So I was having my regular overdose of coffee at the shop and I’m reading this book I got from Sophie. She wouldn’t shut up about it so I just had to take it. Then this guy walks in just as I’m about to drink my coffee & I almost spill the whole thing on myself. Why so fine?!
Dark skin, checked shirt, clean haircut, decent height. Comely, I’d say.
He walks over to the counter, & he’s chatting with the waitress who clearly can’t stop blushing because our new guy here is trying to place an order and I’m just here thinking like, what is so funny? Finally she releases him & apparently he likes his coffee without milk.
Ew.
He takes a seat in a position that is just good enough for me to stare at him comfortably, & as good as this is, it is also torture.
I thought my ‘eye-contact’ game was strong, until now. I couldn’t even read anymore. This dude got me painting pictures of him, in my head, all over my wall & I have the weirdest taste in art. Is it the way he tilts his head? The way his Harris Tweed accentuates his moderate features or the way he stirs his cup just before every sip?
Ugh.
I nudge myself back to reality, that’s enough eye candy. This book is actually shit. Damn you Sophie. I steal one final look at Prince Florian just before I take off and I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want to tell him to use milk for that caffè.
It’s a brand new day and I’m feeling giddy. I put on extra perfume and sprayed a little sheen on my hair. Maybe he’ll come around today again? A girl can only hope.
Halfway through my 2nd cup and there’s no sign of him yet. Oh well then, today is not the day we sort this out.
Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.
Its Friday. It’s Friday and I can’t believe I am still reading this book! Just as I’m about to gather my stuff to leave, he walks in. Reflexively, I retake my seat, my book swings back open, whilst trying to endure the burning sensation I’m feeling under my skirt from the hot coffee. Spilled it this time. Klutz. I need to achieve something with this young man before I leave here, whatever it is, this pain has to be rewarded.
Oh look, he’s walking over to my table.
HE’S WALKING OVER TO MY TABLE.
He goes, ‘hey, what are you reading?” warmly.
“Oh THIS book? You don’t want to know what it’s about trust-”
“You’re right. Have you been staring at me, honey?” He says smugly.
“I’m sorry?”
“No don’t feel shy, I get that a lot honey.” He says that reassuringly, letting me know he doesn’t have a problem with the supposed ‘staring’ thing. Still smug.
“Wow. You are saying words I don’t understand” I say, laughing now, because he totally misread whatever he thought was happening here.
“If you want to take me out, it’s fine. I’m not paying though honey”
I’m cringing now. “Okay. Glad we could establish that, but-”
“Uhm I don’t hear you asking for my number yet, honey.”
Oh my.
“Alright I’m gonna stop you right there, honey? I wasn’t precisely staring. As weird as this sounds, I’m really just bothered about your coffee.”
He tries to conceal his surprise but his reaction is quite palpable.
Packing my stuff now and standing up, I say to him, “try to mix things up a little bit. We both know you don’t enjoy it that way. And what, decaf? Why take coffee if it’s gonna be decaf? Also, you think you can like say a full sentence without that ‘honey’ word?”
He unconsciously steps back now. Clearly not what he was expecting to hear.
“But I see why you would think I was staring though. Oh and while you’re at it, get some mint for that breath, I mean. That is good advice, don’t sleep on it.”
I give him a friendly nod and head for the door. Well that’s something he’s going to think about for days . . . in another coffee shop. Oh dear, the poor waitress.
Disclaimer: I have no reservations whatsoever for black coffee, but for the purpose of this article let’s assume haha.
An unexpected twist, but you were attracted to his demeanor initially, not his coffee preferences.
True. Lol. Like you said, unexpected twist.