17SUMMARY: You know you have one. The boy at Starbucks who shares secret smiles with you and recalls your drink when he sees you. Even if his store is slightly out of the way, you still go there every day in hopes of seeing him.
Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. She is not I. Alas, I don't own Twilight, Edward, Bella or the gang. I claim nothing,
This is just an idea I was toying with. As of now, it's a one-shot. I can't commit to writing a whole story. It's rather daunting.
– SB –
I'd only moved to the windy city less than six days ago, but already I could feel myself adapting to the rush of big city life. Though I'd never lived here, I felt at home. It felt much like being back in Phoenix, only less hot. Classes officially started today, and I was thankful that so far my time here had passed without incident.
I got along well with my roommate, an Alice Brandon from Mississippi. Our suitemates, the girls with who we had to share our bathroom with were also great. Their names were Rosalie Hale and Angela Weber.
We'd spent the last couple of days bonding together, adopting to our new college lives and reminiscing about our high school years. It appeared that all of my suitemates had left behind significant others. Wistfully, they mentioned what they loved best about their guy, and I just listened, relating that I'd made a clean break from my ex, who was a year younger than I and whom I'd left behind in the grand town that is Forks, Washington.
About two blocks from our building, there was a Starbucks. The four of us had gone there last night, saluting our new friendship and the year that awaited us.
Of course, when we got there, I was immediately smitten with the barista clad in his glorious green apron smattered with caramel, chocolate and who knows what else. His auburn hair, almost bronze, glowed with fluorescent splendor and he had a wickedly crooked grin.
The four of us had stood in line together, chatting excitedly about our classes and hadn't noticed when it was our turn to order our drinks. In a bored manner, the cash register punched numbers into the computer screen, repeating monotonously the drink to the barista.
When it was my turn, I glanced at the menu, not at all familiar with Starbucks and the drinks. Even if I had lived in Washington for the last three years, I was still a Starbucks virgin. I was a simple black coffee girl, but I wanted some interaction with the barista behind the counter.
"Um, I'll take a…" I trailed off momentarily, looking at the menu once more. "I'll have a Caramel Macchiato," I repeated the words of the first drink I'd read, no doubt massacring its name.
The register girl looked at me expectantly, still bored. After a few more moments, she added, "What size?"
My cheeks turned crimson, and I mentally scolded myself for not even being able to order a drink properly. I looked at the size names, but they were foreign to me. "A small?" I said questioningly, not even knowing if they carried 'small'.
"Right, one tall caramel mach," she called to the boy, who sprang into action, scratching my order onto the side of a cup. She relayed to me the total, though I could see it clearly in front of me and handed off the cash that would cover the expense. My heart broke that a small cup coffee out to a solid three sixty-nine.
Restlessly, the customers behind me pushed their way to the counter, anxious to order their drinks. The girls had already gotten their drinks, their eyes shining with mirth, and motioned that they would be waiting outside. As I waited, I watched the barista making drinks at a lightning quick speed, buzzing from one corner to another behind his enclosed workspace.
Finally, he called out my drink. I reached for it, and my fingers grazed lightly over his as I pulled the drink towards myself. He looked up and smiled at me lopsidedly, and my cheeks inflamed immediately. "Have a good night," he called before returning back to the rest of his orders.
The tone of his voice, however, had remained with me. I'm sure he must speak to a dozen different people every day, and must say the same thing to them all the time. But, somehow I deluded myself that the inflection in his voice as he'd said the words were meant for my ears only. That his crooked grin was mine only to witness.
I went outside, where the girls immediately ambushed me with questions regarding the barista. I dismissed their claims, but deep down, I hoped to see him again. Even if it meant parting with another three sixty-nine for another cup of coffee.
– SB –
So, today as I made my way to class, I decided to visit that particular Starbucks. My first class wouldn't start for another twenty minutes, giving me enough time to go order a drink and still be on time.
Never was I this impulsive. I'd purposefully left early for class so I could simply get a good seat. But instead, I'd thought again of the Starbucks boy. And though I knew nothing of him or his life, much less his name, I decided to go back.
I realized as I neared the store that he could be a regular night shift worker. So when I pushed open the door, I was relieved to see him swirling around behind the counter, pulling shots and calling out orders with precision that rivaled a machine. There were several other baristas as well, but the bored register girl from the night before was not there.
I joined the line of waiting customers, setting my book bag at my feet. In the wait, I'd drifted off into space, so I again hadn't noticed it was my turn to put in my order. I also wasn't expecting
the boy to take my order. From this close, I could tell that his eyes were a soft green, flecked with gold. His skin was alabaster white, rivaling my own lack of tan. Oh, and that grin. That beautiful, lopsided grin. It made my heart swell and my insides hailed his beauty.
"Can I get you a caramel macchiato? Tall?" I responded by nodding impishly, and he picked up a cup where he scrawled the order. I was surprised he could recall my drink when even I hadn't known what I'd ordered the night before. I gave him my money, and he returned my change of a dollar and some change. I dropped the amount into the tip jar, hoping he would notice the effort.
He smiled again, picking up my cup to make my drink. Another barista jumped onto the register to take the next order. I stood by the order pick up window, watching him in action again, admiring the grace with which he carried himself from the ice bin to the espresso machine to where all the syrups were lined against the wall. If that were me back there, I'd certainly trip and send a customer's drink flying into the air. I was content observing his agility.
"First day of class?" He asked, holding the caramel syrup bottle over my drink, letting the bottom fill with caramel.
"Yeah. First day of college."
He looked up and smiled, not in the lopsided way, but more sympathetic. "It's not so bad, you know. All those first day horror stories? They're all lies. Look at me, I survived. It's my second year and I'm just fine."
He lidded the cup of fragile caramel-y goodness and handed it over. "There you go; one caramel macchiato for the road." He looked at me once more and smiled warmly. "Good luck."
Needless to say, my first day of college was absolutely glorious as visions of the Starbucks boy filled my mind through the day.
– SB –
Back in our dorm room, the four of us all sat in the middle of my room, discussing the first day. Horrid teachers, hot TA's, interesting classes, and other such topics filled the conversation. When we reached a lull, I offered up my morning Starbucks experience.
Alice squealed in joy and Rosalie smiled knowingly. Angela was pleased. The girls all thought I might have a chance and they resolved that between the three of them they would gain the necessary knowledge about his status: single or taken?
Admittedly, I hadn't even learned his name yet. But he was absolutely gorgeous, which the other girls weren't afraid to admit despite that they were all hopelessly in love with their respective boyfriends.
Days passed, and my interactions went much the same with the boy. We made brief conversation while he was engaged in making my drink and elevating its status to perfection in a paper cup.
I had learned this much from him already: he was a Chicago native though he'd been to Forks once when he was younger for a funeral; he was pre-med because that's what his parents wanted for him, though he had other passions; those passions included music and more specifically, the piano; and, his name was Edward – a very old-fashioned name he thought suited himself very well, for he believed he was born a generation too late.
From Rosalie and Alice, I learned what the answers were to what they deemed the 'important' issues. Of which, they learned, he was single and totally up for grabs.
As our customer-barista relationship continued, I soon learned that those wicked grins were for my benefit. I'd begun to spend all of my time at that store, whether it was to study or catch up with new friends, and he never used the same smile with other customers, even the particularly overly enthusiastic girls who would jump him if it weren't for the barrier of the counter.
– SB –
Today, I arrived to my chemistry lab on time as usual, only to find a notice on the door: 'Class Cancelled'. I recalled the professor briefly mentioning it the day before but it had slipped my mind; something about a renowned chemist who would be giving presentations at the university today.
I walked away, smiling at a few classmates who had obviously forgotten as well and were en route to chemistry. From there, I made my way down the familiar path towards the Starbucks. I knew that Edward worked until noon on this day, for I never saw him when I left my lab at the usual time. I rushed to the store, hoping I could catch him before he left for the day.
As I quickened my pace, I took careful measures to avoid any disasters that would divert me from seeing him today. It was a lot to keep track of – walking quickly and dodging obstacles simultaneously. I was too focused on obstacles on the floor that I didn't register Edward's looming figure enclosing on the entrance as I slipped in.
I stepped past the threshold with success only to immediately bump into him. I staggered backwards and the cup of coffee in his hand dropped. I don't know who was more bewildered – me, who had fallen to the ground from the impact and was now wearing what smelled like chai or Edward who had actually allowed the aforementioned chai to spill over someone.
His face was sympathetic for about two seconds before an amused expression crossed his face. "Why Bella," he clucked, "What will we do with you?" He bent over to be level with me. I was supporting myself up with my elbows, my hair splayed behind me, and my blouse becoming seeped with sticky liquid as the seconds ticked.
My cheeks, of course, were flaming red. I couldn't control the traitors and they showcased my embarrassment for the world to see. My mouth, too, was rendered useless, for I could not bring myself anything. Not that whatever I said would make a difference. And I was making a spectacle of myself, still on the ground in front of the immediate entrance.
So, forgetting any sense of propriety, I bemoaned my situation by making an attractive guttural sound and began to hoist myself up. Of course, my string of bad luck couldn't end with the first incident and I slipped on some of the spilled chai.
Edward erupted into an infective laughter, roaring loudly about my current situation. Resigning myself, I joined him in the hilarity of my predicament, for only such things could happen to me. Only I would rush to the local Starbucks to catch a glimpse of the resident cutie barista before he slipped away for the day and manage to stumble into him as he left.
Regaining his composure, Edward helped me up and carried me away from the scene of the crime, allowing his annoyed coworkers to pick up my mess. He led me to the restroom and removed his work shirt and handed it to me while carefully nudging me through the door before I could protest.
Quickly, I removed the sopping mess of my blouse, throwing it in the trash – there was no hope left for it any more – and threw on Edward's sticky shirt. I stepped out of the restroom and found Edward helping to clean up the mess, despite that he was now off-shift.
As I approached him, he was finishing up, placing the 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign up over the now clean floor. I smiled in gratitude at him and he nodded, acknowledging my appreciation.
We left the store behind us – I wasn't even going to pretend that I'd gone to simply get a drink – and walked through the campus in silence for a while.
After mulling over my thoughts, I finally broke it. "I'm so embarrassed I don't even know where to begin."
"Well, you did provide me with plenty of amusement. I was in a shitty mood as I was leaving after a string of customer complaints in the morning. Next thing I know, you come bounding in and immediately dispel my pessimism."
"Glad I could be of service," I replied dryly. I was all too aware of the fact that I was wearing his shirt, and the smell was driving me crazy.
"Listed, I don't have to be to class till later in the afternoon. And I don't really feel like studying or heading to my room alone. Would you like to join me for lunch?"
My heart skipped a beat and I took a furtive glance in his direction without looking at him. "Only if you let me change out of this real quick. I appreciate the shirt and all, but I don't like being covered in goop." I grimaced as I looked down at the caramel and chocolate stains.
He chuckled gutturally and nodded. "Want to be let in on a little secret?" He looked at me thoughtfully before continuing, "Neither do I. That's why I always take a spare with me so I can quickly discard the old one."
"My building's right around the corner. I'll just need to grab another shirt real quick."
He followed me as I led the way to my room and waited patiently outside my door as I quickly changed my outfit. I was about to leave, my hand hovering over the door knob, when I turned around to apply a quick coat of lip gloss and just enough perfume to cover the smell of chai. I didn't want to prolong another moment with Edward.
"Ready," I called as I exited, and Edward stood from where he'd been sitting against the wall outside my room.
We walked outside along the campus, making casual conversation. After a while, Edward took my hand, looking at me for my approval, and when I didn't tug away, he took that as consent. As we approached the restaurant, I just knew that this was the start of something new.
And the thought invigorated me.
– SB –
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