Peyton Norelle has closed herself off from the world.
Ever since her sister's death two years ago, she has wrapped her heart with chains, protecting and guarding it, ensuring that nobody ever got past her walls. She's just been floating, after havin...
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THREE
T Ê T E - À - T Ê T E
✕
starbucks & mixed-up names
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I HATED QUEUES.
It was just a—usually long—period of useless waiting, when I could be doing much better things. And you couldn't even sit down. Could there be anything worse?
Actually, yes.
A queue in a coffee shop. Because when you needed caffeine, you just needed it. There were no questions asked. Especially in college, when the first thing on your to-do list was to stay awake. It was like going to the bathroom, really. A necessity.
So as I stood in the line of our campus' Starbucks, highly annoyed, I could just feel my mouth aching for the bitter taste of coffee, my throat longing for the burning hot feel of the liquid.
"Miss?"
I blinked, looking directly at a young barista, waiting patiently for my order. I flashed a small, sheepish smile at him just as a loud call for the next customer rang out from the other counter.
"A tall Americano," I said, but froze when I heard identical words from beside me.
Whipping my head to the side, I frowned the same time Colin smiled.
Why was it that I saw him so often?
"You know, most girls order one of those frappes or at least something with milk in it," he said, leaning against the counter, hands in his pockets, his head cocked slightly to the side, as if studying me.
"Uh, miss? Your name?" the barista—Sam—asked hesitantly, not wanting to intrude on a conversation.
"Peyton," I said swiftly.
Turning back to Colin, I raised an eyebrow. "That's a very stereotypical thing to say. Is there anything wrong for a girl to enjoy a long black?"
I moved to the other side of the counter and he followed suit, hands still stuffed deep into his pockets.
"No, nothing wrong. Just... different," he said, shrugging.
Sam had just slid our drinks over and I caught mine with ease, not even looking before bringing it up to my lips, shutting my eyes, relishing in the familiar bitterness that invaded my mouth.
"I'm taking that as a compliment," I said, allowing my gaze to meet his, lowering my hand, interlacing my fingers around the cup.
He looked amusedly at me, one hand still in his pocket, the other clutching his beverage. I scanned the place for a seat and soon spotted one by the window. I turned back to Colin, only to see him raising his cup slightly at me.
"Enjoy the drink, Colin," he called over his shoulder, a smile playing on his lips.
I furrowed my brows and frowned confusedly, watching his retreating figure. Why would he call me Colin? Was he mad? Wh—
Then, I caught sight of the name on the side.
I screwed my eyes shut, a crimson blush tainting my cheeks, though he was no longer around to see it.
