Daniel Sintos Daniel Sintos
Recommendations: 16

Its not it's in "it's abstract and scenic art..."

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Landan Reimer Landan Reimer
Recommendations: 5

Loser in Love Pt 1: Barista

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She had a friend.

partially true story about how i met my soon to be fiance, except for everything. the only true part is that she asked me out :p

      I lean back in the overstuffed chair, letting out a small sigh of pleasure from the way it cushions my body. I’m in a little café; its abstract and scenic art along the walls, combined with strong pastel colors make it nothing special in the grand scope of cafes. She is what makes it special.
       Almost every day after a long day of work I come to this spot in the back of the shop. It’s shunned for a variety of reasons; the hipsters can’t show off their style and love of non-mainstream coffee places from back here, the middle age mothers feel its too close to the bathrooms and the germs in them, and the aspiring writers find it too dark and moody for them to focus their art. For me, it’s just perfect.  I can nurse my cup of green tea, read up on news on my iPad and do a little stalking.
       Whoa there, you just like to jump to conclusions don’t you? I’m joking of course. The fact is, I am a total wuss. I come here day after day to get my courage up to ask her out for supper, or maybe coffee. Not that that would be the lamest date ever. I picture it now: “we can just come here after you get off work.” As you can see, there’s a very good reason as to why I’m sitting in the back of a fairly standard café, racking my brains for some way to ask her out, and not already on a date with her.
       By now you’re thinking, who is this woman, why would I be so obsessed? Let me describe her to you. Her thick brown hair hangs a little past her shoulders, in heavy ringlets. It frames her oval mocha face, which has the most beautiful chocolate brown eyes and full lips with a slight upturn at all times. Her nose is petite, with a crooked bridge, possibly from a childhood fall that broke it. She’s pretty short, most likely five feet flat. A chest that fits her frame, perky with a slight bounce when she walks. Legs that take up just over half her height ending in an ass one might describe as a ”ghetto booty.” Not me of course, I like to think I’m a gentleman.
       As you can tell, I’ve had a pathetically long time to check her out, and I am no closer to talking to her for more than a small hello. Sure, she greets me when I come in everyday with a hello that twinkles her eyes and a little smile I want to consider flirty, but I could be way off base. And she also makes sure that I am never out of tea, going out of her way to make a trip to the back of the shop to ask if I’m doing all right. But I’ve never been suave enough to make it farther than that into the conversation.
       There’s only one possibility to explain my colossal failure: I am a loser. Don’t feel bad for me, I’ve put myself in this position, and I could get out of it if I tried hard enough, but I’ve become comfortable with this mediocrity and failure of a manhood I’m living. Eh, if there’s one redeeming factor to coming here, it’s that the consistent green tea keeps me regular.
       Comfortable in my contemplative reverie, I don’t notice her coming to check on me. “You need a fill up there cutie?” I look up into her beautiful eyes and almost lose myself in them
       “Ummm… yeah I do, thanks” I hand the cup up to her, her hand brushing mine as she take it. My heart races in my chest and I want to hide. Yeah, there’s no hiding it, I’m a failure of a man. I blush.
       She puts the steaming cup down, but instead of walking away sits down on the arm of the chair beside me. “Know what I hate about this place? Everyday the manager bitches at me for no reason other than to have herself a little power trip over me. But I don’t have time to look for a new job because I’m swamped with studies”
       “Yeah, that’s never fun” the words stick in my throat and I’m pretty sure I’m mumbling. But she’s heard me; she nods and gives me a smile. If I were standing up I would’ve fallen, thank god for over stuffed chairs.
       “I’m Kalista,” her hand extends to me, expectant. I take it and consider kissing it for a moment, but figure that would be too forward and just let her know sooner that I am a loser she doesn’t want to be with.
       “Tim” I take a sip of the scalding tea because I’m suddenly very aware of my hands and am very uncertain of what they would do normally in this situation.
       “Well Tim, do you know what I think you should do?”
       Cover your face in kisses and promise you the moon? I just might if I open my mouth again, but I control the urge. “No I really don’t.”
       “Take me out for supper, maybe a movie after that.” My head turns towards her in surprise. I couldn’t have heard that right, could I? My mouth works without sound and I’m vaguely aware that I am holding my breath in shock. She laughs at my reaction. “I see you in here everyday, stealing glances when you think I’m not looking. I think you’re cute, and I find your shyness adorable”
       So wait, the whole time I thought that I was just being a tool, she found me endearing? Maybe the universe is a fair place after all. I clear my throat
       “Um… would you like to go for supper sometime with me?”
       “I thought you’d never ask” 1 comment

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