14/50: The Tate.

“How you doin’?” asks Tate when I arrive at the Starbucks counter.

“Never better. How you doin’?” I wink at him, chagrined that I actually just winked at HIM.

“When do I get to take you out on a date, Anya?” He pleads with big puppy dog eyes.

“Umm, when you figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life,” I say, while grabbing the venti coffee he has waiting for me.

‘I want to marry you,” he replies and winks back at me.

“In your dreams tough guy, see you next week” I reply and turn on my heel to head for the sugar and cream counter.

I try to maintain my cool, calm and collected vibe as my heart is pounding hard after I have turned my back on him. My hands are shaking as I tear through six packets of splenda and pour nonfat milk into my coffee. I can’t get his jade eyes and dark brown hair out of my thoughts. What is wrong with me?

I feel someone come up behind me, but don’t turn around. I can still feel my cheeks burning from my run in with THE Tate.

“I do want to go out with you, pretty woman,” he whispers behind me.

“Sure you do,” I reply without turning around and busy myself mixing my coffee, splenda and non-fat milk combo.

By the time I turn around, he is gone.

Table it for another time, woman, I say to myself and attempt to ignore the fact that I am completely crushing on a Starbucks cashier. No sense in even dabbling with that, I tell myself…you want someone who is career oriented, smart, funny – and someone who makes more than $12/hour. If that’s what he even makes at Starbucks. I shake my hair out like I’m shaking off my crazy thoughts and sending them back out to the universe. Universe can handle them better than me.



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