But After All, Does It Matter?

“What I think is that you should really stop being such a pussy and talk to him about it,” Ray says, taking a sip of his coffee. I kick him under the table, making sure it hurt enough for him to understand the hint.

“Would you be so kind to shut the fuck up, please?” I hiss at him and he laughs, throwing his head back.

“Chill man, I was just joking,”

“Can your jokes be funnier then?”

“Lighten up, my sense of humour is great,” his lips are parted in a proud, sickening smile. If he wasn’t my best friend I’d probably rip his artery out with my teeth.

“Suuuure,” I drag the vowel out on purpose, wrinkling my nose.

“Go get yourself another coffee, I know you wanna talk to him,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

“No way,”

No way I am going to approach that angel, in his eyes I already look stupid enough.

“Yes way,” Ray retorts, grabbing my cup out of my hands.

“You’re an asshole,” I whisper, pushing my chair away from the table and standing up.

“No, I’m helping you fix your relationship,”

“I don’t need your help, plus there was never a relationship,”

“Yeah? Well, why were you crying when she told you it was over?”

“Allergies, you know how they are,”

“Frank, I’ve known you since you were ten, you don’t have any allergies,”

That’s true, I really don’t have any allergies. I really did cry back then, and it was no pretty. But since the day Cathy broke up with me, I got more mature and I can most definitely survive on my own now. Now that I think back to it, Cathy was actually a heartless bitch and a whore, and her only advantage were her good looks. She literally dated everyone in our grade, and then ditched them just for fun, too bad I realized it so late. She taught me a lesson though- never get too close to anyone, keep your emotions to yourself because nothing in the world lasts.

I literally thought I was going to marry her one day, it was ridiculous.

I don’t reply to Ray, but just silently make my way to the counter. What’s the worst that could happen if I made a small conversation? It’s just talking, it’s not like I’m going to jump over the counter and dry hump him. And even if I was- I can always find another Starbucks to go to, it’s not a problem. Or I can just make coffee at home.

There he is, behind the coffee machine. His black hair is falling on his pale face, partially hiding it from view. I wonder how much time he spends outside- probably none, because he’s as white as flour. From his concentrated expression you could think that pouring a latte into a cup is the most important job there is, as if the whole world and lives of billions of people depend on it. A tip of his tongue is sticking out from the corner of his mouth, and his adam’s apple is slightly vibrating. He’s probably humming a song, but you can’t really hear anything because of the loud customers.

He is the reason I have insomnia, and he is the cause of the dark circles under my eyes.

It’s not because I think about him all night long, no. The thing is that for the last three and a half months I’ve been coming here every night at exactly ten PM and drinking an americano- he works the night shift, and this is the only time I get to see him. No, I absolutely cannot get a tea or something with less caffeine in it, like a frappucino- he might think I’m some kind of a wimp who can’t handle a good black coffee.

Only americano. Only hardcore.

And no sugar, of course.

I don’t notice how quickly the line passes, and all of the sudden his voice pulls out of my thoughts.

“Um, so what did you want?” he asks and I stare at him, trying to find my words. He is leaning against the counter, his arms folded and rested on the surface in front of him. He raises an eyebrow and the corner of his pale lips twitches slightly. God, him laughing at me is the last thing right now.

“Americano, please,” I reply, trying my best not to stutter and somehow succeed. His lip twitches once again, this time revealing his teeth for a split second.

“Are you sure? You’ve been coming here every evening for several months and you get a black coffee every time. When do you get sleep?”

“Actually, yes, can I have a green tea?” I give in, a boulder dropping off my heart. I really didn’t want to drink that coffee- it would be good to have one night of sleep after.

He puffs and turns around, picking a teacup from the shelf.

Okay, now it’s my move.

“So,” I start, collecting all my quickly crumbling self esteem together. I can’t go back now.
“So is your name Gerard or Nicolas?”

This is a horrible question to start a conversation with, especially if you are trying to talk to an object of your obsession, but I just couldn’t think of anything else. From what I saw, he has two aprons- one with the name tag “Nicolas” on it and another one with “Gerard”. He hardly ever wears the Nicolas one though, so I just automatically called him Gerard in my mind.

He turns around, his eyes sparkling with interest. He brushes a strand of hair out of his face and tucks it behind his ear. I can’t help but think he looks extremely girly and feminine when he does that, and that’s just another thing I like about him.

“It’s Gerard,” he says. “You are observant, am I right? You notice small things that other people wouldn’t pay attention to,”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” I reply shyly. No Gerard, the only reason I paid any attention is because it’s you.

“Want me to give you a test while the tea is brewing?”

What?

“Um, sure?”

“Okay, tell me your name first,” he asks, propping his head in his hands as he leans against the counter.

“It’s Frank,”

He pauses for a moment, processing.

“Okay Frank, what was the original price for caramel frappucino before we changed it a week ago?”

“$3.75”, I reply quickly. I remember it clearly because the last time I got a frap, I was coming home from a party completely broke, and I had exactly $2.75, just one dollar under the price.

“You’re good,” he compliments and my cheeks redden up.

“Thank you,”

“So you come here every evening, huh?” he asks.

“Yeah, I live just two blocks away,” I have no idea why I am telling him all this, it’s almost like he’s sucking the information out of me without my consent.

“Wanna hang out some time?” he suddenly proposes and I almost drop my wallet. This is the last thing I expected to be honest. After all the three and a half months of hard work, coming here every night, he finally notices me!

“Sure,” I smile.

“I know a great place where we could go,” he continues, his eyes not leaving me.

“That’s great,”

“So can you just come here at the same time tomorrow? I can cancel my shift, I’ve been working for four months with no weekends,”

“So, 10 PM here?”

“Yeah,” he says, passing me the cup of tea and I nervously take it from his hands.

“Thank you,” I start walking back to my table, my head dizzy with excitement and my heart booming in my ears.

“See ya, Frank,” the somewhat croaky voice rings behind me.

Notes

So, a new story...

Tell me what you guys think about it in the comments, I have so many great plans for this

gerard_needs_to_cheeeeeeeeelllllll