The Girl In The Cafe

Ugh....There she is again. 9:45 in the morning like clockwork; she walks in, strides up to the front desk, and orders four black Americanos, and one more with two pumps of caramel and hazelnut oatmilk creamer. I wonder who gets the diabetes cream with a side of coffee?

Certainly not her. She always takes a sip of one of the black coffees before she even gets to the door. Today she's heavy on the eyeliner, messy short dark hair with a gray tank top covered by a black button up, and black pants with chains hanging from them. Mmm, I can practically feel the cold against my skin from chains wrapped around my whole body. They tighten as she pulls me close and kisses me with her....Ohhh. My. Gods, Jessica: get ahold of yourself! This is a café, not a damned sex club!

I look down, wrap my janky fingers around my warm mug and lift it to my lips, taking in the sweet scent of nutmeg as I sip from my pumpkin spice latte in an ugly mug probably made by that artisan down the street. For two weeks I've been coming in here, ordering my little white girl lattes and a buttery, flakey croissant that reminds me of my year studying in Paris back in college. I know, I know....I'm a walking stereotype. But what's a girl gonna do? I love what I love. Right now, I'm loving the thought of those chains....Damn it, Jessica. Stop daydreaming and just talk to her, you useless lesbian!

Obviously, I don't come here for the coffee. Its mediocre at best, but the croissants are just...lovely. But no. I came in here two weeks ago because it was across the street from that damn local newspaper that rejected me in an interview just because I said I put salt on my food before I taste it What the hell kind of interview question is that anyway -- Do I salt my food immediately when the waiter brings it? What the hell does that have to do with being a good editor? Anyway, kind of glad that didn't work out. That old boomer editor gave me the creeps. Besides, it led me here. Then she walked in. 9:45 am sharp, and Jesus, did she look like all of hell's temptation and fury squeezed into a five foot rage demon. Oh, I lost my soul to her right there, honey.

Shit, she's leaving! Say something dammit! What the hell do I say? She glances my way, and all I can work out is a slight nod. Gods, I really am a useless lesbian! And there she goes, doorbell ringing as she walks out of my day again without a word. This is stupid. I'm stupid. She's probably not even into me. Look at me, pigging out on this damn croissant and gulping down on this hot liquid emo girl repellant. She probably thinks I'm lame. Truth is, she's right. Im not cool like her. While she's out probably chopping wood, drinking dark beer and playing some emo shit on her awesome guitar, I'm sitting at home, nose-deep in some cheesy smut or pretending to write like a real author. Ugh.....I am lame. What am I doing here? I feel like such an idiot. Well, let's get this shit down, and get out of here. I've gotta stop doing this. It's embarrassing. Tomorrow I'm going to my regular café by the flat.

...

"Excuse me, miss?" Awakened from my daydreaming by the cashier, I shake my head out of my sleepy drifting. "I asked what I can get for you." she says, sounding slightly annoyed, but cordial as she can muster in her best customer service voice. Not a damned pumpkin spice, I'll tell you that. And no more croissants. I need to eat healthier.

"Uhh....I'll have an Americano. Black." What?! Why the hell did you get that?! You don't drink black coffee. It tastes like cigarettes laced with body odor! So now you're going to try to impress her by copying her usual. You realize you're even more lame now, with a side of crazy and creepy, don't you? Might as well see if they have that on the menu. One order of the crazy creepy crepe for the crazy bitch with the blonde waves, please. "Umm....Can I also have a bran muffin with that? You have that?" What?! A bran muffin? Seriously? Oh, now you're just screaming desperation, Jessica.

I take my weird order back to my usual table -- the perfect spot to see her when she comes in, and then unsuspectingly sneak little peeks of her as she makes her usual order. Okay.....I'm totally stalking her at this point. Gods this is crazy. I'm crazy. I'm a stalking serial killer just waiting to explode in a murderous rampage, unleashed on this little town because I couldn't handle the rejection of the girl I've been stalking for weeks. People of Logston, beware! Your future bloody headliner is sitting here.....Eating a bran muffin. I stare down at the bland, circular top of the muffin. If you don't eat this, your waist is gonna look like it. Then your signature killer move will be cannibalism....Cause you'll just eat people. Cause you're fat. Eat your muffin, cannibal.

As I take a ridiculously large and unattractive bite of my poop muffin, I hear the doorbell ring as the door swings open. 9:45. And stepping through is the cause of my heart thumping.....and my future murder spree, apparently. I gulp down the dry muffin bite. Eww, gods.....It's like eating powdered and baked cardboard. It's even dry going down!

Oh my gods, she's wearing tight jeans today. And an unbuttoned, red plaid shirt with a black tank top underneath. She really is a lumberjack! Ohhh honey, let me watch as you split my....Jessica, stop. Don't be a weirdo. You're already creepy enough with your coffee copy and bran muffin bits in your teeth.

When she gets up to the cashier, I sneak a glance at her with her back turned to me. Then I see the creeper beside me, staring at me with an even more thirsty look than what I probably have on my face right now. Dude, I am NOT interested. Go away or I will definitely make that whole Butcher of Logston thing a reality, starting with you. I need to find a way quick to let him know I don't play with boys, without drawing too much unwanted attention. Ugh, sure worked on my ex boyfriend. The minute I told him I was a lesbian, he lost all sense of composure and started yelling at me.

Nevermind anymore that I was breaking up with him. Nevermind his pleas to "work it out together." Now I was suddenly a "carpet munching whore". I walked out on him screaming and throwing shit around, and never looked back. But this guy, he'd probably get that gross look on his face before saying something disgusting. Weird how men can be barbarically infuriated by that when it affects them, and yet fantasize about it in their sick dreams and get super gross when they meet us. Ugh....I don't wanna deal with any that, so I just flip him the finger with a disgusted look on my face, hoping he won't persist or get toxic. Good, he's leaving. Bit of luck, there.

Back to what I want. She always reads the entire menu above the front desk while she's waiting. I wonder if she's thinking about what she might try out one day, or if shes chuckling to herself at the different kinds of ways a person can order a simple cup of coffee? She certainly likes hers simple on the reg, but sometimes a girl's got to branch out too.

Mmm, I could so sneak up behind her, wrap my arms around her small waist from behind, rest my chin on her shoulder. We do a slow little rocking dance back and forth together, our bodies locked close together in rhythm with the coffeehouse music playing. I can smell the scent of sandalwood as I sniff her cologne -- Oh, that scent fills my senses every time she walks by my table in the mornings. We slow our little dance, then she turns in my arms, takes gentle hold of my hips as she leans closer, my soft lips just aching for the touch of hers. When her lips graze mine, I meet them eagerly, taking in the feel of her skin as I press deep. Her tongue slips across my lower lip, asking for permission, and I part mine.

We stand there, tongues entwined in a dance, feeling every bit of each other as we kiss with a passion. I cant help it. My leg lifts while she holds me, her mouth taking every bit of my soul from behind my kiss as I willingly give her every passion I have inside me. I let my leg down as our lips part. We stand there, looking into each other's eyes longingly, lustfully. She grabs me by my hair, jerking downward. The slight, delicious pain courses across my skull as I let out a whimper and my mouth naturally opens for her. She wastes no time, but claims it all for herself in her fiery kiss.

Just when I am ready to submit all of my will, she.....Whoa......Holy crap, Jessica! Calm the hell down! THIS IS A CAFÉ! If you really want that to happen, then go and talk to the girl! Gods, why cant you be more confident like other girls? Is it really so hard to just have a damned conversation?! All you gotta do is walk up and say hi, and let things happen from there. Stop being such a baby! You're so lame! I bet she has enough confidence to approach a girl she's into. And that's why she's not into you: because you're too much of a whiny, scared little.....

"Excuse me, miss?" Everything comes to a screeching halt. I look up, and there she is, holding a single cup of black Americano in her hand. She's just so damned pretty. But why is she here, talking to me? What could she possibly want? I come to my senses, and realize my hands are propping my head up, fingers pressed into the sides of my face, pulling my blonde hair back. I've clearly been looking very troubled. Oh, dammit.....She's gonna ask if I'm okay, because I'm clearly not. She's pitying me. I managed to muster up a nervous nod of the head and a mumbled acknowledgment of her presence.

"I'm so sorry to bother you. I'm not usually this lame.....Ugh, who am I kidding? Of course I am. I'm useless at this." She lets out the cutest little chuckle I've ever heard.

"Hi." She sets her cup down, sits down across from me, and holds out a hand. She has the warmest, kindest smile. "I'm Haley."