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It was nearing ten o’clock on the Friday before Christmas and Steve was stuck working a triple shift at The Coffeehouse. The second he’d parked his car and made the long trek up the slushy city street only to find the sidewalk outside the double doors empty, he knew it was going to be a long day. And not just because he’d be there from six to midnight.
At the very least, he’d be able to count on Robin to keep him company.
It was notoriously one of the worst days of the year because no one wanted to work. Lucky for the rest of the staff, Steve was saving up to afford his own place and Robin, well, Robin would do just about anything for Steve and just about anything to get out of spending any more time with her family than she was obligated. The morning had dragged and his lunch break had been cut short by a rare and unplanned mid-day rush, but now that the sun had set and the last of the after-dinner crowd had trickled out, he was back to wallowing in his own thoughts and feelings.
Robin had pulled out the radio a few hours ago and tuned in to the local station that boasted the fact that they played Christmas music on a loop, with no commercials, until after the holiday, but it was hardly doing anything to brighten the mood. Only two hours until they could close…
“Give me that,” Steve said, taking the towel from Robin’s shoulder. She snapped out of her own, private trance long enough to look offended. “I can’t stand here anymore. I’m gonna start wiping things down.”
“Don’t—”
“Why?”
“The second you start cleaning, you’re gonna jinx us and a whole wave of…of late-night-coffee-feinds are gonna come barging through that door.”
“Jesus, all right.”
Robin let out a half-weary sigh, her shoulders deflating, then she kicked at the toe-board of the counter. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Remind me again why we signed up for this?”
Steve snapped the towel in his hand at the register across from him until the corner hit one of the keys hard enough for it to belt out a light little ping . He slung the towel over his shoulder and leaned against the counter opposite Robin. “Because we hate our families?”
She let out a low whistle, continuing the doodle she’d been etching onto one of the to-go cups. “Not wrong there, Harrington.”
Steve was about to wipe down the espresso machine, despite Robin’s protests, until she let out a little yelp from beside him.
He could feel the shift in her energy before he was able to fully register what was going on. She sucked in a lungful of air and spun to look at him, leaning against the counter so that her back was to the door, then threw both hands over her heart. The felt tip of her open marker caught the ends of her hair and tinted the closest strand black.
His eyes grew a little wide as he looked around for the source of her withering face. “What? What happened?”
“She’s here,” Robin said, eyes turning to hearts. “Look over my shoulder, there—across the street, look.” Her voice was far away, but Steve thought it was probably more a result of his ears ringing than any actual shift in her vocal cords. She tapped the marker she’d been holding in one hand against the cardboard to-go cup in the other and looked him in the eye a few seconds before nodding. “Get your game face on, lover-boy. It’s like a Christmas miracle; this is your chance. God and to think. I almost called in sick today…”
“You almost—what? You were going to leave me to work eighteen hours alone ?”
She brushed him off absently, “Pshh you wouldn’t have been alone. Tammy’s been begging me for weeks to trade with her so she can get some one-on-one time with you.” She spun around and gave him a coy look, “Little does she know, your heart’s taken and I happen to like the fact that continuing to say no means she continues to have a reason to come talk to me, even if it kind of sucks, you know, that she’s like totally in love with you. Anyway. My love life is not the point—yours is.”
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but then a particularly strong gust of wind blew one of the wreathes off the light post just outside the front windows, and his eyes were drawn up to look out at the street beyond. A second later, she slid into view. The sky was dark and the rain that had been pouring all day was quickly turning to sleet. Nancy pushed forward down the sidewalk at a brisk pace and it didn’t really look like she was paying attention to where she was going. Even if Steve didn’t know it, he might have guessed she knew the route by heart, each bump and dip and divot in the sidewalk as familiar as the back of her hand.
Behind him, Robin continued to ramble. He heard snatches of her monologue, something about how she knew this girl couldn’t go without her daily dose, but he couldn’t quite catch if she was talking about the coffee or something else, because his ears were going kind of fuzzy. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be seeing her today…had convinced himself it was for the best, in a way.
Because, you see, Nancy was a 5:45 AM kind of regular.
Most mornings she beat them to the door, and on the days where she didn’t, it was never long until the little bell overhead would ring and Steve would look up from over the espresso machine to find her eyes wrinkled up at the menu as if she might order anything but her usual. Steve always felt a little gross for calling her by name—in the privacy of his and Robin’s conversations, of course. He couldn’t help talking about her between shifts or in the lulls between rush hours, but a part of him always felt guilty for it, too. Not for the reasons someone might expect though. He wasn’t embarrassed that he’d learned her name after months of making her morning coffee; didn’t feel wrong for knowing her order by heart—that was his job. But what did make him a little irritated was when he could sense himself getting tricked into feeling like he knew her, when in reality, every pass he’d ever made at knowing Nancy beyond being his first customer of the day had…kind of gone to shit.
And if he ever thought he might be able to forget that he’d tried and failed, several times over, well, there was always Robin to offer a reminder.
“Do you think she’ll order the same thing?” Robin said from behind him. “I mean, it’s like late like it’s dark outside. Who, aside from, Artsy-Fartsy over there by the bathrooms, comes in for coffee when any regular person would be in bed ?”
“She always orders the same thing. Long black coffee, to-go cup. What makes you think she’d suddenly order something different?”
“I don’t know,” she said, defensive. She twirled the doodle cup in the air as she tried to come up with a good reason. “I mean, I guess I could see it. Who in their right mind would go out at ten o’clock in this weather if not for the express interest of caffeinating themselves…” As soon as the words leave her lips, Steve can see something like hop blossoming across her face. “Wait a minute…”
She lit up like a Christmas tree on the Fourth of July, which was to say, the only moment in her life Steve thought might have been more exciting than this moment, right now, would have been the time she stumbled into Blondie in a gas station bathroom outside Toledo.
“Rob,” he muttered, “Please don’t make this weird. I’m not—I’m not gonna make a big deal out of this, okay? She made it pretty clear last time when I wrote my number on her cup and she never called. Messaged received, you know?”
“Nuh-uh. I refuse to believe that she actually just like, chose not to call you because she doesn’t like you. Like, I’ve opened without you before, and I swear, she’s always looking around like you’re gonna pop out of the back. And like, seriously, it’s late and I highly doubt she’s here for the coffee. I mean still, like, there’s no way on earth she orders a latte—she’s definitely a black coffee kind of girl, but it’s totally plausible that she’s here to see you.”
Steve tilted his head in consideration as he continued to watch her cross the street. He shifted in places as her small frame passed the front windows. “You don’t know that.”
Her chin was tucked against her neck sot hat at the collar of her jacket came up to cover her cheeks and her hair was sticking out loosely from beneath a beanie, long and dark and draped over her shoulder. He watched as she brought her hands up from her pockets and breathed into them, a soft cloud of white forming amidst the night air for a split second.
Just as she turned the corner and reached for the door to The Coffeehouse, Robin snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Earth to Steve…”
The little bell jingled and a rush of cold wind entered behind her, bringing with it a drift of snow.
“Welcome to The Coffeehouse, Merry Christmas!” Robin called out, taking the towel from Steve’s hand and turning to start on the first round of cleaning. She nudged him in the side as she went. Then, just out of the newcomer’s earshot, muttered, “Knock her socks off, killer.”
Steve rolled his eyes and pushed a nervous hand through his hair.
“Hey,” Nancy said as she approached the counter.
“Hey yourself.” Steve shoved both his hands into the depths of his apron. “Cold out there, huh? Looks like a blizzard.”
“Oh, god, yeah. You’re telling me.” She cast a cursory glance over her shoulder then turned back to face him and gestured behind her, down the road. “I live a few blocks that way and walked here. Bad idea. Can’t think straight now.” She gave him a warm smile and tried to keep a straight face as a cold chill passed over her.
“Well, let’s get you warmed up. What’ll it be? Long black?”
Her face shifted then as a hint of a smile dared to take hold of her bottom lip. “Do…do you actually know my usual order? I’m impressed.”
Steve could feel Robin grinning behind him, but he did his best not to let it show. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well…in my defense, it’s not too complex.”
He instantly regretted his choice of words, and as if he needed physical proof he’d screwed up, Nancy drew her lips together, pulling them between her teeth, and gave him a sorry nod. Steve fought for something else to say, but no matter how he tried to phrase the thing he really wanted to say, the words screamed stalker. Clearing his throat, he pushed his bangs out of his eye, then met her gaze and prayed for the best.
“Plus, I make it every morning, you know? You’re part of my daily routine. Kind of threw off my whole day if I’m being honest.”
As it turned out, it must not have felt as stalker-y as he thought. Her mouth hung open, mid-speech, and the longer it stayed that way the wider the smile on her face grew. A blush swept over her cheeks and she tucked her head into her shoulder before letting her eyes drift up to meet his again. When they finally did, she narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips playfully.
“Well far be it from me to put a bad end to your day. Long black would be great. I could use a little cream though…”
Robin dropped the milk frothing pitcher from the end of the bar and steamed milk splashed all over the floor behind him.
She fell to the ground with a towel. “Shit—don’t mind me. Sorry!”
“Well—” Steve cleared his throat and decided to do something he’d only ever dreamed of doing—was probably only doing because it had been a long day. And possibly because she hadn’t shown up that morning, like he’d been hoping and planning and expecting, and he’d spent the entirety of his day assuming he wouldn’t see her at all. He folded his hand and leaned until his forearms were flush with the face of the counter, creeping into Nancy’s space just enough that he could catch a whiff of the perfume off her coat. “You don’t have to get the same thing,” he said. “I could, I don’t know, make you something special. Something that’s not on the menu?”
“Oh…”
“Only if you want…”
He felt his pulse quicken at the thought of being shut down verbally, and in front of Robin, no less.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Why not?”
He tapped the counter a few times with his middle finger then looked over his shoulder. “Are you here for caffeine or something to keep you warm?”
“A little of both?”
“All right, sit tight.”
Nancy waited at the counter as Steve made her drink. Outside, the wind howled and sleet threw itself at the glass windows, leaving harsh streaks of wintery mix behind.
“Uh—” Nancy cleared her throat. “Steve?”
He felt his heart stop, as if it hadn’t already, the second she walked through the doors… Because god, it wasn’t crazy to think she might know his name, but he’d never really considered it before. Slowly, without missing a beat, he turned and passed another nervous hand through his hair.
“Yeah?”
She was looking out the window, her lips pulled up at the corner in thought. Slowly, she dragged her gaze back to meet his. “Think I could get this one in a mug? I don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”
His eyes traveled over to the soft glow of the streetlamp outside and it was clear there was zero chance the weather would let up any time soon.
“Absolutely,” he said.
It didn’t take long for Steve to produce a warm mug of coffee, the top a frothy, decadent layer of heavy creamer. On the saucer, he placed a small piece of caramel wrapped in wax paper.
“One cafe breve, for in-house dining. Added a little touch of something extra; just say if you don’t like it.”
Nancy was at the end of the counter, her pose mirroring his from earlier as she leaned forward comfortably against the counter, letting herself bleed into his space.
“Do you ever get to take breaks around here?” she asked as she reached out to take the drink from him.
Steve could hardly believe the words he was hearing. “I—yeah, yeah. Robin?” He turned around so quickly his sneaker squeaked on the tile. “Rob?”
“On it,” the other girl said, giving her eavesdropping away completely. “Take your time, kids. In fact, have a pastry.”
Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t hesitate to take a chocolate-covered croissant out of the display and make himself a drip before finding one of the corner booths, quietly tucking himself and Nancy away from Robin’s prying ears.
“This must be a long day for you if you were here to notice I didn’t come in this morning.”
“Yeah, Robin calls it The Clopen.”
“The Clopen?”
“When we close and we open—Clopen? It’s kind of dumb, but I don’t know, makes sense too.”
Nancy laughed lightly, nodding her head in approval. “No, I think it makes perfect sense now that you say it. Not dumb.”
An uncomfortable silence grew between them, where Nancy seemed to want to say more and Steve was absolutely fighting with himself over where to take the conversation. A large part of him could hardly believe any of it was really happening at all. He’d spent so long dreaming about her that he’d never slowed down to consider what he might actually say if he were given the chance in real life.
“I, uh—I hope everything was okay this morning,” he said, giving her a smile he hoped came across as sincere as he meant it to be.
“Oh—yeah! Totally, yeah. I write for The Hawkins Post. A few years back a bunch of the head writes went missing, under some weird, bizarro circumstances. We had a lead come in through the mail, but nothing was identifiable. Had to go in early.”
“Like before we opened early? That’s really freaking early.”
“I know. Scary what happened though. Do you remember the new mall? That fire?”
How could he forget…he and Robin had been working at the Scoops ice cream shop that summer and both of them had hoped to be out of the service industry by now, and yet…here they sat. Rather than going into all the sordid details, he took a drink of his own coffee and nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Scary stuff. Weren’t there, like, Russians?”
Nancy scoffed then took a drink from her coffee, letting both her hands remain on the mug when she was done in order to soak up as much of the heat as humanly possible. “Yeah, well, that’s not been confirmed. Anyway, it’s been a long day…and you know, it’s hard to bring all this backup, but especially right before Christmas.”
“Yeah… I know what you mean. The holidays are great unless they’re not, ya know? I signed up for this shift just to avoid my parents. My uh…my parents host this Christmas party every year and it’s a real bore, but they always expect me to be there unless I have other plans, so…” He gestured around him at the room at large. “Other plans I have made.”
She let out a low whistle. “Must be bad.”
“Nah…just a lot of snobby rich people.”
“Oh, I don’t know. That does sound pretty miserable.”
“Well, yeah. Maybe a bit. What about you though? I mean, come on. Christmas Eve is tomorrow. No big plans? No family to see? The Hawkins Post runs that tight of a ship?”
“All right…okay. I see how it is, touché. Yeah, I uh…I guess I do, have both that is. Family and plans. Not big plans though, just…average plans? The Post shuts down for the holiday, thankfully.” Her eyes stayed trained on the froth in her mug as she tossed around the words, tasting them before committing. “I’m kind of avoiding my parents at the moment,” she said, wincing as the words left her mouth. “I know that makes me sound like an awful daughter, but it’s not really as bad as it sounds. I got this scholarship for a writer’s residency—”
Steve’s eyes widened, eyebrows shooting into his hairline.
“I know, I know,” Nancy said, stopping him before he could interject. “It’s not a bad thing. It just means I’ll be moving to Boston for a year to study, and I know they’re going to be disappointed when I tell them, not because of the scholarship, but because I’ll have to give up my spot at The Post and might not get it back.”
“Damn, sounds to me like you could probably get any number of positions after this residency though…”
Nancy made a face that looked like the was wincing. “You wouldn’t want to come home with me and tell my parents that, would you?” She laughed, but there was a tone to her plea that made Steve feel confident she was more serious than she’d like to let on. “They’re just pissed because it means I probably won’t graduate on schedule, and it’s more likely the next job I land will be in a different city. But it’s not like I wanted to spend the rest of my life here in Hawkins, you know? God—I’m sorry, you don’t care about any of this. I don’t know why I’m unloading on you.”
He tossed a hand into the air, wiping her concerns away. “No, please do not apologize. If anyone knows the headache of parental figures, it’s me,”
“They’re like, by the books. You know what I mean? I know you’re probably thinking I’m, like, underestimating them or something—and maybe I am, but…”
“No, no—actually, I totally get it. My parents don’t give a shit what I do, which is the opposite problem, but still. Trust me, I get it. I’d kill for them to, I dunno, give a shit.”
“I thought you just said they wanted you at their dumb Christmas party.”
“Well, yeah, they do. Yeah. But it’s more about the image of it all, you know? Looks weird when they have a kid who’s never around…some bullshit like that. But I don’t think either of my parents actually cares what I do with my life, and it kind of sucks most of the time.”
They both quieted and Steve took the lull in conversation to finish his coffee. He caught Robin’s eye from across the room and she made an urging motion with her hands.
“So…I know we don’t know each other, like at all—beyond names and coffee orders and, I guess the fact that we have complicated relationships with our parents, but I was kind of wondering if, I don’t know…” He put his hand to the back of his neck and rolled it until he heard a pop then forced himself to look Nancy in the eye. “I’m gonna cut the bullshit. I’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks, Nancy, and it’s totally cool if you’re not interested, or—god, if you have a boyfriend—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
Nancy reached across the table and tore off a piece of chocolate-covered croissant then popped it into her mouth.
“When does this place close?”
“I—wait, what?”
She leaned forward and used her tongue to wipe the smudge of chocolate off her bottom lip and Steve thought he might die on the spot. He thought he’d daydreamed all the mortifying ways this could possibly unfold if he were ever given the right opportunity, but…this was a new one. Never had he imagined the possibility that she might completely ignore him.
“Well,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts. “I hear there’s a really boring, snobby party going on somewhere around town. Lots of rich people…”
Steve’s eyes narrowed as he tried to comprehend where she was going with this…
“I don’t know, I clean up pretty well. Why don’t we show your parents what they’re missing?”
“I thought we could, like, go see Rain Man next Friday, but…yeah, that could work.”
She picked up her mug and finished its contents then undid the wrapper of her caramel and tore it in half, offering him a piece. “I like Tom Cruise,” she said with a smile. “Count me in for both dates.”
Across the coffee shop, behind the counter, there was a faint, distant whoop followed by the clattering of several metal objects falling to the floor.
“Shit, I’d better—”
“Yeah, do your thing.”
Steve pushed himself up from the booth but before he could make it across the room, Nancy had turned and reached out, grabbing his elbow.
“Steve—wait.” He turned to face her. “I just wanted you to know. Your number—I was going to call you, but the cup leaked and by the time I got into the office, all the ink had bled...”
He let out a muffled chuckle and nodded his head.
“Hey,” he said carefully. “Would you want some backup over the holiday? Breaking the ice to your parents?”
“Steve Harrington…are you proposing we conduct a real-life Strangers on a Train?”
“I have no idea what that is, but…possibly?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of something red and purple before a burst of green, the shade of The Coffeehouse aprons, came into view. Robin stuck her head over his shoulder, mop in hand.
“Strangers on a Train, Alfred Hitchcock, 1951—single-handedly one of the greatest thrillers of all time. Two complete strangers meet on a train and decide to enact each other's revenge. If that’s what’s going on here, I am completely one hundred percent on board, but might I also recommend dinner and a movie? For the two of you, not me. I mean, unless you need a chaperone, which I would never judge you for—but Steve here,” she placed a hand on his shoulder and looked Nancy in the eye, “total ladies' man, don’t get me wrong, but also a complete gentleman.”
“I’m sorry, who are…”
“Robin,” she said, leaning across Steve and reaching her hand out to Nancy. As she shook the other woman’s hand she looked up and stage-whispered to Steve, “See? Only had eyes for you, dingus.”
“All right, all right, revenge queen. Let's finish cleaning.” He gave Nancy an apologetic look as he pushed Robin back toward the counter. “I’m so sorry. I swear, she’s harmless.”
Nancy let out a comforting chuckle and watched them retreat adoringly. By the time Steve had pushed Robin into the back room, he looked over his shoulder one more time.
“Don’t go anywhere, Nance. I’ll be right back,” he said.
She held his gaze for a moment before smiling. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The entire time he scrubbed down the espresso machine, he found himself replaying their conversation until he got stuck on one specific piece…She’d called him Steve Harrington. No matter how hard he tried to come up with a good reason, he couldn’t work out how she could have known his last name.
Damn good journalist, he thought with a smirk.