The Way We Talk

This had to be my stupidest move all semester.

Waking up in time for class is hard enough. Waking up in time to dash over to Starbucks for coffee just takes the cake on this. I tap my foot impatiently as the Gelman baristas run around behind the counter, attempting to fill one hundred order at a time. It's the rush before first class, and I'm tucked myself neatly in the middle of the chaos. I check my cell phone again; I'm definitely going to be late. Awesomesauce.

An overworked Starbucks employee announces a non-fat triple Carmel Macchiatto, and I scurry over to my coffee. I take a careful sip than turn around to head to class.

Or not. I half-trip over my own two feet, and my cup goes flying, its contents over a boy, who, on second glance, is pretty cute. I swear inwardly and bound to the napkins. Grabbing far more than I need, I thrust them at my victim with an "ohmyGodI'msosorry".

Smooth, Saunders.

The boy laughs, whipping off his hoodie and dabbing the large wet spot with a handful of napkins. "It's okay; happens to the best of us," he responds a bit too cheerfully, for someone who got hot coffee dumped on their front, "Let's get you another coffee, on me."

I stare at the stranger incredulously. "You're buying me a coffee after I just accidentally attacked you with mine?"

He nods, signally an employee. "Hey Cara, can you get my friend another," he pauses to check my cup, "3 shot skim-milk CM, whatever that means? I'm kind of wearing hers right now."

The girl grins at him and nods, "Of course, Christian, but you owe me those geology notes."

Christian smiles at Cara, who has begun remaking my coffee with a coy smile on her face, then he leans over to grab a cup from another nearby barista. I thank him for being so cool about it, to which he responds, "No problem," the exits the Starbucks.

I check my cellphone again. 8:04. I'm never going to be on time to University Writing; it's official.

--

"Katy, do I have a neon sign above my head that says 'if you are remotely cute, please allow me to make an ass of myself in front of you'?" I ask, adjusting my cellphone in its nook between my ear and shoulder.

I hear my best friend sigh through the phone. "You're ridiculous, you know that. There's nothing you could have done to avoid it, and he didn't freak out at you. Ric, what's to fuss over?"

I consider her point as I lean back in my desk chair, contemplating an apt, new Facebook status. I'm doubting that something like "hey christian, sorry for dumping my coffee on you, ps you're mega cute" was a wise decision. Plus, I didn't even know his last name, nor did he know my first. "With my luck, I'll never see him again. It's a big enough school that it could happen."

"See, it doesn't matter what he thinks. If something were to happen, awesome. But if not, you're still fabulous, Erica."

Thank you Miss Katrina for the pep-talk, I quickly type in a random lyric from an All Time Low song and call it good. I frown as my newsfeed rearranges itself.

Dave Veilleux is in a relationship with Mara Woodson

"Apparently, Dave's found his latest victim," I note dryly, picking at my chipped manicure.

This piques my best friend's attention. "Who is it this time?" Katrina responds with slightly more enthusiasm with me, though more out of curiosity than genuine interest in Dave's romantic affairs.

"Mara."

"Woodson?" She inquires, and I'm sure if she were here, I would see the side of her lip curl up in contempt. "What is it with that boy and going after the freshman? Though, I guess now she's a sophomore."

I chuckle at this. "Still doesn't make it better; the age difference is still the same."

"He's going to destroy her."

I pause Facebook-stalking her - how typical psycho ex-girlfriend of me - and sigh. "He always does," I add somewhat bitterly, puffing out the side of my mouth.

If it wasn't clear, Dave and I went out. At this point, I pretend like I never associated with him in the first place, but he has a habit of coming up in conversation.

You know, it's not my fault that he spends his life on Facebook nowadays.

"So," Katrina breaks the silence enthusiastically, "Any other prospects on the horizon?"

I shake my head, even though she can't see me. "Not really. Nothing's happened with Soc-Boy. He's probably gay or something."

Katy responds with a sing-song hum of approval. "You said he's in theater- it happens like that a lot."

I hear the click of the door opening, and turn my head. "Hey Sammy," I greet my roommate, then turn back to my computer screen. "Any luck with Jared?"

"Oh," she pipes up, "That's what I forgot to tell you amid all this coffee boy madness."

"What?" I inquire, tappin a finger on my keyboard while staring at the blank box on Twitter.

"He's going out with Sierra now."

I pause mid-tweet. "The fifteen-year-old you told me about?"

There is a hint of bitterness in her chuckle. "The one, the only."

"We need to stop falling for boys who fall for underage girls," I note, then type that to my Twitter. I ignore the obvious fact that Dave has a Twitter and will most likely pick up in my none too subtle dig at his new relationship status.

She giggles. "Amen to that one."

She soon excuses herself to start on her homework, and I pull out my Sociology reading. So is the life of a college student.