WARNING: Book ahead is pretty cliche and my first work on here. It's got plot holes and a main character you might want to beat with a stick. Be gentle lol
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In the technological world in which we live, most teens start their love lives thro...
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The day was Friday and Evan had been enrolled in my school for several days. Safe to say, the rest of the week went fairly well. Despite Shelby's frightening antics when they had first met, Shelby and Evan seemed to click instantly. Both of them were chatter boxes and it provided some great entertainment for me. Sure, the two were pretty different and had opposite personalities and their opinions were like night and day on most matters. But they got along so well.
It made me smile that Shelby finally had somebody to talk to as a friend that had as much of a motor mouth as she did. Shelby viewed me as her best friend, this I knew. But I couldn't keep up. She needed someone who could.
And boy, did Evan know how to keep up! Shelby switched topics at lightening speed, as always, jumping from pantyhose to clowns to where Waldo is really at and why he insists on hiding. He matched her pace and gave her plenty of time for a debate. The two went round after round after round. By the time lunch ended, my energy supply had been exhausted just from watching the two.
All in all, the week went rather well. Having a new person to interact with felt like a breath of fresh air.
Maybe I should make friends more often ...
Hah, like that would happen.
So now, there I stood, in the local coffee shop where I worked every other day, wearing my powder blue apron with our symbol on it. A coffee cup with a spoon in it. Cause we're that clever, yo. About as clever as our name, Creamy Dream. I suppose they derived that from the creamer one dumps into their coffee. They could be referring to the fact we have delicious coconut cream pie. Or maybe they just took a shot in the dark with it and didn't mean anything by it, therefore making my internal debate pointless.
It's good to be alive.
When I first arrived, the store seemed to be nothing but a mad dash for everyone in town. We (as in my fellow workers and I) had been on our feet for what felt like decades, rushing orders to tables and to the pick up counter. And most of the customers weren't exactly friendly. Surprise, right? This is what I get for being responsible and getting a job - aggressive and impatient people lining up in front of me and tapping their feet on the floor, 'quietly' saying that that our customer service lacked greatly.
But at that particular point in time, the shop had almost no people in it. A few people were scattered among the tables, doing their own thing. A hipster chick with purple dip-dyed hair and a beanie sat with her laptop in the far corner.
A business-like man had a newspaper opened up in front of him, his salt and pepper mustache twitching back and forth like you would see in cartoons. It took a lot of effort to not just stare at him and watch the small action.
And last, but not least, a woman in her early thirties with a romance novel in her hands, a smile on her face and a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of her.
