Grayson Dolan x Reader Imagines

Barista

(Y/N)'s POV:

"One vanilla latte, for Cassy!" I call out, reading the name off the hot beverage. A young blonde walks up to the counter, and I pass the coffee to her with a warm smile.

She thanks me before returning to her friend, and the two of them exit the shop. As a barista, I honestly enjoy my job quite a bit. The experience has given me some amazing friends out of it, plus, we can get free coffee on a good day.

I fix my green apron before striding behind the cash register. "Next, please," I say, standing with my hands on my hips. A tall, handsome man steps forward to order, and my friendly smile turns wider than usual.

The man offers me a lovely smile, and my eyes latch onto his deep hazel ones through his fluffy brown hair. His locks brush over his forehead, gently flopping to the side. Our gazes linger for a moment too long, before I collect myself.

"Hi! Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?" I smile brightly, my dimples hollowing my cheeks.

"Hi. Hmm... What would you recommend?" My smile only grows wider.

"Well, personally I'd recommend one of our newest Frappuccinos," I point to the poster hanging behind me, peering over my shoulder, "S'mores, Mocha Cookie Crumble, and Caramel Ribbon Crunch." I turn back to the man, adding with the back of my hand beside my mouth, "The Caramel is superior."

"No, it's not," one of my co-workers—and my close friends—cuts me off. I chuckle, my lips peeling back to expose my pearly whites.

The man scans the poster for a second before meeting my eyes. "Alright, then. I'll have the Caramel Frap."

"Okay, that's one Caramel Ribbon Crunch, coming right up," I say, tapping in the order into the register. "Anything else I can get for you?"

He sends me a wolfish grin. "Yeah. Your number, maybe?"

My brow arches high, and I lean forward on my elbow. "Sir, are you hitting on me during work hours?" I draw my bottom lip between my teeth playfully.

"Maybe I am," he says, shrugging. I share a laugh with him and try to ignore the blush creeping up my neck. Averting my gaze to the cash register, I say, "Your order will be ready shortly. Will you be paying with cash or card today?"

"Cash," the brunet says. I wait for him to pick out the right amount from his wallet, bouncing on the ball of my foot. My orbs watch his arms flex as he shuffles through his wallet. Swallow the lump in my throat, I let my gaze wander over him and realize just how incredibly handsome he is.

His perfectly styled hair falls over his eyes, and his athletic build is prominent under the tight, black T-shirt. Wow... How is it possible I've never seen him here before?

"How come I haven't seen you here before?" he suddenly asks, taking out the cash before shoving his wallet back into his pocket. I blink. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

"Oh, uh... I'm new here. Also, this wasn't my usual shift, so maybe that's why," I explain, circling my finger on the hard counter.

He nods observantly, his pink tongue raking over his plump lips. He hands me the cash and our fingers brush against each other. My hands shake as I store the money in the register and hand him back his change. He proceeds to dip it into the tip jar.

"Your name, sir?" I question, grabbing one of the cups. He answers huskily, almost intimately. "Grayson." I scribble it down in my best handwriting, urging my hand not to quiver.

"O-Okay, thank you," I feel myself hesitate to say the words. "Next."

Immediately, I excuse myself the minute he steps aside, tapping my co-worker to take the cash register while I make the man—Grayson's—drink. I prepare his beverage like how I normally would, but find myself taking extra precautions on getting the measurements exactly right.

Why? I can't tell at the moment 'cause I'm too focused on getting it perfect.

The drink is ready in no time, and is probably the most precise Frappuccino ever made if I do say so myself. Finally, I make my way to the other counter. "Caramel Ribbon Crunch for Grayson!" The moment his name rolls off my tongue, he appears before me, ready to claim what's his.

"Right here," he says. I slide the drink over the countertop, and our fingers brush again. He lifts his drink up, his eyes never leaving mine. I point below with my eyes, a slight smirk playing on my lips.

He cocks a brow, following my gaze to find a small note I had slipped over along with his drink. He picks it up and grins. Enveloping it in his pocket, he winks at me. "I'll see you around, (Y/N)."

And with that, he heads out the door, satisfied with his order of a Frappuccino and my number on the side.