A Walk in the Park--Larry Stylinson

Trouble at Starbucks

Louis came out of his trance almost groggily to see the guy was smiling at him. Now he was totally immersed in suffocating embarrassment. How humiliating. How degrading. The guy had caught him staring, and seemed to be amused by it. But his face showed no trace of jest or mockery. Just amused acceptance. His smile was soft, with no malice. Perhaps the guy was just being nice, polite. It was possible, Louis reminded himself. Not everyone on the planet was out to ridicule him.

And damn it, now that the guy's face was turned toward him, there was the other dimple! As if one hadn't been enough on this scorching hot specimen. Louis couldn't remember ever being this attracted to someone. It jolted him.

As the cashier offered to hand him his change, the guy turned his attention back to her, pocketed the change, and, with a smile and a sexy, low pitched voice, he thanked her, then strolled out of the store, glancing back one more time at Louis before he exited the automatic glass door. His shirt was open about halfway, the buttons left open on purpose (?) or was it an oversight?

Oh my God! He's looking at me again!

Louis, now almost panting, sweating, began to load his groceries from the cart onto the belt, realizing he should have started doing it way before this. He shook his head at how obvious he had been. The cashier also looked out of sorts, but that was probably because he had been so busy looking at the beautiful stranger that he'd totally neglected his groceries, and she was wondering what the hold-up was. The heat of embarrassment crawled up his neck. She had seen him making a fool of himself.

When the groceries were loaded onto the belt and she began scanning them, she reached up to her face, dramatically pretending to wipe sweat off her brow.

"Whew! That one was a looker!" she said with emphasis, gazing out at the parking lot as if trying to get one last glimpse of him.

Louis smiled, but he found himself—against his will, also looking out at the parking lot, and getting lucky enough to see the guy driving off in a black Range Rover, his long hair being gently tousled by the breeze caused by his partially open window, making him look all the more alluring. Together, Louis and the cashier studied the guy as the vehicle passed by the front window. It lasted all of about three seconds, but it left them both dazed.

If Louis hadn't been so enthralled, he would have found it quite comical. The cashier was at least fifty; maybe older. But the young man had the kind of presence that every woman, young, middle-aged or old couldn't help but take notice of.

Every gay man too, thought Louis.

Louis and the cashier's eyes met again, and she half-laughed at her lapse in composure.

"Sorry about that," she said bashfully, "but that one really knocked my socks off!"

Louis let the laugh out this time, but he made sure he was giving the impression that he was laughing at her reaction, being careful not to give anything away about how he, himself, felt.

"It's all good," he said as casually as he could, considering his fragile state of mind.

"Is that an English accent I hear?" she asked.

Louis nodded. He got this all the time. Americans seemed to be fascinated by a British accent.

"Well, if that isn't a funny coincidence! The guy that just left had one too! What are the odds?"

Louis was bewildered. That was odd. He hardly ever ran across anyone with an English accent here.

Oh well. He did wish he'd been able to hear the guy talk to try to find out what part of England he was from. All he'd really heard was a low rumble. What did it matter though? He'd probably never see him again anyway.