Just What I Ordered – Take Me Like Your Coffee 1

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The roar of fluffed milk gradually turned into humming. I waited for my latte, watching our new barista operate all those jugs and cups. Slowly I let myself get lost in the sounds of his pottering, relaxed, an absent-minded smile blossoming on my face. I liked watching his hands, as he knew what he was doing, confidently operating his utensils and steam contraptions. I watched him pour my latte together into a cup, moving with a simple grace under his apron, tightly wrapped around his waist. His face looked concentrated, and way too focused to pay attention to occasional unruly strands of blond hair escaping his ponytail and obscuring his vision. When he suddenly turned towards me and he noticed I was staring at him, he smiled back with a grin of someone who enjoys his isvecbahis work. The morning passed quietly as I sipped my coffee, flicking through my notebooks. Deep in thoughts, I found myself involuntarily doodling spiral patterns from a green dress of a retro cutie sitting not far from me. In fact, at that point I didn’t notice anything else interesting about her, while she was sitting on a worn out sofa, reading and sipping coffee. What I did notice thou, was that barista was possibly looking at her too, checking her out, as he positioned orders on a massive tray. Just as he was navigating between the obstacles, carrying a tray full of cups, plates and bottles by my table, a naughty strand of hair covered his eyes just for a second too long. Suddenly out of balance, isveçbahis giriş he dropped everything with a loud gasp. I narrowly saved my notebooks, scooping them from the table milliseconds before coffee and cakes splashed all over it, making lots of rattle. As the embarrassed, blushing barista started cleaning it all up, I spotted a piece of paper floating on a brownish puddle right next to my hand. It had words, “I’m off at 6:00 pm, wanna pick me up?” written on it with a blue pen. I figured that it must be the barista’s note to that girl wearing a green retro dress, and I couldn’t make up my mind whether this type of pick-up method is cute or creepy. And so, not quite sure why, maybe led by some instinct or panicky shyness, I cramped the note into a ball and isveçbahis yeni giriş sneaked it into my pocket. Barista kept on cleaning with a very embarrassed look, not taking his eyes off the floor. Somehow I assumed that he must be very conscious of how unimpressed the green dress chic must be with his clumsiness. In my head, I did him a favour by hiding the note, since his pickup attempt wouldn’t work anyway in such an unfortunate moment. Poor cute shy guy, I somehow felt sympathy for him in his adorable little apron, covered in stains. Shortly after that, I stood up and left the cafe, stained here and there with the coffee that he spilled on me. I left him double of my usual tip to somehow cheer him up. After all it wasn’t his fault that he tripped, or maybe I felt guilty for taking his note, or just sorry for his failure to ask the girl out? Anyhow, just as I was about to chuck out the moist ball of paper from my pocket I couldn’t resist the urge to unwrap it and read his note again.

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