Coffee Conversations

18- Recognition

When Amyas leaves I find myself faced with two weeks of back to back performances, having had to step in for my usual cover twice due to a sudden illness. As much as I love what I do, and the show I'm so fortunate to be a part of, I can't help but be grateful when those two weeks come to an end. It feels so flipping good to have a day off.

I lay in till 9am, star fishing in my bed until my need for coffee drags me out. I shower and dress in a relaxed mint coloured sweatshirt, shoving my beloved baseball cap onto my head before practically skipping into Starbucks with a content smile on my face. I'm unreasonably happy about the prospect of getting my hands on a cup of 'bean juice' as Ledger likes to call it.

I smile even wider when the thought of Ledger brings me nothing but a fond exasperation. It seems that my perseverance is finally beginning to pay off, and time is playing her fickle trick of making the most intense heartache feel like nothing but a bad dream.

But as I step to the front of the queue the butterflies in my stomach emerge all at once, and I groan internally when I discover the reason why. Dark blue eyes are staring in my direction, but to my surprise, they aren't nearly as hostile as usual.

"Hi Blue." I say tentatively, a small smile drawing my lips upwards.

His hand is gripped around a take-away cup, my usual order scribbled on the side in grey marker. I stare at it, unsure what to make of the sight.

He scrutinises me for a moment longer, his eyes roaming my body shamelessly before meeting my eyes once more.

"You're Greyson Hayes." He says finally and I freeze.

At first, I want to laugh. I've been Sam at Starbucks for so long that I almost argue that he's wrong. 

Then I realise how awkward this is. 

My fingers reach up to draw the brim of my navy baseball cap down out of habit, but his nimble fingers beat me to it, ripping it off my head.

I sigh, smoothing my hair down reluctantly as I watch him shove my hat onto his own head.

"Grey." I correct gently, wondering just how he's not only realised my real name, but figured out my whole name.

His head tilts, staring at me in the way that I'd imagine you'd look at a funky looking bird.

"You're on the West End." He states and I blink, surprised before nodding.

"How do you know that?" I ask, somewhat suspiciously.

All of a sudden he's the one shuffling awkwardly, glancing at his feet before rolling his eyes dramatically.

"I took Rex to see Les Mis last night." He says.

Oh.

"You were in the programme." He adds, drawing an awfully familiar looking booklet from beneath the counter. My headshot stares back at me, smiling at me in a mortifyingly taunting manner.

My palms begin to sweat slightly as I imagine him in the audience, the one guy in the world that seems to hate my guts more than anyone else. Suddenly I'm glad I didn't know. Last night had gone really well.

"Oh, that's nice of you. I hope you enjoyed it?" I ask pleasantly.

"We've called you Sam for two years." He says pointedly, ignoring my question.

I feel my cheeks heat, a nervous laugh bubbling in my chest. Shit.

"Yeah, I think Rex misheard me the first time. I didn't want to be rude..." I say awkwardly.

Blue looks at me in complete disbelief.

"So you didn't correct him? You just let it happen?" He asks incredulously and I purse my lips.