Not Here For Coffee • Lams

Superficial Love

DISCLAIMER : If you're homophobic, exit now, door's that way ⬅️

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆, 𝑰 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒕. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏' 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔.

My name is Alexander Hamilton.

I am a 19 year old King's college enthusiast, writing prodigy but most of all, I'm tired. Physically and no doubt mentally. I'm tired of people asking me for full length essays in return for money. I'm tired of the stares and round of Chinese Whispers I get during Mr Washington's lectures.

I'm tired of my failed loves who just made me even more vunerable every time I was around them. They'd lead me on, use me only for their own pleasure then kick me to the curb like some toy they'd got bored of playing with.

If you're wondering, some examples of these people are Ms Maria Lewis (the worst of them all), Mr Thomas Jefferson and Mr Aaron Burr. They all have somebody else now.

Maria and James Reynolds.

Thomas and James Madison.

Aaron and Theodosia Bartow.

Anyway, I'm sick to my stomach of 'love'. If it even exists, which is kind of hard do to imagine. If it does then it does not last.

Moving on. I needed a place to relax and just block out everyone else's squabble. My classes were done for the day and my room mate, James Madison isn't very friendly with me so I won't be going back there. Also just in case he's got Jefferson snogging him on my bunk again which I don't need to walk in on for the seventh time, and counting (probably).

Peggy Schuylar, the best person on the planet, has stuck by me since the beginning of highschool and has never left for other bigheaded brats, as she calls them but she's out doing something with her sisters so, understandable.

That leaves me wondering to the small coffee shop off site. It's a small corner shop, usually deserted apart from a few others having minimal conversation and food. I always come to this place, the name of the shop is 'Pâtisseries et Boissons', which by the way means Pasteries and Beverages. (Oui, je parle couramment le français.)

I walked in and heard the jingle of the doorbell echo through the virtually silent coffee shop, despite scattered low murmers around the room. I stayed at the door for a bit taking in the serenity.

The scones there are sometimes like rocks, and sure the coffee neither tea is something to leave you satisfied either but it's not like I ever am. However, the aesthetic is lovely and serene. I only need my laptop and a good book and this place is an easy paradise. To work or perhaps in this case laze, I need space and quiet. This place has exactly that.

I sit down at a brown booth seating and started up my laptop. I studied the unfinished essay files layed out on my desktop, deciding where to start when a waiter I had never seen before approached me. He cleared his throat a little which got me to look away from my screen and up at his expectant face. I figured he had asked something beforehand but I was too in depth at the moment he did.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" I asked him although I already knew the answer. The male nodded and responded with, "Oh, I just asked what your order would be sir?" he repeated. I wasn't in the mood for bitter coffee, tea that wasn't sweet or croissants that weren't light and chewy all for more money. Cheap is never a wrong way to go.

"Just ice water please." I replied in the end and the waiter nodded with a small smile and left.

I watched him go and sank into my green hoodie a little. He sure was a cute waiter. His freckles were adorable. A hint of the South in his warm tone. But I couldn't care less. Really, I couldn't. I'm not going down that route so easily this time, two months without a heartbreak and I'm not losing that streak. Besides, a guy like that probably has someone already.

Not even a minute later, the man came back with my water and placed it down on the counter for me. "Thanks." I said taking a sip of it before turning back to the essay displayed in front of me. "No prob-"

"Laurens?" a voice called from behind the counter and a grumpy looking man was glaring at my waiter. "Coming, Georgey." 'Laurens', I assumed, called back in a seemingly teasing voice. "That's boss to you." the man said with an irritated eye roll, he sounded extremely British and presented himself as a lavish gentleman.

>< (<this means time skips)

About an hour later, I had finished one set homework and read a chapter of my mystery novel. I was just about set to leave, when I was grabbing my bag I noticed something laying still on the opposite side of the seat. In my curiosity, I picked it up and found what was a pair of two keys with a light green turtle shaped keychain attached.

After a while of thinking of who it was in possession to, I came to the conclusion of the waiter. That it had possibly somehow managed to slip from his pockets. Though, he had left the shop about half an hour ago when his shift ended apparently according to an angry 'Georgey' scolding him from the counter. Speaking of which, I didn't want to make him any more annoyed so I didn't bother asking him. Alternatively, I stuffed the keys in my hoodie pocket and would return it when I came back the following day.

I walked out, the jingle of the bell as the door creaked open sounding above my head as I went, looking for any sign of the freckled waitor.

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆, 𝑰 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒕. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏' 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔.