I looked at him askance and tried hard to not grin at the level of seriousness this coffee talk had gotten. “It’ll be better. Like I said, every cup of coffee I’ve had in Addis so far has been next-level delicious. I had like, five macchiatos yesterday. It’s probably why I couldn’t sleep.”
He did turn around then, just a flash of teeth and happy man, which after only twenty minutes was already enough to weaken my defenses.
The crush was inevitable at this point.
“Yes, farenji always go a little overboard with the coffee at first. Don’t worry, I’ll remind you to switch to tea if you have too many.”
I flashed him my own smile this time. “Thanks. I need help when it comes to resisting the siren song of caffeine.”
He gave me a look that was equal parts side-eye and genuine empathy. “Our coffee can be hard to resist.”
I gulped and looked out the window again, because now I was feeling things just from the guy using the words hard to resist.
I pulled myself together as we walked into the café, and started taking in the place. I expected a small storefront like the others I’d been to, but this place was huge. It could seat at least fifty people, and it was buzzing. It looked more like a café you’d find in Italy than the States. There were murals all over the walls with maps of the different coffee-producing regions in the country. The colors of the store were the yellow, green, and red of the Ethiopian flag. The floors were gleaming white marble and there was a lot of dark wood, chrome, and glass. Most of the tables were filled with young men and women. And there were servers walking around delivering coffee, pastries, and what looked like multilayered fruit smoothies in tall, skinny glasses. The smell of fresh roasted coffee beans was mouthwatering.
When we got closer to the service counter, I finally got a good look at the logo. I grinned at the familiar green-and-white circle, but at the center, instead of the mermaid, was a small coffee cup surrounded by the precious Ethiopian coffee beans. I pointed at it to get Elias’s attention. “It’s slightly similar, but definitely not the same.”
It took him a second, but when he realized I was referring to the logo, that ever-present smile came out again. “Yes, no mermaid for us. Our magic is in the coffee.”
“This is true,” I agreed, charmed with him and the unapologetic pride he clearly felt.
“What would you like?” Elias asked as he gestured toward a hand-painted menu above the counter, and I realized he was offering to buy me breakfast.
I shook my head and slid my hand in my pocket for my wallet. “No, I can get it…”
His expression was serious, and he directed a short but very firm shake of his head at me. “No. Desta, I will pay for breakfast. Please.”
Where did that dip in my stomach come from? This wasn’t a fucking brunch date. I was working. My lack of self-preservation seemed to be reaching new levels on this trip. Still, I caved. “I’ll have the egg and cheese croissant.”
Holy shit, that smile and those dancing eyes were like kryptonite. I almost swooned from the way he was looking at me. He rubbed his palms together like I’d given him the best news he’d heard all week. “Eshi, Desta.”
“All right, you win, but I’m buying next time,” I said, feigning annoyance, and made a show of pouting and crossing my arms over my chest, eliciting a grin from Elias.
While he took care of our order, I looked around. There were a lot of what looked like students or young professionals, some dressed very fashionably. Not exactly what I would call American fashion, but a mash-up between European and hipster styles. Other than a group thatcould have been South Asian, everyone else was Ethiopian.
I turned back to Elias to ask him a question, but he was focused on his phone. I waited for him in silence, still exploring the place. I noticed that some patrons ordered in a mix of Amharic and English. I thought about the Spanglish I’d grown up speaking at home, and it occurred to me that when I was here as a baby, Amharic had been in the mix too.
We sat down to wait for our orders. When the server brought the food I saw that Elias’s drink came in a clear glass coffee cup, and I couldn’t tell what it was. The bottom two-thirds of the cup had a clear amber-colored liquid, but the top looked like very dark coffee. “What is that?”
Elias worked on spooning quite a bit of sugar in the mysterious drink before pushing it toward me. “It’s a Spris, half coffee and half tea. I order it so I can drink more and still be able to sleep. Habesha love their bunna and chai breaks, and I can end up drinking too much caffeine if I don’t watch it. As you already found out, Desta.”
Oh man, winking.
Sexy winks were not going to be good for me.
I cleared my throat in another weak attempt to keep it together. “Interesting. I’ll try that next time.”
Another wink. Yep. I was in trouble.
I tried to regroup and went with a topic that wouldn’t lead us down a path that risked more appearances of the dimple, or more winking with perfectly lashed brown eyes. “So how long have you been working for Aid USA? Do you like it?” I asked, holding back a whimper after taking a second sip of my incredibly delicious macchiato.
Elias swirled his spoon, trying to dissolve all the sugar he put in his very short cup of
