Golden Hour Café

The faint scent of roasted coffee beans wafts past your nostrils as you sweep the empty cafe. There’s no reason to—there hasn’t been any customers for the past couple hours—but it’s better than sitting around doing nothing, and your uncle will give you an earful if he catches you slacking off again. The summer sun casts long rays of golden light through the windows. It’s already hot enough even with the AC on blast, so you try to sweep around those areas.

Some song by The Beatles blasts through the speakers, echoing throughout the empty cafe. A favorite of your uncle’s, but not something you would ever listen to willingly. With the way Kyujin is bobbing her head as she wipes down the tables, it might become one of her favorites too. 

“Don’t tell me you actually like this song,” you mutter.

Your friend shrugs. “It’s kinda catchy.”

“It’s so… old, though.”

“Maybe I’m just an old soul.”

“Old soul?” you chuckle. “But you look like a—Ow.” She slaps your arm with a wet rag.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” Kyujin tries to glare, but it comes off more like an angry kitten rather than anything remotely threatening.

“Whatever.” You plop into one of the booths with a long sigh, dropping the broom at your feet. “So much for an opening day.”

Kyujin sits across from you, leaning her head on the table. “It wasn’t so bad. Five customers is pretty good for the first day.”

“Four,” you point out. “One of them was only here to use the bathroom.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but sinks into the table with a dejected sigh instead. “Just trying to be optimistic,” she mutters, voice muffled.

Your uncle waltzes in from the back, whistling along to the song. “Hey kiddos, how are we…” His voice falters as he sees the two of you sitting down, disheartened and exhausted. “C’mon, it’s just opening day. We’ll get more customers eventually,” he tries to cheer you up, but the uncertainty in his voice speaks louder than his words.

“I guess…” you utter.

“Yeah…” Kyujin adds.

You feel bad, but not for lack of trying. Your uncle spent months getting this cafe up and running, even quitting his old desk job so he could focus all his efforts on his real dream. It’s commendable, to say the least. You watched him put all his blood, sweat, and tears into this place—you just wish other people saw that too.

“Um, sir?” Kyujin asks, tentatively raising her hand.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’, Kyujin,” your uncle grins. “What’s up?”

“Do we… still get paid?” Your head shoots up at the thought of your first paycheck.

He sighs. “Yes, of course. Just not until the end of the week.”

You and Kyujin sink back into the leather cushions with a groan. You spent the entire day here, barely making a handful of drinks, and you have to do that four more times until you get paid? Working is a scam.

“Why don’t I go buy us some dinner while you two close up shop for today, huh?” your uncle offers. “What are we feeling? Pizza? Burgers? Chinese?”

Kyujin looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to choose. You stifle a smile as her wide eyes peer into yours. You almost forget to answer, too distracted by the way her eyes sparkle like the sun. “Uh, I’m fine with anything. You?” you ask her. Her lips curl into that giddy smile that never fails to make your heart flutter.

“Pizza, please!” she exclaims.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few with some pizzas.” The door chime rings as your uncle makes his exit, leaving you two to close up shop. You run through the mental checklist in your mind, but considering you’ve done nothing but clean all day, most of the work is already done.

“Y’know, when the cafe gets busier, we’ll probably miss quiet days like these,” Kyujin comments as she stacks up the chairs.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I’d much rather make drinks than pointlessly push the broom around for hours.”

She chuckles, her cheeks puffing up like marshmallows. For a moment, you imagine what it must feel like, pinching them in between your fingers. “Hey, at least your hands aren’t all clammy from that wash rag. If anything, you got the easy job,” she says.

“Aww, you worried a little rag is gonna ruin your soft baby hands?” Kyujin suddenly attacks you with a flurry of slaps against your arm, but in all her fury, it just ends up tickling. “What are you doing? Stop!”

“Stop being mean!”

“I’m not being mean—”

The door chime jingles, and the two of you freeze. A woman with long black hair and dressed in a cool denim jacket stands in the doorway, eyeing the two of you oddly.

“Uh, are you guys open?” she asks, gaze bouncing back and forth between you two.

“U-um, yes we are!” You quickly take down one of the chairs just for her while Kyujin scurries behind the counter.

“What would you like to drink, ma’am?” Kyujin asks in that customer service tone the two of you practiced last night.

“Just an iced americano,” the woman answers coolly.

“Coming right up!”

You join Kyujin behind the counter, both to help and so you don’t just stand around awkwardly. She grabs a plastic cup and shovels ice into it, the cubes clattering loudly. “Americanos are just espresso and water, right?” she whispers, glancing up at you.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You remember how to pull a shot?”

“Duh, I’m not you,” she smirks, twisting the portafilter into the espresso machine. You almost slap her arm, but stop yourself, not wanting to mess her up. Kyujin presses a button on the machine, causing it to hum to life before dripping liquid gold into the tiny glass underneath. 

She leans in, inspecting it closely. “Crema looks decent,” she mutters.

“Okay Gordon Ramsay, it’s not rocket science,” you tease.

“That doesn’t even make sense, he’s a chef, not a barista, stupid. Now move!” she hisses, waving you away as if she needs ample space just to pour espresso over ice cubes. She finishes it off with a splash of cold water, stirs the dark brown concoction with a spoon, and caps it off.

“One iced americano, for Miss, uh…” Kyujin blanks out.

“Soyeon. Thanks, kid,” she grins, taking the drink and bringing the straw to her lips. The two of you can’t help but watch in anticipation as she tastes the drink that the two of y— er, Kyujin made. “Not bad.”

You and Kyujin jump into each other’s arms, squealing and bouncing around in joy. Perhaps you hold onto her for a little too long or a little tightly, but if her laughter is any indication of things, she doesn’t seem to mind. After a long, boring day, it feels good to end on a win.

“You two are cute. You dating or something?” Soyeon chuckles, taking a seat near the counter. Kyujin suddenly scrambles off of you, her face turning pink like a sunburn.

“N-no! We’re not! Just friends!” she exclaims, waving her hands wildly in embarrassment.

“Y-yeah, just friends…” you echo, trying to mask the pain in your voice.

“Right…” Soyeon looks around the cafe, admiring the old time-y decorations that your uncle set up. “Is this place new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”