Every Thursday morning I packed up my laptop, headphones, notebook and headed off to the coffee bar down the street from my apartment. I didn't start work till after lunch on Thursdays so this once a week ritual gave me time to work on the courses for my Master's degree and my roommate a breather from me. There were so many coffee bars close to my apartment but this was the one I always chose to go to.
It was not because of their coffee. To be honest, the coffee was pretty mediocre. Perhaps, I continued going there because I didn't like changing my routine too much. Perhaps, it was because their chairs were comfortable.
It would be silly to assume that I was there every Thursday morning for the medium height, dark eyed barista with the dark curly hair and unshaven face. The one whose name tag read "Gilles" and who happened to speak with this crazy, to-die-for French accent. There was a slight possibility that I go to that particular coffee bar so I could take peeks at him while trying not to be too obvious about it. Just a very slight possibility.
First, let me be clear, I was not a stalker.
I didn't know where he lived nor did I follow him around.
I was simply attracted to him and love how his capable hands were able to make coffee art in my cup.
The coffee might not be great, but the art he made in the foam, ooh-la-la!
Most times, I peeked at his reverse image on my laptop screen while working. And when I felt brave enough, I took real peeks at him.
Today was no different. I walked through the glass door as the bell above it sounded. The barista looked up and our eyes locked. I quickly averted my gaze pretending to scan the room for an empty table and fortunately found one. Placing my book bag on top of the table, I made my way to the counter to place my order. It was really difficult to know where to look as for some strange reason, my eyes kept wanting to stare at him and as a result, I had to try to keep my gaze averted while not being obvious about it.
He smiled when I got to the counter and said hello in that beautiful French accent. I managed a half smile while almost stuttering out my order. It was always the same and before I finished, he finished it for me and said, "I know your order by memory".
Seriously? He knew my order by memory. Was he simply being nice or was there something more? I simply smiled as he said he would bring my order to the table, then paid at the till before walking back to my table.
"Ah, here you go, mademoiselle," he said as he brought my order of croissant with cheese and a large latte. I looked at the foam and smiled when I saw several floating hearts with stars around them.
"Thank you," I said, my voice sounding strangely like a croak.
"Do you like the art?" he asked, smiling.
I noticed how the corners of his lips crinkled up and how kind he looked.
"Yes, I do", I replied. "I always do," I added smiling back.
"I'm glad," he simply said as he went back to his post.
I was overthinking again. He was just being kind. Nevertheless, he was still a good reason to keep coming to this coffee bar. I sighed and started working on my laptop. An hour later, I straightened my back, rolled my shoulders and looked up.
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And that's when I saw him looking right at me and then attempting to avert his gaze.
Merely a coincidence, I convinced myself and resumed working.
The next time I stretched my arms to the side and looked up, I caught him looking straight at me again and I could feel my cheeks and neck getting hot. This time, he walked towards me carrying a small cup which he placed right before me.
It was a latte, and drawn into the foam was a single heart and an arrow through it.
"Will you go on a date with me?" he asked in that irresistible French accent and with that crinkly smile.
I guess I would have to say yes. Saying no would simply be unthinkable.