Welcome to Starbucks!

“Welcome to Starbucks!”
Patrick huffed quietly, groaning at the long line in front of him. There were at least ten people in line, and about seven people still waiting for their coffee. Of course this happened to him when he needed a coffee and a quiet place to write the most. Patrick readjusted the strap on his laptop case and decided that he could be patient and wait in line for a coffee. He had to have a coffee in order to finish the script he was writing for his movie, which had to be done by the next day.
The line began to move quickly, and finally Patrick was at the front.
The barista taking his order was a young guy, with black emo bangs (with a little bit of red in them) covering half of his face. His eyes were completely rimmed with eyeliner to try and cover bags from a lack of sleep.
“Welcome to Starbucks, can I take—hi there,” the barista said to Patrick, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Um..hi. Can I have a mocha cappuccino, three shots of espresso, extra foam?”
“Sure,” the barista said winking. He rang up the drink.
“So,” the barista began. “You come here often?”
“You should know; you work here.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I would’ve remembered you.”
This is ridiculous, Patrick thought to himself. Patrick had to admit, though, the guy was pretty cute.
“The drink’s on me” the guy said. “But you have to give me something in return.”
Oh God. “What?”
“Your phone number! Or I can just give you mine!”
Patrick was taken aback at the barista’s forwardness. The barista didn’t even know Patrick’s name.
“Oh…um…can we talk first or something?”
“Okay! I’m off work in fifteen minutes. What’s your name? I need it for the cup.”
“Patrick.”
The barista smiled as he scribbled Patrick on the cup. “I’m Pete, by the way.”
Patrick smiled and nodded. He felt very uncomfortable by Pete’s gaze, which he saw rove down from his eyes to his body and back up to his face.
“I can bring you your drink if you want me to.”
Patrick stumbled over his words a bit. “Um…y-y-yeah, sure, that’d b-be great.”
“Cool.”
Patrick muttered, “Excuse me” as he weaved through the group of people waiting for the drinks and sat down at a table near the window. What the hell had just happened? How did the guy know that Patrick was gay? Was it obvious, or did the guy just hit on everyone he thought was worth hitting on and hope for a positive response?
Patrick took out his laptop and powered it on. As he typed in his password, Pete came over with the coffee.
“Here you go, Patrick,” Pete giggled, holding the drink out for Patrick.
“Oh, thanks,” Patrick replied as he took the cup from Pete. Patrick looked down at the lidless drink into the coffee, and he saw that Pete had made a heart in the foam. Patrick blushed. He looked up to thank Pete, and possibly even say a flirty, witty response, but he was already gone. Patrick craned his neck to see behind the coffee machines, and he swore he saw Pete peeking out from the container of coffee beans.
Patrick drank his coffee and tried to work on his script, but all he could think about was the bubbly barista with the great ass, who hummed Colbie Caillat as he brewed coffee and drank whipped cream from the can when he thought no one was looking. Patrick had only written five lines of the last scene when Pete came over and sat in the chair across from him.
“Hey,” Pete said. Patrick hopped a bit.
“Oh, hey.”
“Watcha doin’?” Pete asked, tapping the top of the laptop screen with two black-lacquered fingers.
“Finishing up a script for my movie.”
“Ooh, a writer! Fancy. What’s your movie about?”
“Um, well, it’s kind of hard to explain. There’s a guy, and his girlfriend just cheated on him, so he goes out into the world to try to, um, find himself, I guess?”
“That sounds good. When will it be in theaters so I can watch for you at all the awards shows?”, a wide-eyed Pete questioned Patrick, being completely serious.
“Well, it’s probably going to be in a film festival or something, if I get lucky. It’s not like I’m writing for Paramount or anything,” Patrick mumbled in reply, blushing harder.
Pete traced the apple design on the back of Patrick’s Macbook. “I bet you’re a good writer, Mr…”
“Stump. Patrick Stump.”
Pete giggled again. “I love it! I’m Wentz, Pete Wentz. Agent double oh oh”
Patrick snorted, then covered his mouth in embarrassment.
“Did you just SNORT!?” Pete grinned as he tried to stifle a laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me, I can’t help it!”
“No, I’m not laughing AT you. I think it’s cute,” Pete whispered. Pete reached out a hand and stroked the hand covering Patrick’s mouth.
This was definitely one of the weirdest things that had happened to Patrick, but he was really enjoying it, mostly because no one ever really hit on him and flirted with him like this. Patrick thought he was too fat to be considered fuckable, or even dateable.
“Why are you doing this?” Patrick queried Pete.
“I think you’re cute and I want to date you.”
“How’d you know I was gay?”
Pete gave Patrick a knowing smile. “I work here, don’t I? You come in here all the time. You came with some guy the other week, William, I think he was. You held hands with him under the table.”
Wow, creepy much? “But why me though?” Patrick continued. “You’re skinny and tan and gorgeous, and I’m fat and pale and balding.”
“First off, you’re beautiful and totally hot, and second, you’re not like the other guys around here. You’re not a douche bag.”
“Actually, I kind of am.”
“Nu uh.”
“Yeah huh.”
“Hey,” Patrick began, changing the subject. “You never gave me your phone number!”
Pete looked around at Patrick and frowned. “Yes I did.”
“When?”
“Look on the cup!”
Patrick examined the sides of the cup and saw that Pete had written:
“So now that I’ve given you my heart, can I have yours?
773-555-0132”
“That’s so sweet, Pete.”
“Ah, it was nothin’."