Coffee and Sugar | Teen Ink

Coffee and Sugar

February 6, 2013
By Lizzy-Lizzy BRONZE, Littleton, New Hampshire
Lizzy-Lizzy BRONZE, Littleton, New Hampshire
3 articles 4 photos 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth till the hour of separation."

"Do you want cream and sugar in your coffee?" His broad frame leaned against the counter. I wasn't sure what to say. It took me a second to realize he was referring to the drink I ordered, and not his lips.

"Uh yeah sure. Cream please." I must have sounded like I had a large spider on the back of my neck. He rattled his fingers on the counter as if he was deciding on something. I wished he had a name tag. They don't do that in cafes. I could smell roasted beans and sugary pastries, and ordinarily I'd feel relaxed here. Today I felt as if I was charged with nervous energy and I was forced to contain it. I found myself transfixed by the strange abstract art hanging on the wall next to me. All I could see were splashes of red, cold streaks of blue, and speckles of vibrant white paint.

"Here you go ma'am." I jolted my mind away from the painting. The barista handed me my cup of coffee, "and that will be...two dollars and fifty cents." I looked up and his eyes met mine. I felt as if his stare was unmasking my feeble composure. His mouth twitched into a sly smile. He knew exactly what I was thinking. "Don't worry about the fifty cents." He said, when my hands shakily searched through the black hole called my purse. "I'm so sorry, uh, yeah thank you." I mumbled.

Have you ever walked out of a public place, and felt physically awkward? My legs felt like a new invention. I sighed with relief when I got outside. Shameful relief. I was too much of a coward to even ask him his name. I quickly drifted through the crowds of summer tourists and came across a busker. She was a tall, dark haired woman playing the violin. The sweet and mellow sounds of her playing, kept me still. I took a deep breath and decided to calm myself down. If I hadn't stopped and listened to her play, I probably never would have known the barista's name. I felt someone approach me, and I turned my head to face him. He was breathless, as if he had ran to catch up with me.

"My name's Daniel, and I forgot about the sugar, sorry." He smiled. "Here." Before I could open my mouth to speak, he grabbed my hand and stuffed a packet of sugar in it, closing my fingers around it with his palm. A sudden fire exploded in my chest as I felt my entire body tense up, and my heart started to race. "I-I-Uh..." but he already walked away. I rushed through the people passing me, and stopped short when I realized he'd vanished. Dismay lurked in the back of my mind, and I tentatively peeled off the cover on my cup of coffee, and ripped open the pack of sugar with my teeth. That's when I realized he'd written his number on the packet.

The author's comments:
I wrote this in my math class, (I was a tad distracted.) I have been thinking of turning it into a full novel, but I'm not sure. Yes I'm that girl, no I've never been a nervous wreck in front of a guy handing me coffee.

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