He's Probably Gonna Spit in My Drink

Chapter 3 - A Really Bad Day

Stephan had been having the absolute shittiest day and that Alexander kid in that stupid "no good horrible bad day" book could kiss his ass if he thought he had a worse go at it than Stephan, nothing could rival the sheer, utter shittiness of that craptastic Friday. Stephan had woken up feeling actually refreshed for once in his life, had gotten to class on time, and hadn't even yawned once all the way up until his third class of the day - A new record! The weather was perfect, his hair styled itself into perfection with just a bit of brushing, and he was wearing one of his favorite shirts. The oddest thing about it all was that, for once in his life, Stephan could actually say he felt good.

Now you may be thinking, as any logical person would, that this sounds like a great day but you would be fucking wrong. You would be fucking wrong because as much as Stephan tried to blame the constant, low burn, lightness he felt that day on the fact that he'd actually gotten some sleep that night, he knew that wasn't the truth. You would be so fucking wrong because Stephan was having to face the fact that he was feeling this nice because Minh - Which made this an absolutely horrible day, thank you very much.

Stephan wanted to deny it, god, the boy wanted nothing more than to just deny it and go on hating that stupid, sexy fucktard like he always had but it just wasn't happening. When he sat in Statistics and tried to listen about scientific theories and how they could be applied to mathematics, he found his mind drifting, not to video games and hot girls like it should, but to the way Minh had looked trying to hide his smile. When he forced himself to focus on his Anatomy worksheet the only way he could correctly name the muscles of the arm was by remembering the way those muscles had bulged in Minh's arm when he pushed himself off the counter. (Stephan got a perfect score on that worksheet and he never felt worse about a good grade in his life.) If the boy let his mind wander for even a moment, it immediately drifted to the ever present thought of wondering what was going to be written on the bottom of his cup today, Stephan only noticing how far his brain had slipped from the task at hand when the now familiar feeling of excitement bubbled up in his chest and filled his heart with giddy anticipation.

Stephan couldn't deny it. After the discovery of the secret messages on the bottom of his cup and the interaction yesterday evening, his depthless sexual attraction had developed into an actual crush. The thought was terrifying.

Yet, horrified as he was, Stephan found himself nearly barreling out of the classroom the moment the clock struck the hour that freed him from that tortuous purgatory and rushing all the way to the tiny coffee shop he'd come to rely so much on, the neon sign spelling out "Just Off Campus Grounds" a beacon of hope and wonder in the brunette's eyes. The boy came to a halt just outside the door, suddenly nervous and uncertain but after a long moment he steeled himself with the firm reminder that Minh was an asshole and would continue to be an asshole, thus nothing about today would be any different. Still, the teen was nearly shaking when he finally pushed open the large, glass door and forced himself into a slow walk as he strolled to the cash register with as much casual ease as he could muster.

Minh was still working on the guy in front of Stephan's drink when the brunette finally got to a place where he could see behind the smooth black surface of the counter where the cash register sat and the nervous boy leaned against the sleek surface of the tabletop, trying to make himself look as casual as possible and totally not like he was trying to get a better view. All the while the teen forcibly tied tight chains about the butterflies flitting around his stomach, determinedly trying to look as irritated and unhappy to be there as humanly possible for someone who felt he might just combust on the spot if the barista so much as looked his way.

Minh moved with careful precision about the kitchen, though it was not the movement of the boy's body across the expanse of the tile that caught Stephan's attention this time but rather the more intricate motions carried out by the barista. Specifically, those of his hands. Broad, with long fingers and smooth nails, they moved rapidly and with a certain surety that could only be described as confidence in its purest form. Long fingers reached for ingredients and delicately garnished the smallest bits and pieces in precisely the right way over the swirling surface of the drink before those masterful digits carefully twirled around a thin stirring rod to mix them in. The flat expanse of the boy's palm smacked harshly against the bottom of a stubborn container of spice time and again before the stuff cooperated, becoming malleable under the torment of the boy's hands in a way that left Stephan strangely breathless and with the oddest desire to pursue a career in becoming a spice.