“I actually wanted a mocha today.” Cleo flashed a smile. The barista looked awkward, and she became embarrassed, as though it was inappropriate of her to joke with him. Despite coming in at least three times a week for the past month, she was suddenly hugely aware that she still didn’t know anything about him, not even a name. Perhaps she was reading too much into him. Just because the café wasn’t busy when she was there, didn’t mean it was quiet all the time. He probably had lots of customers who knew him by name and chatted to him about his plans for the weekend, and what he thought of the latest film release. But every time she looked at him, she knew this wouldn’t be the case. The few times she had watched him interact with other customers, it was always very methodical and rigid; there was no warmth behind his actions.
The first time she had come into the café she had caught him looking at her with a strange expression. It gave her a bizarre feeling, one which had made her persistent in returning every day, in the hope that something would trigger a proper conversation between them, and she could decipher his intentions.
“I was only joking; the same as usual is fine, I was just…” her cheeks tinged pink. “I know I’m pretty boring to have the same thing every time. It’s just easier, I guess”
“You can’t like it that much, you never drink it all.” He seemed to regret speaking once he had finished.
She stifled a laugh, “I know. I’m not a huge coffee drinker,” she stopped, suddenly aware that she may have given her habit away, and he could find it strange. “It’s just I really like this place, and it’s the cheapest thing you do. I’m Cleo, by the way.”
“Yeah, I saw it on your notebook.” He suddenly began rearranging plates on the counter. Flattered at his attention, and unable to think of a response, Cleo waited for him to drop the change into her purse, picked up her coffee and walked back towards her replacement table.
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