We all have defining moments in our lives, when either something brilliant comes together, or your whole life falls apart. In my case, everything came together so perfectly, it was like God Himself had erased my future and wrote my dreams in the blank space.
It was the middle of October, on a cool Saturday morning and Chicago’s brisk winds had soon pushed me into the nearest Starbucks. As expected, the line was almost out the door, and I barely squeezed in. Smells of blueberry muffins and hot coffee overwhelmed me, and I decided the wait was worth it. Only two minutes had passed when I heard the bells on the door jingle, and another chilly body thrust itself through the door. This person must’ve been extra cold, as he practically started a human domino line as he rammed into me, knocking me into a nearby mug stand. Dazed, I whirled around, hitting the first offender. Obviously very sorry, he began to apologize profusely, and as he did so, took off his hood, sunglasses, and hat. Flaming red hair tumbled down. I began to recognize his voice, his face, and my early teenage years came flooding back to me. I knew this man. I knew him very, very well. Although his face was aged six years, he was still the same Travis Clark I remembered.
“Oh my God. Are you ok? I am so sorry. I didn’t see you standing there. Can I buy you coffee…” his voice trailed off, and I soon realized it was because I was just standing there like an idiot, staring into his eyes, blue as ever.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “It’s just, um, are you . . . I mean, you’re Travis Clark, right? It’s just, wow, um, it’s been a while.”
“Haha. Yea, I am, actually. But if I’m right, and I think I am, you’re gonna let me buy you coffee, right? We can sit for a bit.” He smiled big and those same childish butterflies came back. It wasn’t like I was some crazy fourteen year-old again, but the whole situation still freaked me out a bit. The chorus to “Check Yes Juliet” managed to find it’s way out of my brain’s catacombs and I hummed it quietly. Neither of us said anything as we made our way to the front of the line.
“Grande hot chocolate, please.” He ordered. “What do you want?” He said as he turned to me, smiling.
“Um . . .” I stuttered, unprepared. “I’ll have the tall mocha latte, please." Travis got out his wallet, a beat up leather one with WTK etched in the side, and paid. We walked over to the side counter, and stood there awkwardly, both of us clearly nervous. My nervousness was understandable, but his? I couldn't think of a reason for him to be. From what I remember, he was always confident, cool, even a bit cocky, but never nervous. The drinks came and just my luck, the only table available was by the bathrooms. "Charming." I thought. "My teenage crush runs into me (literally) and I have to sit with him in the shittiest location in Starbucks (also, literally.)
