Short Stories and Drabbles

Dream Guy

Allison loved her job. Specifically, she loved Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at roughly 10:30 a.m. give or take ten or fifteen minutes.

That was when the door of the university's tiny coffee shop opened and Dream Guy walked through the door.

Seriously, he was perfect. Tall, athletic, dark hair, blue eyes (her new favorite color), well dressed and he was nice. He had a smile that made her heart skip a beat and a deep voice that vibrated right through her and...

"I bet he never changes his underwear."

Allison froze in the process of pulling a chair down for one of the cafe's four round tables to turn and gape at her colleague and, up to this exact second, best friend, Brooke. "Excuse me?"

Brooke raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "We both know you were thinking about Mr. Dreamy just now." She yanked down the chair that Allison had been just about to get to, and headed behind the counter to start setting up the equipment needed to provide caffeine to the perpetually sleep deprived student population. "No one's perfect, so I was trying to think of what his faults might be." Her expression turned mock serious and her eyes widened. "Dirty underwear."

"He does not have dirty underwear," Allison said, with a scowl. "You've seen how he dresses." Jeans, layered shirts, three quarter sleeves that showed off his forearms (dear lord, how had she not realized how much she loved three quarter sleeves on a man before this?).

"Have you seen them?" Brooke asked. She grabbed the cords of the nearest blinds and pulled them up, causing Allison to wince as bright light flooded the dim room.

Brooke's words penetrated and Allison's face went hot. "Of course not," she spluttered.

She hadn't even talked to him yet. She certainly wanted to talk to him. She psyched herself up to talk to him three times a week. Brooke psyched her up to talk to him three times a week. Then he'd walk in through the door, and Allison's brain and body would literally shut down and she'd stand there like an idiot while Brooke took his order and gave him his coffee.

She didn't even know his name because Brooke refused to tell her. She claimed it was incentive for Allison to buck up and ask him herself. Allison had simply countered by nicknaming him Dream Guy so...there.

"So," Brooke grabbed the keys to the front doors, where they could already see a line of half-awake students lining up outside, "are you going to talk to him today or what?"

Allison gave a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know. He's probably got a girlfriend anyway."

"He doesn't," Brooke said in a sing-song voice. "I asked him."

Allison made a strangled sound. "You asked him?"

"Well, yeah," Brooke said, rolling her eyes. "How else was I supposed to find out if you had a chance?"

"Just because he's single doesn't mean I have a chance," Allison muttered. She tried valiantly to ignore the way her heart had leapt at the news. She did not want false hope. False hope led to broken hearts. "Maybe you should ask him out. You seem to have an easier time talking to him."

She regretted the words immediately but it was too late to take them back. Brooke was tall and statuesque with dark hair and hazel eyes. Allison always imagined her as an Amazonian warrior or a badass superhero.

Allison, in contrast, was petite with auburn hair that tended to panic and frizz at the mention of heat or humidity, and gray eyes that were interesting enough but usually masked by her glasses.