The Star The Sunflower Faced

chapter eight

friend date

going out as friends, but feeling like a couple

I awoke my eyes to a monstrosity in the window of my mirror, vividly staring back at me. I looked like a bird's nest−or it's waste that made people angry.

I shuffle through the book again and quietly squeal as a memory of exchanging numbers with him flashed in my eyes with pink filters and cringey yet dreamy conclusions boomed the walls of my head. Such a couple-like thing to do, huh?

There was a type of refreshing and giddy pleasure in making more effort in yourself for someone else. Like that extra flavoring you added to the food that you cooked for your loved one who was tired from a wholesome day of work.

My outfit could have been displayed on a mannequin from a clothing store you saw down town. (In which, it probably did.) A black-and-white striped tee that was two sizes too big for me, and my denim overalls were cuffed to my ankle, but puckered at my torso. I wasted my next fifteen minutes picking whether I should use lip gloss or lip balm. I probably didn't know the difference of both.

Basically, this was the cutest look I've ever had worn. Now that I said that statement, it made me look kind of piteous

But I don't care, it's Gray!

I texted him, asking if he was already there. And to my sudden surprise, he was. Unlike the scene in the book.

Hurriedly, I slipped my arm into one strap of my backpack with a textbook hugged to my chest.

I paused a little in between the doorway.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asked.

"None of your business." I quickly answer before pushing the door open to the sight of grandeur autumn as I walked out, slowly greeting me and unraveling the path that went downhill.

Walking past many cobblestone roads and a pedestrian crosswalk, I paused in front of the venue.The cafe was tucked between more shops aligned in crooked patterns. The facade was glazed white, with round bulbs dangling on strings, making a canopy of fairy-esque lighta in front of the black iron gate. I pushed the door open and twinkling bells mimicked the soft purrs of a running cassette tape and the scent of strong caffeine energized me through my nose. Bitter to taste, but sweet in pleasure. Nothing more inviting than a homely coffee shop hidden from peripheral view.

Inside, I heard more than a simple bell's twitter. The strings of friendly or loving conversations had sewn an awning that buzzed like honeybees. Shutting of books roared and creamy pours made a sweet sound akin to its taste. You'd be thinking I was crazy appreciating just a tiny bistro, but I'd be thinking you'd be out of your mind if you thought it was just a small cafe. It isn't just a drink bar. It was comfort in a coffee cup found in the hidden edges of the side streets.

I walked to the counter which had lines and arrays arranged with different colored pastries. From flaky, buttery baked dough to ones rushed with soft sugar. A menu inked with a hundred and fifty options were chalked on the blackboard above your head.

I jumped a little when the barista spoke. "Oh, Asther!" She smiled at me.

I nodded. How did she know my name? I often ignored baristas, not really having an intention in knowing their name or identity.