Curry Munching with the French Boy

15

AN: PICTURE OF CHRIS EVANS LOOKING SEXY ON A MOTORBIKE

After another one of Devin’s near death experience bike rides, we were parked outside a small little coffee shop in the hipster-ey artsy area of town. The afternoon was getting chilly, and in my volleyball kit I wasn’t protected from the wind. Devin saw this and shrugged off his sexy black leather jacket and wrapped it around me.

“Don’t expect to get this back.” I stated, walking into the coffee shop with Devin following behind. “It smells too nice.”

“Oh I already know you think I smell nice.” He grinned knowingly.

“Wait, don’t tell me. I said something similar when I was wasted, right?”

He laughed and nodded before calling over one of the waiters. He was a tall, skinny man with a bushy beard and shoulder length hair. He had square framed glasses on, and was wearing a Bombay Bicycle Club shirt with chinos and a black apron to cover. He really did look hipster with the many bracelets covering both his wrists.

“Sup Atticus.” Devin greeted clapping the guy on the shoulder in some weird man hug.

“Dude.” He replied dragging out the word, “Who’s the bird?”

“This is Maliha, my friend.” Devin said gesturing to me.

“Hello.” I said shaking Atticus’ calloused hand.

“Welcome to Ben’s STD Coffee House.” He replied stretching his arms out.

“STD?” I laughed.

“Yea, Ben’s Super Totally Dope Coffee House. Ben was high when he named the place, but anyway,” He nodded towards Devin “Let’s get you and the pretty lady a place to sit.”

He led us towards the back corner of the store, where there was a really low table. We had to sit on lumpy cushions that were placed on the floor. The shop had a Zen, Buddhist vibe about it and there were few other people around. Relaxing spa music was playing in the background and the soft murmur of other customers filled the air. It was warm and cosy inside and I found that I liked it there.

“This place is so…cool.” I murmured pulling Devin’s jacket tighter around me.

“I know right? Atticus works as an intern at Jackson’s, the publishing company, and he’s probably the only guy who didn’t know Homer Ford, so we like, instantly clicked.” Devin explained.

I smiled and stared at him before laughing lightly and turning away. “What?” He asked.

“It’s just really cute to see you being all chilled out and not acting rude.” I admitted picking up a weird little elephant ornament that was placed on the table. It looked similar to those that a lot of Hindu people had in their houses.

“Right, so tell me about you?” He asked leaning forward.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why do you write such morbid poems?”

“What?”

“They’re really good, insanely good in fact, but they’re honestly quite depressing. Like the one about the cold dead hands of death wrapping its spindly fingers around a black soul…something like that. What’s it all about?” Devin inquired.

“I don’t really want to discuss that right now.” I nervously replied. Luckily Atticus came around with a notepad and pen to take down our orders so the situation didn’t get awkward.

“I will have the Semen Coffee, and Maliha?” Devin asked turning to me.

“What do you recommend?” I replied.