What a crappy ing day.

I walked into Starbucks, my own little dark cloud over my head. I stalked to the counter after dropping my damp bag and books on an empty table. The universe decided to give me the worst day in the history of me today. First, I woke up to my cat’s mess on the living room. Rupert had fished the aquarium again, and this time, he had succeeded on completely toppling over the bowl and eating the fish, restoring for the newly bought carpet I bought just last week to be drenched in fish water and covered in mossy pebbles. Amazing, right? Secondly, I had to clean up the mess my devil cat had made which meant I had to be late for school. When I did get to school, half an hour late, tumbling to our building, the infamous professor had just sent a group message that the classes were to be held on the building opposite of where I was. So that resulted to me being twenty minutes late to his class because I had to run to the opposite building, across the road. Now, after 6 hours of straight lectures and constant tummy growling, the weather decided to up my day even more with a slight drizzle while I was out walking. And when I mean “slight drizzle” I mean it was typically raining dogs and cats. And I’ve read enough books to know not to dare ask the universe what else could ever go wrong.

“Hi! Good afternoon!” A bright smile from the counter chirped. I was looking down, locating Abel, my Starbucks Card. I reached the counter, still not greeting the cashier before finding my card and tossing it on the counter.

“Hi, yeah, can you please check how—” I was cut short by the person behind the counter. A tall, slim figure smiled back at me handsomely, holding a pen between his fingers.

“The balance?” He smiled. His smile was so bright, it made me feel lighter and less burdened almost completely. “On your card?”

I nodded, speechless. All of the words in my vocabulary washed out by his features. His jet black hair brushed carelessly up, away from his face, almost looking like bed hair. His face was bright and happy, like the sun glowed through his golden skin. He looked divine standing in his black polo shirt and green apron. He smiled at me once more before blinking then taking my card and swiping it on the machine. He leaned on one foot and draped his wrist over a part of the machine. His big hand hung, relaxed. I looked at his fingers. They looked so elegant relaxed like that; like pianist’s fingers, sculpted to slender, long stately perfection by years and years of practice and learning. Then he spoke up, I was so focused on his godlike features that I almost forgot his voice.

“There are currently,” he neared his face to the monitor. His thick, beautiful eyebrows scrunched together, his eyes squinting, creating little crescent shapes as he read. “Seven hundred fifteen pesos in your account and fifteen points,”

His warm velvety voice filled my ears. His voice wasn’t so husky that it was borderline bed voice but it was husky enough to make my lips feel dry and my breath falter slightly. He cleared his throat, one of his elegant hands coming to his mouth, formed into a fist to cover it. “So what will you get?”

I blinked. Oh right. “Oh-” I jumped a little, remembering that I was in public, probably eye this harmless barista in front of me shamelessly. I nodded and told him my order.

“Anything for lunch, maybe?” A boyish smile played on his lips he nodded to the food display and I shook my head.

“No thank you.” I let out a nervous chuckle. He chuckled too and continued to punch in my order. His fingers were arched clicking swiftly on the buttons on the cash register, his other hand was holding the pen on the counter. I watched as he used his hand to spin the pen effortlessly.

“Thank you. This is your receipt,” he handed me a freshly torn smooth paper, “and…” he clicked a few more buttons then took my card out of the card slot then tore off another piece of smooth paper from the cash register, “And your card. Just present your receipt to me later, alright?” He then used his right hand to gesture to the coffee making area. I nodded and followed, the counter in between us.

While he was making my drink I tried to peek at how he was doing it. It wasn’t because I haven’t seen my drink get done before. In fact, I’ve seen my drink get done hundreds of times by different baristas in different branches, but this branch was my favorite since it was near to my school.

I wanted to see how he made my drink because I was still wanting to see his hands. His hands were lovely, working. I stood there, watching him silently as he shook the can of whipped cream then clenched his hand, straining itself to top whipped cream on my green tea frappe. He then reached for a plastic cover and soundlessly placed it on the venti cup.

“No school today?” A voice from the counter called out. Starbucks was completely empty aside from me and a group of quiet teenagers that decided to take their quietness upstairs. A total of eight people, not including the baristas and the guard.

I looked up from my laptop to see the barista from earlier smiling at me and another one, writing something on a record book. The one who made my drink was taller then the one writing on the record book.

“Um,” I pushed down the monitor of the laptop halfway and shook me head at him. “Um not yet. School starts in two more weeks.”

He nodded, his pink lips forming into a small ‘o’. “Where are you going to?”

I told him the university just near here. I completely closed my laptop and put it aside. I figured he wanted to talk more and it’d be rude to have my laptop open while we were conversing.

“What course?”

I shrugged, telling him. I hope he doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

“Oh. Cool, my friend’s taking that course.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. He’s in his third year,” he leaned on one foot and draped his wrist over the cash register like he did earlier. “Says it’s hell.”

I groaned. “Thanks.” He chuckled at me.

“You’ll be fine. Almost everyone who’s stayed here, in this branch, has never failed their courses. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

I sighed and gave him a look. “Really?”

“What.” He grinned. His grin was infectious. I felt my cheeks warm up whilst it lifted, me having a grin of my own.

“That’s impressive,” I nodded, “But scary.”

“Scary?” He tilted his head to one side, making his hair tilt too, making him look even more adorable than he already was. “Why ‘scary’?

“Scary because the more people passing, the harder the competition.” It was true. Right now, I was in the competition. I was in the game and I had many players competing against me. This was my definition of school, studying.

“Hmm,” he looked past the glass walls, outside, for a second or two then back to me. His eyebrows were scrunched together. “Wow…that is scary.”

I nodded, staring at nothing in particular. “Exactly. School’s competitive as heck.”

“Tell me about it.” He laughed. “So have you gotten your books yet? Everything?”

“Yeah.” I sat up properly, putting my right leg and thigh over the other. “Notebooks, books, pens; the whole lot.”

“Nice. Excited for school?”

“More like anxious.” I nervously laughed, rubbing my hands together. It was getting cold.

“You’ll be fine.” He laughed again. He seemed to make everything seem brighter and less devastating. When he said it, I almost believed him.