Vanilla Latte

        If Starbucks had delivery, I’d be the first to sign up. As of late, I was working from home on a small project and I was getting tired of running out to get coffee every few hours even if the weather was always a perfect balance of bright and breezy like today.

        “Oh!” I yelped in surprise as my hand bumped into someone else’s while reaching for the door of Starbucks.

        I looked up into warm hazel eyes and a bright but apologetic smile, “Sorry, my fault.”

        I wasn’t going to lie, working in computer programming could deprive a woman of her daily dose of eye candy. I felt like I had just overdosed. For a moment, I just stared stupidly like a deer caught in headlights.

        “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the door handle, which my hand was still not sure whether to take or not.

        “U-uh, yeah! Of course!” I snapped out of it. “S-sorry…” I mumbled as I backed up and retracted my hand.

        He pulled open the door and waited, surprisingly. “After you.”

        I swallowed the drool that was probably making its way down my chin and muttered a quick thanks before trotting inside and lining up. I was very aware that he was right behind me, craning his neck to read the menu. I tried to focus on my surroundings in order to compose myself, like the rich smell of coffee beans in the air or the gentle caress of a few shy sunbeams on my arm.

        “A regular?” he asked and I turned around to look at him in confusion. He chuckled. “Seeing as you didn’t even bother to look at the menu.”

        What am I? A high school girl? The boy laughed and I’m already fumbling for words. “Uh, yeah,” was all I could manage coherently.

        “A programmer definitely needs their daily dose of caffeine, that’s for sure. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around more often,” he said with a dimpled smile.

        Of course he had dimples. He probably had a four-point-O GPA and a six-pack too.

        And a girlfriend, a snarky voice in the back of my mind sneered. I snapped back to attention, “Wait, how do you know I’m a programmer?” I demanded with narrowed eyes.

        He raised an amused eyebrow at me and jerked his chin at my torso. I looked down and was about to shout back something in defense of my non-existent curves but quickly realized that he was most likely referring to my ‘what part of 01100010 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110010 01111001 didn’t you understand?’ shirt that I was currently wearing. “Oh,” came my very intelligent answer.

        Before I had a chance to redeem myself, the barista decided that now was a good time to interrupt. “Miss? May I take your order?”

        “U-uh, yeah. A Vanilla Latte, please. Grande.” I stepped aside to wait for my order after fumbling with my change.

        “Vanilla Latte. Venti, please.” My heart raced in giddy excitement. It was such a ridiculous coincidence that I was suspicious he was just playing with me.

        Oh, no, Nikki. You don’t have time for this. Get your drink and get back to work! The know-it-all in my head was nagging again.

        As much as I wanted to disagree and linger to steal a few more glances at this Adonis that I had chanced upon, I knew that I was on a tight schedule. My drink arrived on the counter at the same time as his. So, as gracefully as I could, I grabbed it and sped towards the door, not sparing a single glance backwards.