The List [Discontinued] #TheFloraAwards2017

Chapter 2

I wake up and stare at the ceiling for a while, thinking about what happened yesterday. Who knew getting sugar drunk would be that bad. I can't imagine getting actually drunk, but I'm going to do it anyway. When I get older, of course.

My headache and stomachache are gone, but I don't know about Avery, considering she is still sleeping. Wow, even when she is sleeping, she looks flawless. Finally, she wakes up, probably because she can feel me staring at her. I can't see why she isn't dating anyone. I mean, she's like the prettiest person I know.

"Brownie?" I say sitting up on the bed on the bed. I call her Brownie because of her brown eyes, and she likes to call me Cookie because the day we met I was eating cookies and had crumbs all over my little face. Those were the days. "Good Morning Cookie," she says drowsily, turning towards me also. "Want to go get something to eat from Starbucks today? I can bring my Driver's ED books so I can study to get my drivers license soon," I say, getting out of bed, and stretching. She sits up, smiling. Avery has always been a morning person, and I could go either way. Sometimes I'm a night owl and sometimes I'm a morning person. It depends on my mood.

"Ok then. Come on, let's get dressed. And maybe you can meet a cute guy in the process," she says, and winks at me. "I doubt that I will find someone that fast," I say, and roll my eyes. "Who knows?" she says, winking again. I smile at her, and then Avery gets out of bed, and we get dressed, without anymore winks.

When we go down the hall, we see my Aunt enjoying a cup of green tea, and listening to "Watercolors", a smooth jazz station, in our clutter free living room. Our whole house is pretty much clean. We greet my Aunt, and tell her where we are going. Once she approves, we venture out of the house. We hop in Avery's Nissan Sentra, and head off. The streets are super busy, which is very common in New York City, so instead of taking us like 5 minutes to get to Starbucks, it takes us around 20. New York, New York.

When we walk in, the smell of Cake Pops and Coffee greets us. Then once we walk in further, all we can smell is
Lemon Bread. This makes me, and probably Avery, exceedingly hungry, and we walk up to the counter, ready to order. She orders for the both of us because she knows what I like already, and I'm just standing there on my phone.

"Will that be all?" the barista says, and I hear a charming voice. I look up from my phone. Thank God I did that. The barista boy is absolutely... perfect. Dark brown cropped hair, somewhat tan skin, freckles across the bridge of his nose, the prettiest sky blue eyes (and I swear I can see clouds in them), and he wears the cutest glasses ever. Big and Nerdy, just how I like them. Not the guy, the glasses of course.

"H-h-hi..." I say, and warmth rushes to my cheeks. Damn it, I stuttered. "H-hi there..." he says, glancing at me and then looking down at the register instead of at me, blushing. He must be nervous too. Glad to know I'm not the only one. A tall skinny girl comes up behind him, and gives him our orders, and then pats him on the back. He just smiles at her. I feel jealousy for the first time in forever. I mean, he is my boyfriend, he just doesn't know it yet. He hands us our drinks, and I stare at the balance on the cash register. Avery pays, and while she puts her wallet away, I snatch our drinks from the counter, and speed walk over to a booth in the corner. I set my books and the drinks down, and run back over to Avery, pushing her into the booth in front of me.

"Ow. Watch it, will you?" she says, rubbing her arm. Completely ignoring her last statement, I say, "Did you see that barista?" She nods glancing at him, as he serves two other girls. For some reason, I feel a hint of jealousy, again. "OMG, I didn't notice, but he is so dreamy," replies Avery. I clear my throat, and glare at her in a playful way. "Sorry," she says looking down, and sipping her drink. I do the same and open my book. I try to read, but I am too distracted by the thought of him.