𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‚ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 4

y/n pov 

It sucks not having my diary. I'm still looking for it, but I've resorted to just using an old notebook I found in the kitchen.

Seeing another customer waiting to order, I walk to the till. With my eyes focused on the little ordering device, I recite the usual, "Hi, what can i get for you today-"

And then I look up.

His soft eyes stared right back. A load of fluffy, hair with one appealing strand falling over his eyes framed his face perfectly, along with his sharp nose and lips. A few cuts and marks were sprinkled over his face, making me wonder what this man had been through.

He looked at me lazily. "Uh, can i get," he smoothed back his hair making my heart throb a little, "One brown sugar iced latte, to go please."

I gulp heavily, hoping he didn't hear. I pushed the thoughts right back. "Yep, is that all for today?" He nods in response.

"A man with good taste, I see," I smirk. "That'll be $4.75. Could I get your name for the order?"

Silence follows, making me look back up at the man, until words break through. "Well, I'm starting to question if I really want the drink or not."

I stare at him. "Excuse me?" I just put that order in the fucking till.

"You're interesting. I want your number, miss..." his eyes glide over to my chest, where my name badge was located, "Y/n."

I froze again, but kept the confidence going. "Well, what if I don't want to give it to you?"

The man placed both of his hands on the counter, leaned forward and whispered.

"Then I'll come here every day and ask for it until you give it to me."

I almost fall to my knees. Did I not only just meet this guy?

I decided to play a little bit.

"$4.75, mister. Would that be card, or cash?"

Without taking his eyes off me, he pulls out his wallet and scans his card in such an attractive manner I hated to admit.

"Have a seat. It won't be long."

~~~

I start making his drink, wondering what the fuck just happened. I make sure to add my number on to a piece of paper to see how this would play out.

When I walk over to hand it to him, his face is painted with a smirk I just wished to slap off.

"Your order, sir."

And doing exactly what he did to me, I place my hands on his table and lean forward.

"Enjoy," I whisper.

Without looking back, I walk over to serve the next customer, hopefully leaving him in a mess.