Waiting For Us [COMPLETED]

chapter 21 - why hallways are dangerous

Talia:

"Next!"

I scurry up to the front counter of the coffee shop. Usually behind the register it's this one aggravated female worker who always manages to make me squirm at her tone. This time, however, it's a college guy with "UVA" spelled out in orange on his grey sweatshirt. I smile as I normally do, but this time the barista actually smiles back.

"What can I get for you?" College guy asks, his finger readying to type my order into the system. I try not to notice his brown colored eyes trailing over my body. Even when he's not here, I find myself comparing the color to Grayson's eyes. I come to the conclusion that Grayson has eyes ten times prettier than the college guy's. I also may be bias.

"Hi, yes, can I get two medium iced coffees with a vanilla flavor shot and hazelnut syrup, please," I say as I play with my fingers. Ordering things makes me nervous.

College guy nods his head and rapidly taps the iPad in front of him. "Sure thing, smiley. Anything else?"

Smiley? Is he talking to me? I mean, I guess I was a little smiley, but maybe he also just likes giving out nicknames. Or he's a weirdo.

"No, that's it," I state, sliding my card into the chip reader to be processed. The $8.36 is beyond worth it. Especially when I get to see his face when I give it to him.

"I'll be right out with those," college guy says with a wink.

Is he...flirting with me? I mentally cringe. No. Nope. Smile and nod, Lia. Smile and nod.

Two minutes go by before he returns to the pick-up side of the counter, sliding over my two insanely delicious coffees. Yum. I barely catch his words while I think about just how amazing the first sip will be.

"I like your eyes by the way," he says, smiling his dazzling white teeth in my direction.

I hold onto the two coffee cups and tilt my head at his words. I don't know why I feel so confused. Maybe it's because Grayson said the same thing to me a week ago and it felt like a million fireworks were going off. This time, it just feels like another complement that someone would tell to make you smile. There's no spark.

"Oh, thank you," I say, knowing it would be rude if I walked off without a word.

He takes it as an invitation to keep the conversation going. "Are you in high school, college, or—"

"High school. I'm a senior." I rub my thumb on the side of one of the coffee cups, pushing aside the condensation. I hope he takes the hint from the clipped-ness of my words that I don't feel like talking. I'd rather being talking with someone else right now.