Mystery Coffee Shop Boy

By: Kayla Meyers

He had been coming into the coffee shop where Summer worked for the past two weeks. Every day at precisely 1:30PM he came strolling in wearing a t-shirt with a band logo, raphic design, or a witty phrase on the front and faded light blue jeans. A baseball cap always pulled down over his dark eyes, his dark blonde, slightly shaggy hair spilling into his face. Summer hurried out to the counter before any of her co-workers could get there first – She had been waiting for him, although she’d never admit to it if someone asked – and immediately began mixing up his Grande Spiced Pumpkin Latte. It was what he always ordered, so by now she didn’t need to ask. As she poured the milk into the mixer she discreetly turned the napkin holder or the silver sugar container -- whichever was closest -- slightly to the left so she could watch him without blatantly staring and drooling, although it was tempting. The lower part of his face was softly rounded, his features delicate with a subtle cleft chin, plump, full lips and wide, slightly up-turned nose. He stood patiently as he waited, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, one knee slightly bent as he rocked back and forth on his feet, glancing around at the artwork on the deep wine colored walls. Suddenly, Summer realized that while trying to be inconspicuous in her strategically placed ‘spying device’, she had totally lost focus of the task at hand and had almost overflowed the Styrofoam cup with milk. Quickly she pulled the jug up and twisted the cap back on, trying to maintain a look of casualness as she finished the coffee off with a dollop of whip cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. She tried to steady her suddenly shaky hands, attempting to hide the deep blush that had begun to creep up her neck, heading for her cheeks.

Thank goodness it had been a particularly hot summer. She had taken full advantage of the heat, laying out in the sun for several hours and taking extra long runs in the morning, providing her with a perfect cocoa tan – and, she discovered, a great cover-up.

“Here you go,” she said quietly, smiling shyly at him. For once, she was glad she couldn’t see his eyes. That would only make it worse.

Her words seemed to snap him out of his thoughts as he studied a knock-off of Van Gough’s ‘Starry Night’ that hung on the farthest wall near the restrooms. His head snapped to attention and he flinched slightly. “Oh, thanks,” he said smoothly, his lips stretching into a wide smile, revealing a set of perfect pearly whites. Summer felt her heart do a sudden, quick flip-flop that made her a little dizzy.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his beat-up leather wallet, taking out $4.50 and handing it to her, reaching out for the cup. As he grasped the cup in his long, thick fingers, and Summer marveled momentarily at how his large hands dwarfed hers. They were warm as they lightly brushed her palm, causing a shiver to go up her spine. He took his coffee and retreated to the last table near the window, as he walked Summer took notice of the lazy, comfortable swagger in his steps. He slid into one of the chairs and sat his coffee before him, pulling out a small notepad and pencil from his pocket, he flipped to the first empty space and began to write. Every now and then he would pause to take a sip from his cup or to run the end of his pencil across his full lower lip thoughtfully as he stared out into the parking lot.

Summer deposited the money into the cash register, noting that he had once again slipped her an extra $5.00. She found herself making every excuse to stay out in front while he was there; the filter in the brewer needed to be changed, the sugar needed to be refilled, the small plastic cups of cream needed to be restocked. All the while she would continue to briefly glance over, holding her gaze just long enough to watch him as he sat hunched over the table, his elbows resting at the edge, his chin resting on his knuckles. His arms were toned, although not overly muscular like most of the meat-head jocks at the college. The baseball cap still pulled down low over his eyes; long eyelashes poked out underneath the bill and fluttered each time he blinked. Once his thoughts and coffee ran out, he pushed his chair back and stood up slowly, pulling at the back of his shirt that had ridden up as he sat. He strutted over to the trashcan nearest the counter and tossed away his cup. Before he left he went back over to the table, carefully mopping up any small drip that might have spilled, then pushing his chair back into its original position. He bunched the napkin up into a tight ball in his hands and tossed it into the trashcan near the door, pushing the door open as the bells on the handle chimed. Before leaving he turned his face back toward Summer, offering another bright smile and a short wave of his hand, then turned and stepped out into the bright, crisp afternoon.

 As she watched the sunlight wash over his back, his arms swinging languidly at his side, something inside tugged at her heart, churning and wrenching her stomach.
She shook her head as she turned toward the back room.

You really need to get out more, Summer, she thought to herself sardonically.