Last Shot

The Entry - Last Shot

The smell of freshly-ground coffee beans assaults my senses as soon as I enter the coffee house. The rich nutty aroma is tantalizing on this rainy Sunday afternoon, stirring up warm memories from long ago, but that's not what has me smiling today.

As I approach the counter the barista turns to me and my grin widens.

She was beautiful, with long caramel hair that cascaded down her back and enchanting green eyes that glistened like a forest under a sunrise. I could lose myself staring into those eyes.

If only I had the courage to actually ask her out after a year.

It's almost funny, really, that someone like me—waves of fiery red hair, black biker jacket, dark aviators that enhanced the general bad-ass persona I was striving for—would be nervous around someone like her. But where I was rough around the edges, she was charming and sweet. Her affable nature drew people in like moths to a flame while I was known to harbor a short fuse.

She was the sun personified, shining in all its radiant glory. Nothing could ever dampen her spirit, not even the rain.

“It always seems to be raining when you come in,” she muses with a smile, drawing me from my daze, and I can't help but notice that her smile seems a little sad today.

Whatever it was that had her feeling down, I wanted nothing more than to take it and toss it out to the curb so that her sun could shine again.

Say something witty, I silently urge as I slip the sunglasses up over my head. Cheer her up!

But all I can seem to manage is an agreeable nod and my grin falters. I never was good at this.

“I'll just have a—”

“Black coffee with three sugars?”

“Y-yeah.” My smile returns as she processes my payment. “I'm surprised you remember my order.”

The barista chuckles, a sound like ringing church bells, as she opens the register. “Don't be. It was a lucky guess.” She holds out her hand but I shake my head.

“Keep the change,” I say, and she drops the coins into the tip jar before proceeding to make my order.

I rub a hand nervously over the back of my neck as I try and gather up whatever courage I could muster. It's now or never. “What, um—” She raises an eyebrow and I instantly feel like a stammering schoolgirl with a crush. Jesus, was I ever this nervous before? “What're you—”

“Yes?”

There's an upward inflection in her voice as her eyes stare into my own, as if she's waiting for something, and my mind blanks.

Say something, you idiot!

“You, uh, you seem a little down today, is all.”

The corners of her lips droop into a small frown and a look I can't decipher clouds her eyes. “Oh,” she says, her tone low as she hands me my beverage. “I guess the weather just has me feeling a little down today.”

“Oh. I'm, uh, sorry to hear that.”

“Don't be.” The smile returns but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. “Enjoy your coffee.”