Every barista has their favorite customer. My manager Katie, for example, pretty much drops everything when Jim comes in. He's a WWII vet, sweet as can be, who comes in every day with his service dog, Rex. She never makes him pay for a coffee, but he tips way more than his iced coffee costs. Rodney, my favorite coworker, loves him some Gina. Gina is a MILF mom of three who comes in every Wednesday to get her "hump day fix" as she always says with a giggle. I can only imagine what's running through Rodney's adolescent mind when she says the word "hump" while leaning out the window to grab her frappe out of his hands, her melon tits hanging over the door. Rodney is convinced she parks farther away from the window than most people would for the purpose of having to lean out farther, giving the barista a better glimpse of her knockers. There's a good chance he's right, too. It wouldn't be the first time a barista romance sparked with a customer. Of course, I haven't been so lucky...yet.
Jim and Gina are nice enough, but my favorite customer happens to be a 6 '3 hunk of holy-fuck-hotness named, wait for it, Noah.
I first noticed him on a Wednesday at 1pm, a time when the coffee shop is usually empty. During that time, I like to do the chores customers generally get in the way of when the cafe is more busy. The first time he came in I was sweeping and didn't notice him. He must have kept his head down the whole time he was ordering his coffee and walking to his table, or else I would have seen how gorgeous he is. But Noah is unassuming like that. About every other day in the middle of the afternoon, he orders one cappuccino with extra foam, situates himself by the window and works on his computer for approximately two hours before heading off on his motorcycle. That surprised me at first. He didn't strike me as the motorcycle type, but then again, what do I know about him besides that his curly hair absolutely devastates me and that the one time I got a good look into his azure eyes while wiping up his spilled water, I was too stunned to speak sensibly. I wiped up the water in silence and managed to awkwardly smile when he thanked me for his help.
I probably seem like an obsessed psycho, but I swear, sometimes I can feel him looking at me when I'm going around the shop wiping down the windows. It's always so still and empty when he's there, meaning, no outside stimulation to distract me from the sexual tension in the air. I'm 98% sure it's one-sided. Most of the time, when he comes in, my ponytail is completely disheveled and I haven't bothered to put makeup on, though admittedly, I do put more effort into my appearances on the days when I know he's coming in.
But.
There is still that 'but' that keeps me guessing and blushing anytime he smiles at me like a normal polite human. Maybe it's because sometimes I can see him staring at my ass in the window reflection as I'm wiping them down. I'm not naive enough to think I don't have a nice butt. It's not large by any means but thanks to years of softball, it's perky and toned. Of course he's going to look every now and then. What man wouldn't? He must be a gentlemen though, cause I've never once caught him staring, though there was this time I turned around after seeing him look at me in the reflection that our eyes met, and he smiled. Not his normal, "good afternoon" smile. More like a, "there's something here, but I'm too shy to say what," smile.
Every Wednesday, Friday and Monday at 1pm, I wonder what Noah is thinking. What's he doing on that computer and where does he ride off to on his motorcycle? Does he think I'm pretty? Have naughty thoughts run through his mind when he's staring at my backside as I stand on my tippy toes to clean the top of the glass door? Something inside me says "yes." But the more sensible part of me says to stay away.
He's too put together to start something with his local barista. He could be married for all I know, I need to drop it. But last time he came in, our hands brushed when I set his coffee down in front of him, and ten minutes later when I emerged from the bathroom after rubbing one out, I realized that this obsession of mine isn't going away anytime soon. I've got to find out if he's into me or not, so I can find a new someone to fantasize about when escaping to the bathroom stall to masturbate on my break.
Cue Friday, February 14th.
Usually, I'm not the type who's salty about being single. But I haven't been laid in months, and there seem to be no prospects on the horizon. With it being Valentine's Day and everyone discussing their plans with their partners for the evening, I can't help but wish the day would just be over with already.
"Hey Rebekah," Rodney's hand brushes the small of my back as he walks by. "You aren't going to believe this. Gina gave me her number today. I'm seeing her tonight. In secret."
"No WAY." I give him a high five and then lower my voice when the couple of customers remaining in the shop, including Noah, glance up from their computers to see what the fuss is about. "That's awesome, dude." I whisper and keep aimlessly wiping down counters to look busy. It's 5pm, and we close in three hours. I know it's going to be dead all night.
"Yeah, it sure is. So hey...I hope you don't mind but I was kind of hoping you wouldn't mind closing alone tonight."
