365 Cups of Coffee

Ten: Orange Chocolate Latte

    I wake up early so I can get ready for the chat at noon and go get coffee at Higher Grounds beforehand.  When I get to the shop, I stare down the board, before surrendering.

    “Make me your favorite coffee,” I tell Ryan.

    “You look burnt,” he says, as he mixes stuff together.  I try to see what he’s making, but he blocks my view with his body.  “What did you do yesterday?”

    “My friend Daniel and I went jet-skiing up on Lake Winnipesaukee,” I say, unable to contain my smile.

    “Sounds like a worthy cause.  Did you like it?”

    “I love it up north,” I say.  “I love the mountains, the lake, the way it feels so much more like being lost than anything else I’ve ever felt.”  The words sound stupid now that they’re out, and I blush.

    “Oh, but that isn’t even north,” he smiles, and I shake my head.

    “No, but we did actually go up north afterwards,” I say, and he nods.

    “Good.  It’s gorgeous.  If you get the chance, you should hike a mountain up there.  Even if that’s not really your thing, you can never truly appreciate New Hampshire until you see it from above.  It’s gorgeous.”  He turns around and hands me a coffee, in a mug instead of a to-go cup.  He’s used the froth on the top to draw a sort of crude leaf on the top.  I guess that it’s either a latte or a cappuccino. 

    When I smell it, I pick up an essence of orange and chocolate.  I blow on the top and tentatively try it.  And oh my god, I was right to trust Ryan with my order.  It’s an orange chocolate latte, but the chocolate is so rich, almost like hot chocolate, and yet not creamy or thick enough.  There is no empty space in the coffee; it fills me up from head to toe, like nothing I have ever had to drink before in my life. 

    “Like it?” Ryan asks, and I can’t even speak, just nod.

    “The best,” I say.  “The absolute best coffee I’ve ever had.  Even better than frozen coffees.”

    Ryan grins.  “It’s my favorite.”

    I take the coffee to the seat I guess I usually sit at now and sink into the couch.  Ryan comes over, just like he did last time, and I grin, inviting.

    “So how did you get the job here?” I ask.

    “Because I have no life,” he says, then chuckles.  “No, not really.  Because I’ve been coming here since my freshman year of college, nearly twice a week, and I became a regular.  So when I applied, they pretty much knew exactly who I was without even an interview.  It was perfect.”

    “So do you make all this coffee at home now?” I ask, and he laughs.

    “I wish,” he says, shaking his head.  “I’m a poor college kid.  I don’t have any money.  When I get home though, I know how to make coffee.”

    “Where do you live?” I ask.  I never thought to ask that; I forgot that New Hampshire probably isn’t his permanent home.  I guess I never imagined he would belong anywhere else but in here.  That’s the thing about Ryan.  I obviously don’t know him outside of Higher Grounds, so that’s the only place I can imagine him.

    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he grins, and I shake my head.

    “Try me,” I say.

    “Washington.  Up near Seattle.”

    “What brought you here?” I ask.

    “Full scholarship.  Plus I like it here.  The northeast is nice, especially New Hampshire.  You guys have everything near here.  City, mountain, lake, ocean . . .”