I run my fingers through my hair slowly as I block out the small talk and keyboard clicks that create the familiar atmosphere in my favorite café. I turn my cup around, gliding my fingers around the warm cardboard sleeve. "tylerr" is written sloppily in black ink. why would anyone spell Tyler with two r's unless they were trying to mess with me.
I look up to the counter and my eyes are immediately drawn to this barista's vibrant pink (and absolutely fluffy) hair. his mocha coffee brown eyes completely focused on making all of his orders. I realize how fast his rugged hands are moving and how flawlessly yet extremely speedy he makes each latté. he catches me staring and cracks a smile. I immediately look away cringing at my awkward behavior.
I stand up to throw away my half empty latté and the pink haired barista calls my name
"tylerr? is it?" he says with a grin. I look down and reply,
"y-yeah, but with one r, you spelled it wrong" he chuckles
"I will remember that next time" his voice quiets a little "brown haired gorgeous boy's name is Tyler, with one r." I blush and quickly walk out of the café, as my mind buzzes crazily.
