Coffee Break (One-Shot)

Coffee Break

This book is dedicated to Sky_is_falling_down since this is my entry for her amazing Summer Contest.

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Normally, when a cute guy offers you a coffee, you accept. You pretend to look as if it's a really, really hard decision to make, then flirtatiously give a perfectly practiced nod. After this, the two of you will enjoy a civilised pot of coffee in a sweet little café which, in the not-so-distant-future, will become the first stop on your honeymoon.

Some would call a future like that pathetically cliché. I on the other hand, would call it romantically rare. A future that seems perfect for me.

               If, however, a cute guy offers you a coffee and you happen to stare dumbly at him before getting in such a fluster you manage to pour your icy Berry Burst smoothie all over him, then your future tends to lean a little towards the road containing twenty feral cats that live with you in your old, black castle that always seems to attract nothing but lightning.

               I'm ashamed to admit my life is currently on par with the latter of the two.

               "Oh my gosh! I'm so, so terribly sorry! Wait, I think I've got a napkin in here somewhere . . ." I trail off awkwardly while I all but shove my head inside my handbag, looking for anything to soak up my dripping companion.

               "It's quite alright, Miss. It makes this the first time I'm happy to be wearing such a scrawny shirt around such a pretty girl," I pause my bag-excavating to listen to his voice. He's got an accent. Definitely an accent. It's one of those posh ones that next to no one speaks in these days. The modern way had always been my way in the past, but if he continues speaking, I think I'm going to have to take another look at those history books my Uncle's always trying to get me to read.

               My search for the great napkin is forced to pause again so I can give my mind a chance to re-predict my future. Maybe my cat-infested home won't be quite so infested after my knight in shining pest-control overalls named, Sir Accented Coffee, heroically saves me? Or maybe he'll simply park a gorgeous campervan in front of my spooky castle, ready for our romantic road trip after he, once again, heroically saves me by climbing through the window and whisking me away?

               "Miss?" I look up at the sound of Sir Accented Coffee talking to me.

               My cheeks burn with a boiling blush when I realise my mistake: I've paused for too long. No wonder his handsome face is scrunched up with concern as he analyses my face, I must've looked like a first class idiot.

               Thankfully, a tissue that had been lost in the depths of my bag comes to my rescue by conveniently falling into my hand. It's crumpled–goodness knows how long it's been in there–but at least it's clean and dry. "Here," I pass the tissue over to his open palm. "Sorry about that again. I swear I'm not always such a klutz . . . actually, I can't swear that. Clumsy is my natural style, if you get what I mean." I give him a sheepish smile to help myself not sound like such a dork. Gosh, what's wrong with me?

               To my relief, he laughs. Actually laughs! I'm not sure how authentic it is, but I'll take it. Him not walking off right now, definitely helps improve my chances of my latest fantasy turning into reality.

               "So you, uh, still want that coffee?" I ask after a long moment. The college campus I spend most of my day at—and I'm guessing he does too by the logo printed onto his shirt—is pretty big. Big enough that if he says no, my chances of running into him again really aren't that high. Still, if I were to bump into him again, my embarrassment-O-metre would skyrocket every time I saw him. I'm not ready for that kind of stress in my life.

               "Of course," an adorable smile spreads across his face. "No purpley-pink milk drink's going to stop me from what I can only imagine will be a great coffee break with a great drinking buddy."

               I laugh at his choice of words. I didn't snort, but I'm still crossing my fingers it was one of my better, more lady like laughs.

               "So, m'lady," he continues on, "knowing your name will help a lot in the way of not having to keep calling you 'Miss' all the time."

               "Oh, right. The name's Audrey."

               "Audrey," he tests my name on my tongue, "I like it. Mine's Adam."

               I almost wilt with relief. He liked my name! I make sure I plaster on my prettiest dazzle smile while he leads the way to a small cafeteria a couple of metres down the street.

He appears so calm, so natural, walking now. I wish I could say the same for myself, but my mind is way too hyper to relax. And maybe that's because I'm getting coffee with a cute stranger, or maybe, it's because my wild future-predictions have just told me exactly what I wanted to hear: twenty feral cats no longer seems a likely future for me.

But then again, this is only a coffee break.