If I had a nickel for every time Heather got my coffee order wrong, I would probably only have like 50 cents, but still.
After yet another disappointment on Heather's part, I made my way to the back left corner where the beige leather couches sat. Heather insisted I stay until her shift ended, and in an alternate universe in which I had other plans I would've scoffed at the idea of staying in the Starbucks on Crown Street until 8 on a Friday night.
I was hoping my copy of Great Expectations would conceal my sleeping form from onlookers, since Heather scolded me on one too many occasions for embarrassing myself like that in public. She was only trying to watch my back, but at this point in my life I've decided that embarrassment is just a notion that doesn't exist if you don't care enough for it to exist. There were too many people in this world for me to care about each individual's comments on the audacity of the girl who fell asleep with one of Charles Dickens' classics balanced atop her slightly open drooling mouth and half closed eyes.
I wasn't at all surprised to hear a forced cough from above me and a slight nudge in my side, and the slight pain I felt from her freshly manicured nails made the option of completely ignoring Heather all the more tempting. I continued on in my feigned slumber, and I figured she started pretending to wipe the mahogany coffee table on which I propped both of my tan Oxfords on.
Proper coffee shop etiquette was something that I struggled with constantly.
"I'm sorry," I heard Heather's voice from beside me say, and before I could whip the book off my face and tell her she ought to be for disturbing my sleep, another recognizable voice beat me to it.
"It's alright, this is too amusing for me to interrupt," The voice answered, a slight hint of laughter in his tone. That was, in my head, the perfect moment in which I decided I should emphatically whip the book off my face.
Unfortunately, my miscalculations regarding the speed at which I flung the book and the direction in which the book was headed caused me to hit the lilac haired boy from yesterday square in his flannel covered chest, resounding in an echoing thud.
"Again, I'm sorry," Heather muttered sheepishly, widening her eyes at me before leaving to go back to not working. The lilac haired boy flipped the book around to read the title before his eyes lit up with recognition, shaking his head before offering it back to me.
"I brought money this time," He waved his cup in the air before taking a sip. "So there's a question that's been on my mind since our last encounter."
"So you decided to watch me catch up on my beauty sleep? How nimble of you."
"What brought you here last night?"
"I should be asking you the same," I retorted, leaning forward to mimic his actions and narrowing my eyes at him. "At least I came with cash."
"Ouch," He feigned hurt, placing both hands over his heart exaggeratedly, "That hurt. Probably not as much as when you fell from heaven, but it still hurt."
"Wow, it's only been three minutes and you're trying to hit on me. Is that how you seduce all your victims?"
"If they're naive enough to believe a hooligan with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing who's clearly up to no good, then maybe."
"Fair enough. I assume you're coming from the bar down the street?"
"You're assuming I came slightly intoxicated?"
"Unless this is your normal behavior. In that case, you're just completely unacceptable to society."
"I've always been a skeptic of society."
"Aren't all boys with lilac colored hair and an eyebrow piercing?"
"I can practically hear the condescension in your voice right now."
"So you're not coming from the bar?"
"I didn't say that." He leaned back in his chair before letting out a sigh, "Three idiots coerced me into it."
"Then I guess you're too much of a weakling to resist coercion."
"Depends on who I'm with," He replied without missing a beat, and I could just barely catch the hint of a smirk on his face. "For you, I'd be up for anything."
"Aren't you cute," I deadpanned, taking another long sip from my coffee. "Stop feeding me your lines. I don't even know your name and I'm already sick of them."
"I'm Michael. I would ask you for yours, but I bet it's beautiful."
"You owe me $3.10, Michael."
"Alright, alright! I'll get your number, Jesus woman, all of this begging is getting old." I took the phone he offered me in his outstretched hand across the oak table, chuckling as I handed it back to him with one more contact in his list. "I'm only going to call you because it's in my moral code to pay you back, okay, Penny?" He clarified as he read my name from the lit up screen. A smug smile slowly made its way across his face, an expression I was getting all too familiar with.
Shaking my head, I pushed myself off the plush couch in the back left corner of the Starbucks on Crown street, sighing at the antics of the boy with the lilac colored hair, not for the last time. "And here I thought you were actually flirting with me."
"No flirting. I'm just a man of my word."
Heather always told me my lack of experience with boys, accompanied by my gullibility, would lead to me being victim to whichever douche bag I would eventually stumble across who was looking for a quick hook up. I didn't know if this was the case or not, and I didn't know if it was my said lack of experience talking, but at this point I certainly didn't give a damn.
After yet another disappointment on Heather's part, I made my way to the back left corner where the beige leather couches sat. Heather insisted I stay until her shift ended, and in an alternate universe in which I had other plans I would've scoffed at the idea of staying in the Starbucks on Crown Street until 8 on a Friday night.
I was hoping my copy of Great Expectations would conceal my sleeping form from onlookers, since Heather scolded me on one too many occasions for embarrassing myself like that in public. She was only trying to watch my back, but at this point in my life I've decided that embarrassment is just a notion that doesn't exist if you don't care enough for it to exist. There were too many people in this world for me to care about each individual's comments on the audacity of the girl who fell asleep with one of Charles Dickens' classics balanced atop her slightly open drooling mouth and half closed eyes.
I wasn't at all surprised to hear a forced cough from above me and a slight nudge in my side, and the slight pain I felt from her freshly manicured nails made the option of completely ignoring Heather all the more tempting. I continued on in my feigned slumber, and I figured she started pretending to wipe the mahogany coffee table on which I propped both of my tan Oxfords on.
Proper coffee shop etiquette was something that I struggled with constantly.
"I'm sorry," I heard Heather's voice from beside me say, and before I could whip the book off my face and tell her she ought to be for disturbing my sleep, another recognizable voice beat me to it.
"It's alright, this is too amusing for me to interrupt," The voice answered, a slight hint of laughter in his tone. That was, in my head, the perfect moment in which I decided I should emphatically whip the book off my face.
Unfortunately, my miscalculations regarding the speed at which I flung the book and the direction in which the book was headed caused me to hit the lilac haired boy from yesterday square in his flannel covered chest, resounding in an echoing thud.
"Again, I'm sorry," Heather muttered sheepishly, widening her eyes at me before leaving to go back to not working. The lilac haired boy flipped the book around to read the title before his eyes lit up with recognition, shaking his head before offering it back to me.
"I brought money this time," He waved his cup in the air before taking a sip. "So there's a question that's been on my mind since our last encounter."
"So you decided to watch me catch up on my beauty sleep? How nimble of you."
"What brought you here last night?"
"I should be asking you the same," I retorted, leaning forward to mimic his actions and narrowing my eyes at him. "At least I came with cash."
"Ouch," He feigned hurt, placing both hands over his heart exaggeratedly, "That hurt. Probably not as much as when you fell from heaven, but it still hurt."
"Wow, it's only been three minutes and you're trying to hit on me. Is that how you seduce all your victims?"
"If they're naive enough to believe a hooligan with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing who's clearly up to no good, then maybe."
"Fair enough. I assume you're coming from the bar down the street?"
"You're assuming I came slightly intoxicated?"
"Unless this is your normal behavior. In that case, you're just completely unacceptable to society."
"I've always been a skeptic of society."
"Aren't all boys with lilac colored hair and an eyebrow piercing?"
"I can practically hear the condescension in your voice right now."
"So you're not coming from the bar?"
"I didn't say that." He leaned back in his chair before letting out a sigh, "Three idiots coerced me into it."
"Then I guess you're too much of a weakling to resist coercion."
"Depends on who I'm with," He replied without missing a beat, and I could just barely catch the hint of a smirk on his face. "For you, I'd be up for anything."
"Aren't you cute," I deadpanned, taking another long sip from my coffee. "Stop feeding me your lines. I don't even know your name and I'm already sick of them."
"I'm Michael. I would ask you for yours, but I bet it's beautiful."
"You owe me $3.10, Michael."
"Alright, alright! I'll get your number, Jesus woman, all of this begging is getting old." I took the phone he offered me in his outstretched hand across the oak table, chuckling as I handed it back to him with one more contact in his list. "I'm only going to call you because it's in my moral code to pay you back, okay, Penny?" He clarified as he read my name from the lit up screen. A smug smile slowly made its way across his face, an expression I was getting all too familiar with.
Shaking my head, I pushed myself off the plush couch in the back left corner of the Starbucks on Crown street, sighing at the antics of the boy with the lilac colored hair, not for the last time. "And here I thought you were actually flirting with me."
"No flirting. I'm just a man of my word."
Heather always told me my lack of experience with boys, accompanied by my gullibility, would lead to me being victim to whichever douche bag I would eventually stumble across who was looking for a quick hook up. I didn't know if this was the case or not, and I didn't know if it was my said lack of experience talking, but at this point I certainly didn't give a damn.
