Finding Love in a Coffee Shop

Hazlenut

As fate would have it, I didn't see the handsome barista for the next week. Between working, setting up the house, giving Dustin driving practice, catching up on the summer reading for my English class, and everything in-between, I hadn't had any time to stop by. Which was really unfortunate.

So Tuesday morning, the first day of classes, I decided that on my three-hour break between my English and Sociology class, I'd stop by the coffee shop for a cup of Joe. English flew by. The only thing we'd done was taken a quiz on the summer reading, which was a piece of cake. English had always come easy for me, which, considering it was my major, was a good thing.

Once English was over, I hurried to my car, anticipation welling up inside me. For a moment I wished I'd had a friend I could've dragged with me, but it was only a brief thought. Having friends and a social life hadn't been a priority of mine since I'd turned seventeen. After my mom had died, everything but surviving and Dustin got put on the backburner. And anyway, earning good grades was much easier when going out often didn't hinder you.

I'll be the first to admit it was a little sad, but it was my life, and I didn't really mind it.

My nerves were crazy as I pulled into a parking spot in front of the coffee shop. Which was stupid, because there was no reason for me to be nervous. It'd been over a week since I'd last visited, and I highly doubted the cute guy would remember me. If he was even working today.

Reassuring myself, I slipped out of my car and walked steadily toward the shop. This time I noticed a paper with the hours of the shop was posted on the corkboard beside the entrance. As I read it, embarrassment soaked into my gut. The shop closed at eight o'clock every night. Which meant it'd been closed when I'd gone in the last time...

"Jesus," I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat up as I reconsidered entering the shop. I must've looked like an idiot... but then again, the worker hadn't kicked me out. He'd let me order a drink, too. Which meant he wasn't only handsome, but kind as well. There was no reason why I should've been afraid of going in. I needed to stop acting like such a little kid.

Nodding to myself, I pushed open the door with confidence, ignoring the violent jingle of the bells that announced my entrance. A few disinterested customers glanced over at me and I snapped my head away, attempting to keep myself calm, cool, and collected. Of course, that was all blown to hell when the dark-haired barista met my gaze. He smiled, and to my amazement, recognition flashed in his icy blue eyes. I stared at him for a moment, once again taken aback by his looks, because really? This type of man only existed in a teenager's romance novel. Or in real life— if you were a drop-dead gorgeous Hollywood icon that was dating another overly attractive famous person.

Which I was neither.

"Hello," the barista greeted me, his voice low and slightly amused, as I inched toward the counter. It was sleek, made out of black marble, and so clean someone could've probably eaten off it. "Isn't it a bit early for a mochaccino?"

And holy shit, he'd remembered what I'd ordered. From a week ago. "I'm surprised you remember," I said honestly, smiling hesitantly.

"I always remember the strange ones."

"Ouch."

The laugh that left his lips was made of sugar, puppies, and everything nice and I felt more at ease at once. Full-blown smiling now, I quickly removed the remaining space between the counter and myself, aiming to get as close as possible to Mr. Handsome Barista.

Mr. Handsome Barista that needed a name. My eyes traveled to his nametag. Will C.

Will. A handsome name for a handsome man.