“I’ll grab us a seat, and you just order me whatever you get,” I offer, noticing that there’s only one table left open, and I want to snatch it before someone else comes along. This is my chance to make a friend, and I’m not going to let anyone take it from me.
“Sounds good,” she chirps, turning toward the front counter where the barista is waiting. He’s cute, and I’m staring at him awkwardly, willing my feet to move. He glances up from my friend, who I just realized never gave me her name, and he winks at me. Actually winks. My face heats, and I quickly turn on my heel and go to the open table.
I set my stuff down and pull my laptop out of my bag. Well, not only have I made a friend, but I’ve openly gawked at an attractive man in public.
Could I get any more embarrassing? I rub the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to alleviate the tight feeling in my chest.
“What are you working on?” she asks, sitting across from me and placing her bag on the table. A variety of pins are tacked on there. Horror characters, music pins, even one of a uterus, but the quote is too small for me to read.
“English. We’re reading an Epic, and my professor likes to ask questions about the text as soon as they walk in. If they call on you, and you don’t know the answer, they mark you absent for the day.” She whistles.
“Pain in the ass?” I nod my head, pulling up the text and reaching for my pen and paper in my bag so I can take notes.
“I guess it could be worse, though, I could be studying pre-med,” I joke, and she cracks up, laughing loud enough for people at other tables to turn and look at us. Her laughter spurs me into my own, both of us cackling loudly over something that shouldn’t be this funny.
“I guess I had that coming. So, what’s your name? I never asked.”
“Hunter, and yours?”
“Danielle.”
A throat clears, and the barista who winked at me is holding two cups of coffee.
“Two iced, lavender oat milk lattes?” his deep voice questions, and I have to keep my composure while Danielle moves her stuff around to make room for the two drinks. “If you need anything else, just let me know.” He turns and walks away as quickly as he came.
Wide-eyed, I look at Danielle, and she has a devious twinkle in her eyes. “He’s cute right?” she offers, and I shrug, not knowing if this is about to be a witch hunt for me to accept my sexuality.
“You don’t think?”
“He’s okay,” I affirm, taking a sip of the cold drink, glad I took her suggestion because the hint of lavender with the creamy taste of oat milk is good.
“So I guess since you think he’s just okay, I’ll throw away my receipt with his number on it.”
“What? No, absolutely not. Give it here.” I extend my hand, waiting for her to put the receipt in it, knowing that I just outed myself to the one person who could be my friend. But if he’s interested, that means he might also want to be my friend, and I would be dumb to pass that up.
She passes it over, and right there on the top is his name,Thomas,and his number right underneath with a smiley face. Oh. The smile on my face dims, and I hand it back to her.
“I think it’s for you.” She makes apsshhsound and tries to give me back the receipt.
“He’s in my organic chemistry lab, we talk all the time. I have his number.”
My fingers twitch with the need to steal the receipt back again and put the number in my phone before she changes her mind and actually throws it away.
After the receipt is in my grasp, I insert the number quickly into my phone. I’m not going to text him yet because that would make me look desperate, and nobody likes desperation.
We fill the time with Danielle talking out loud to herself about her science experiments, her reasoning is that talking out loud helps her learn faster. I want to make the joke that she just likes to hear herself talk, but I think that would be pushing it.
I finish my reading and my cup of coffee. I have a new email from my website, and I skim through it, feeling my body shiver in anticipation. It’s one of my biggest orders for bookmarks yet. It might not be much, but knowing that people want to buy my stuff makes me feel like the real deal, and not a sham.
“Hey,” I say loud enough for Danielle to hear me over her ramblings.
“What’s up?” She tilts her head to the side, some of the red tresses falling over her shoulder like waves.
“Are you busy tonight? I just got a huge order in, and if you want to come back to my dorm, you can study there while I work.” It sounds cheesy and weird. I’m convinced she’s going to tell me no.
“Hell yeah. And on the way there, you can tell me all about what this order is.”
And that’s what I do. I tell her about making bookmarks and how I sell them. My favorite books, my least favorite books, and everything in between. She says she hasn’t picked up a book that wasn’t a textbook since middle school, when she was forced to read, and even then, she hated it.
