonade and cake, placing it gently down on the table. She murmured a grateful thankyou without looking up, nodding gently as they placed the cup and plate in front her.

“Enjoy,” a young woman’s voice said, gruff and angelic.

“Thank you,” Violet smiled, finally looking up. She froze.

She was wearing baggy jeans that hung low on her sharp hips, a plain black t-shirt that was cropped just below her belly button, and the Elderflower Café apron tied tightly around her waist.

Violet’s eyes trailed up towards the woman’s face, her pale skin and green eyes standing out sharply under the frame of her electric blue hair, arranged messily into a wolf cut. She was tall, almost towering above her as her head tilted curiously, noticing Violet’s widened eyes and slightly open mouth.

She had piercings running up both her ears, dangling down and swinging as she moved her head, and a vertical piercing daggering through her left eyebrow.

She’s gorgeous.

Emilie. That’s what her copper name tag read. Elderflower Barista.

“Can I get you anything else?” Emilie asked, clearly confused by Violet’s staring.

“No,” Violet muttered, her voice far too quiet and eyes far too wide.

“Okay then,” Emilie smiled, turning away and walking back towards the counter.

Oh god.

Violet’s cheeks where flushed pink, her palms sweating as she wiped them harshly on her shirt. Her stomach was twisted in butterflies, and she felt a strange mix of excitement and nausea coiling in her gut.

It was a feeling like she’s never known before. Emilie was a girl: violet doesn’t like girls that way.

Yet, her stomach fluttered, the butterflies seeking some escape, whilst her cheeks darkened into a deep red colour. She felt so unbelievably happy, and for the first time in weeks, Oliver wasn’t the person on her mind.

The entire time Violet was at Elderflower Café, she couldn’t keep her eyes of Emilie. There was something mysterious about the way that she smirked whenever a coworker told a joke, the slight bob of her hair as she walked, and the addicting sound of her voice as it hit her ears like waves.

Of course, being the enthusiast that Violet is, she wrote down every little thing she was feeling: the warm lava of her cheeks reddening, the tingling of ants in her fingertips, the rollercoaster ride exploring her gut, and the quickened pulse of her heart.

It was exciting and thrilling. She felt like a teenager all over again, admiring a first crush from across the room or bathing in the feelings of your first kiss.

She consumed her food and drink very slowly, wanting to delay as much time as she possibly could. She needed to be surrounded by such beauties for as long as she possibly could, without seeming like a freak.

The Elderflower Lemonade tasted sugary, a refreshing blend of sweet citrus and delicate spring flowers. It was like a melodic blend of pear and lychee, the gentle composition melting pleasurably on her tongue.

It was paired perfectly with the Lemon Blueberry Drizzle Cake, the buttery and tender sponge texture scented with fresh lemon zest, punctuated by the jammy pockets of baked blueberries. The drizzle on top grave it a satisfying crunch as Violet bit into it, the icing dissolving into satisfying sugar particles in her mouth.

Together, the distinctly different refreshments created a perfectly balanced and harmonized flavour, hitting all the right notes of sweet, tart, floral and rich: like two perfect pieces that where meant to be together.

Violet looked up again, this time finding Emilie watching her intently as she chewed her final bite of Drizzle Cake. She blushed instantly, looking away and pretending to be interested in the small bird chirping outside the window.

Before she knew it, Emilie was walking towards her table, a bright smile adorning her perfect lips. Stop thinking that. That’s weird.

“Are you done with your food?” She asked kindly.

“Yeah,” Violet spoke, trying – and failing – to not start sweating again.

“Great,” Emilie smiled. “How was it?”

“Excellent. It’s almost as though the flavours are just meant to go together.”

“It is,” Violet grinned. Can she read my mind?

Emilie grabbed the plate and cup off the table. Her hand brushed Violet’s as she grabbed the items, and Violet pulled away as though she’d been electrocuted. Sparks radiated up her arm, stinging pleasantly – like the salt water that hits your face at the beach, or the cut of cool air in the winter.

“Sorry,” Emilie mumbled, her own features turning slightly pink.

Violet nodded, doubtful her words could say anything useful, whilst rubbing circles into the spot Emilie had touched.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Violet was going to say no, her lips beginning to shape out the syllables, but before she knew it, she was asking for another drink. “Can I have a flat white?”

“Absolutely.”

Of course, being the amazing barista that she is, Emilie had the coffee back in no time, once again smiling kindly as she walked towards Violet’s table.

“Here you go. Call if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

Violet brought the coffee up to her lips, mouth watering as the rich blend of concentrated espresso and honey milk hit her senses. Just as she could practically taste the coffee from the smell lingering in the air, she noticed a black scrawl on the side of the cup.

Enjoy <3 I hope you stop by again soon.
P.S. Love your writing ;)

At that, Violet glanced towards her laptop screen, her stomach dropping as she saw what she’d unconsciously written.

This barista is beautiful.
I’m feeling things I don’t think I’ve ever felt
before – not even with Oliver.
She has the most beautiful smile and
most addictive voice, and her piercings
are just so cool. For some reason I just
want to learn everything about her.

So there goes the nice outing. Violet grabbed her coffee, shoved her things back into her laptop case, and practically ran out the door, without even saying goodbye.