part 2 || spilled coffee

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brooke POV


I tuck my phone into my jacket and hop off the bus. Maybe the cute guy will notice me today, maybe not. I've decided to start calling him barista boy, after all he comes here practically every day. I walk into the cafe and scan the room, hmm that's odd, barista boy isn't here. I check my phone, its 7:15.

For the last two weeks I've come here at 7:15 and barista boy has been in the corner reading a book, drinking a white mocha and eating an m&m cookie. Maybe he's just running late, yeah he's just running a little late. I walk up to the counter and order.

"A chocolate croissant and an espresso please," the girl with pink hair behind the counter nods.

"That will be $7.48 please," she says in a bored tone. I pay and she hands me my drink, I nod a quick thanks and sit down at the table by the window. I pull my laptop out of my satchel and open it to chapter 24 of my story. Taking a sip of my espresso, I begin to write.


After 45 minutes of writing and glancing at the door to see if he shows up I decide he's not coming. I take another sip of my almost untouched coffee and pack up. I walk over to the door glancing over my shoulder one last time, to see if he somehow snuck in without my knowing.

SMACK

Hot coffee spills down the front of my jacket, as I run into a solid body.

"Shit, I'm so fucking sorry," a British male voice says. Oh fuck, I know that voice... it's barista boy.

"No, no it's not your fault," I stutter, as the boy rushes over to the counter to get napkins. He sprints back over to me and starts dabbing at my jacket.

"Yeah no it is my fault, I'm an absolute idiot," he smiles at me, and my heart melts into a puddle at my feet, "I guess I owe you a coffee now,"

"Yeah um that sounds good," I stutter, he stuffs the napkins into one of his hands and sticks out his hand.

"I'm Harrison,"

"Brooklyn," I reply and shake his outstretched hand.

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