Chapter 1: A Sticky Disaster

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It's now or never.

I knock my vanilla shake off the table in what I'm hoping looks like an accident as the boy of my dreams walks by. Eli, his name-tag read. It doesn't take long for regret to wash over me upon watching my daily pleasure falling mid-air. Five dollars and ten cents worth of my allowance, to be exact.

I grip the corner of the table, shooting after it as an urgent heat prickles my palms. My arm extends brutally; prepared to abandon all joints. Yet, my fingers only graze the side of the cup mere seconds before it crashes to the ground, rolling free; ice scattering, dreams shattering.

Why did I ever think this was going to be a good idea?

Eli pauses mid-stride, turning to see what just happened. I instinctively lean back in my chair, putting some distance between us. I hold my breath, bracing myself for his reaction while his gaze remains fixed on the floor. When our eyes finally meet, a mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of his undeniably pink lips, causing my treacherous chest-organs to make a synchronized attempt on my life.

Relief washes over me; at least he doesn't seem mad. Yet, doubt creeps in as I consider his pleasant demeanor might just be a facade to maintain good customer service. Was making his job harder really the best way to catch his attention? Maybe this wasn't the best idea...

My thoughts come to a screeching halt and my lungs expand to their full capacity when Eli bends down to his heels. He retrieves the cup and deftly rotates it in the palm of his hand with his thumb. I gulp, bewildered by the unexpected appeal of his simple action. I came here to tug on his heart strings, yet here he is, tugging on mine indiscriminately, like a baby mesmerized by jewelry.

He's still hovering above the mess I've made when his gaze holds me prisoner yet again. "You know," his voice drips with amusement as he drawls, sending a jolt of anticipation through my already tumultuous chest.  "You could at least ask your elbow to behave and keep it in check like a normal person." He teased.  

I sigh, allowing my head to sink into my hands as I slump against the table. The fact that he hasn't seen through me yet doesn't make me feel like any less of an idiot. I tuck my hair behind my ear as I contemplate what I should say to him. Probably something like an apology.

Just as I'm about to speak, I catch sight of the smile on his face, and the words I might've said are caught in my throat. I quickly avert my gaze to my lap, a crease forming between my brows. It occurs to me that I should have simply done this the traditional way and asked for his number instead. Elaborate schemes have never been my strong suit.

"Relax, it was just a joke. Spill some water next time, yeah?" He teased again, trying to ease the tension.

Wondering how he can be so calm about this, I turn to look at him. His clear blue eyes are looking up at me—which is more than I can say for my thought process. There was nothing clear about that.

I know he's expecting a response, especially since I haven't breathed a word so far, but messing up and saying the wrong thing is more frightening than the awkward silence enveloping us.

Still, if I don't do something soon, he might think I'm rude or boring. I'll have lost any chance I may have with him. I don't want to come off too strong or make him hate me—clearly, I'm failing miserably at that already. In spite of my simple intentions, the situation only deteriorates from here.

Why, you ask? Because I just gave him a thumbs-up. Smooth. Absolutely smooth.

"Cool," Eli eyes me weirdly, slightly bubbling up, caught between laughter and uncertainty. I think he offers me a thumb-up with his right hand, but it's hard to tell with my mistake—I mean, milkshake—in his grasp. I know this might be wishful thinking, but I really hope he doesn't find me weird.

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