Chapter 1
I’m standing behind him in line again. I can smell his cologne mixing with the deep warm aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. The raven-haired barista asks for his order, as she smiles coyly. Oh barf. She knows what he wants; he orders the same thing every day.
“Tall Americano with two pumps of caramel,” he responds as though he is completely oblivious to how frickin’ hot it is when he says “car-a-mel”.
The barista turns bright red when he hands her his cash and tells her to keep the change. My eyes roll involuntarily as she makes a sound between a giggle and a mumbled “thank you”. He turns and nearly runs into me because I’m standing much closer than is socially acceptable. I put my head down and apologize before stepping up to the counter.
“Welcome to the Daily Grind. What can I brew just for you this morning?”
I stare blankly at her for a moment. My brain can’t process the high-pitched whine of her voice and her obnoxiously chipper tone while I resist the urge to punch her in the throat. I blink twice as I regain my composure.
“Looks like you need some coffee stat, but did you need a moment to think about your order?” She asks, ignorant to the real reason for my hesitation.
“Uh, no. I’ll take a tall Hazelnut Latte, iced, with a pump of French Vanilla, and a dollop of non-fat whipped cream,” I reply as I watch her press the buttons on the register in front her.
I pay her an exorbitant amount of money for a cup of liquid beans with flavoring and move away to wait with him. I don’t get to stand next to him long before the other barista winks, smiles and hands him his coffee. He excuses himself and maneuvers around me, heading for his usual table in the corner. I shiver involuntarily when his arm brushes mine. I really shouldn’t be this attracted to him; he’s probably too old for me. I find myself staring at him covertly by pretending to look out the window. He keeps his hair cropped close to his head on the sides and back, but has enough hair on top to let the careless waves catch the sunlight. The sprinkling of gray betrays the age his flawless face is hiding.
He wears a faded t-shirt with small tears along the collar and a pair of basketball shorts. From the earbuds hanging around his neck every day, I know he stops here at some point on his morning run. He’s just sweaty enough to make it obvious he’s working hard but not sweaty enough to be disgusting. Today, his stubble covers his face and the flecks of gray are more obvious than ever. I first saw him here in the spring. I’ve been going to the Daily Grind nearly every day since I started school three years ago. There are very few regulars, so I took note when an incredibly sexy man starts frequenting my favorite spot.
I realize I’m staring again and try to look at anything but him. I can’t help but sneak a look now and then. I’d noticed long ago that his ring finger was vacant save for the faint imprinted remnants of a long-worn wedding band. It makes me wonder if he’s a creep trolling for chicks or a divorcee. I hope for the latter because I can’t imagine that someone as quiet and shy as he seems to be would be out trying to cheat on his wife.
“Miss?” I’m snapped back to reality by that incredibly annoying barista.
I take my coffee and sit down in the corner opposite his table. He is reading a book but I can’t tell what it is. This is his morning routine; he gets coffee, reads, and then leaves to be sexy somewhere else. I open my own book and pick up where I left off. I’m on summer break from college but I’m getting antsy to start class again. In less than a week I’ll be returning to the University of Chicago, majoring in English Language and Literature. I’m a self-proclaimed nerd so the idea of going back to school is exciting for me.
I’m re-reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time. There’s just something
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