Page 8 of A Barista's Guide to Love & Larceny
More like what she did to benefitthem, that was. Her parents had caught wind of her unusual gift when she was just a toddler—she’d managed to get the truth out of a friend who had lied about how much money they owed using nothing but baby talk, or so the family legend went—and had no qualms about using it to their advantage. She’d been their good luck charm at every casino, flea market, tourist trap, and festival they set up shop at, until she’d been old enough and clever enough to escape. She hadn’t spoken to them since she left, so they didn’t know she’d made it as far as Fox’s Leap. If they did, they’d probably be disappointed in her for buying into the system.
“Thanks to them, I never really got to figure out what I could be good at. Now I have no idea what I want to do in life.”
“You don’t have any kind of career in mind?” Kass asked. “A dream you’ve always had?”
“Of course,” Dani said. “Fox’s Leap.” At his look of puzzlement, she added, “I’ve wanted to come here since I was little.”
“Really? How come?”
“My family visited when I was seven,” she said, “for—ah, on vacation.” The university had been hosting an international divination convention that year, where oracles of all types gave presentations and took workshops. Dani’s parents thought it would be the perfect place to scam some unsuspecting attendees, only to discover that highly educated people with psychic abilities were not the most gullible targets. She’d managed to sneak off a few times to explore the campus. “We weren’t here for the school, exactly, but I totally fell in love. I knew I had to be a student here eventually. Just felt it in my bones.”
Fell in lovewas an understatement—she’d been swept off her feet by the whole thing: the lush green quadrangles where students swapped spell recipes under oak trees, the buildings that looked likethey’d traveled from different time periods, the feeling of straight-up magic in the air, a fuckingpromise. Seven-year-old Dani knew it at once as a place where people came to change their lives, and that she had to do the same. Eleven years later, she’d made it, ready and waiting for that change to arrive.
“I love that,” Kass said, grinning. “I can see you as a little kid—in my mind, you had the purple hair even then. But you don’t have any idea what you want to do with your degree?”
“I mean, no. Not really. Like I said before, I’m basically competent at most kinds of divination and exceptional at none. There’s no passion burning a hole in my pocket. Nothing that feels like it’s worth a dream.”
Now that she was at Fox’s Leap, all she could think about was making sure she didn’t lose it. Once her status at the school was more permanent, maybe she’d have space to explore her options beyond the only thing she wasactuallygood at—a thing she had no idea how to turn into a career, even if she wanted to.
“I don’t think you’re alone in that boat,” Kass said kindly. “And hey, we’re only first-years, right? We’re not at the end of the river yet.”
“No, guess we’re not,” Dani said. “Anyway, we should get back to work, right? This blueberry scone essay isn’t going to write itself, you know.”
“I know, I know. My apologies come to you from the Mariana Trench of my heart.”
“Gross. You can keep them.” But she grinned. “Just get to work and quit bothering me.”
He put his head down obediently and turned his attention to his books. Dani indulged in a few seconds of gazing at the whorl in his hair before she, too, shifted to matters much more academic, and dramatically less cute.
The switching of focus was one thing, but thekeepingof it was another beast entirely. They kept sneaking glances at each other at theexact same time, then sheepishly laughing and looking back down at their work in unison.
Dani never would have guessed that she could get anything done under these conditions, but she somehow managed to produce five hundred or so half-hearted words on her, ahem,encounterwith the scones, scarcely noticing the slippery passage of witching hour time. It wasn’t until the door-ghost wailed after ages of silence that Dani remembered she was at work.
“Customer,” Dani said. “Be right back.”
Kass nodded, not looking up. Dani made it to the register at the same time as the customer, a regular named Oliver who was also a first-year at the Leap. They’d been coming in a few times a week since she’d started working here, and the two were now on a first-name basis with each other. Dani always enjoyed their snippets of conversation.
“Hi,” she said, smiling, as she woke the register up from its nap. “Want your usual?”
“Actually, I was hoping for something a little stronger tonight,” Oliver said. “Whatever you have that’s guaranteed not to let me fall asleep.”
Their dissonant tone made Dani look up. From a cursory glance, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about them; they were wearing functional, slightly dirty overalls under a padded corduroy jacket, which she knew meant they’d just come from the university greenhouse, and their dark hair fell gracefully past their ears from underneath their typical beanie. But they also had dark circles under their eyes, and where there was normally a positive spark to their aura, there was now a palpable slump.
“Sure,” Dani said, trying not to show her worry. “Got a test tomorrow?”
They shook their head. “Well, yes, but that’s not why I want the coffee. It’s just that I really don’t want to be asleep right now, you know?”
“Absolutely,” Dani said, though she didn’t really. She’d do anything for a little more sleep. But relating to the customer was one of the core tenets of baristadom. Plus, she was seeing a lot of dark, nearly black indigo in her inner eye right now. Oliver was going through it, whateveritwas. “Hot or iced?”
“Hot, please.”
“One all-nighter, coming right up.” She made them a triple cortado with blonde espresso and a pump of homemade cinnamon bun syrup, trying to decide if she knew them well enough to ask if they were okay. As she slid the drink across the handoff plane, she settled for, “Heading back to the greenhouse?”
“Nah,” Oliver said. “I’m going to grab some lab space while it’s quiet.” They were an arcanobotany major, though Dani didn’t know exactly what they specialized in. She felt the usual zing of pleasure when they lifted the drink to their lips and released a happy sigh on the first sip. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” they said, dropping their change in the tip jar. “I’m sure I’ll be back soon. I hope you have a good night.”
“You too!”
Kass drifted up to the register as the door-ghost farewelled the customer. “Looks like it’s about time to get out of here, huh?”
