In some neighborhoods, the masses would call Wade schlubbish, but in this part of town, he looked borderline dapper. He attributed the young chicana's friendly smiles and name-recognition (not that Wade was ubercommon) to a real appeal that he'd just found out she truly did not have for him. What the fuck? he thought. Since when do I get the Hooters treatment at Starbucks?
For about eight months he'd planned his thrice-weekly trips to 'Strbx' (blackberry-ized spelling, more will come...) based on what days Allia the Smiling Barista was working, and for eight months he'd kept the banter professional with no hint of flirtatiousness, but always just a touch of charm. He'd always had rough luck with ladies, so know that he never just goes for it. He waits it out. And it never pays off.
~flashback: 5 minutes ago~
After ordering his nonfat Cinnamon Dolce latte (iced), Wade casually strolls over to the barista station, where the bubbly, cute, and certainly college-aged barista Allia is all smiles and espresso shots.
Wade awkwardly tries leaning against the counter, self-conscious of not trying to look too interested, but also making sure he has center stage for any forthcoming banter with "his" latte-designer.
ALLIA: Hey Wade!
WADE: Hey. (I'm more established in the community and higher up the social ladder than her...she's cuter.)
ALLIA: Having a good morning?
WADE: Not too bad. Didn't see you here last Tuesday, I had to settle for Coffee Bean.
She smiles, slightly confused.
WADE: I don't really trust your co-workers to make my latte to my liking. (Alliteration makes me sound flamboyant) So I just went to Coffee Bean fully aware I wouldn't enjoy my drink.
She giggles.
WADE: Hey, I hate to break the code of conduct we've maintained thusfar, but...I think you're really cute and maybe sometime we could see eachother somewhere other than here.
Customers crowding around Wade for their drinks can't help but notice his subdued attempts at picking this chick up. Wade, already uncomfortable, becomes even moreso.
ALLIA: I can't date a customer, Wade, even one as nice as you.
WADE: Is it because I don't tip?
ALLIA: You do tip.
WADE: I know...I just...I wanted to remind you. (This is going poorly, abort! Abort!!!)
ALLIA: Sorry sweetie. Let's just be latte friends.
She hands him his drink. (Wade: she didn't even give me a fucking straw!)
WADE: (Chalk up another in the Loss column) Have a fantastic day, Allia. (You spickish fool...no, she's savvy, she knows better than to tangle with this dangle...fuck.)
~back to: Commonwealth Ave...midday~
Taking little (but some) comfort in having at least broken the barrier, Wade picked up his pace walking to the T-station, trying not to picture the mouth-fucking and tanned-ass spanking he'd have liked to engage in with Allia, but not minding the warmth in his southern regions. He fancied it helped his posture when his cock was leading the way.
Being in Boston, and being Irish, Wade would make his way to one of his local haunts where they served a good selection of beer. He was certain he needed one, but there may have been another force calling him to the well that night...depression and self-pity are trumped by fate, time after time. In fact, it's a damn good thing for everyone that Allia wasn't diggin' the 30-year old's vibe.
NEXT
Chapter 1 : Franklin
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