"She's my honeydew. Sweeter than most, and the best in every way."
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Jealous, grumpy, and glaring Ryland Andrews needs a little sweetness in his life, and who better to give it to him than his crush of 6 years.
Bubbly, talkative, and a little too...
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Ryland's POV
I glance down at my watch, mentally groaning at the time. I had been stuck in this line for ten minutes, and if I wasn't at the paper in the same amount of time, I would be late.
My jaw clenches with impatience. Why do people take so long to order? Only two people stood between me and the cashier, and if they just hurried the fuck up, I would be able to get back.
I only came to order one thing anyway.
The memory of standing here with Lizzie only two days ago almost makes me want to smile outwardly, a temptation I resist.
She chatted the whole wait, and I held onto her every word like some obsessed little kid.
When I look to the right, I can see the booth we sat in. Underneath it, the rod holding up the table stands strong.
She swung her legs back and forth almost the whole time we were seated, hitting my calves instead of the table.
Actually, she didn't seem to notice, and I wasn't going to point it out either. It didn't hurt, and hell, even if it had, I wouldn't have said a word.
It's almost stupid how she could do anything to me, and I would just let her. She could murder me and I might even thank her.
As long as she did it to me.
It was mentioned in passing that she loved anything chocolate. "Hot chocolate is almost the same as chocolate milk, just warm. And chocolate milk is the best."
So now, here I am. Buying her a hot chocolate.
When my turn finally comes in line, I have six minutes to rush back to school. I repeat her order from Wednesday that I'd memorized: "A medium hot chocolate with extra whipped cream."
The cashier looked a little older than me, maybe in his early twenties. He put the order into the screen in front of him, looking up at me with an eyebrow raised.
"You don't strike me as the 'extra whipped cream' type."
The fuck?
I roll my eyes and glare at him, but he just looks at me with a smirk. "Oh, is this for a special someone?"
Who is this bitch?
He reminds me of Tommy; openly friendly and teasing with people he doesn't even know.
I blink at him, one time, then two, then three...
He smiles at my displeased expression, walking off to make my drink as I move to wait in the corner.
I bite my cheek as the minutes pass by. Finally, my name is called and to my disappointment, the same guy hands me the drink.
