I’m not even sure if I’m blinking. Because now her hair is brushing my cheek, and she smells like some kind of vanilla-sugar-cookie-fucking-witchcraft, and I want to bury my face in her neck then get down between her?—
“Can I get a brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso?” she says, voice all sweet and polite as she settles back in her seat. “Grande. But in a venti cup with extra ice.”
“Anything else?” I ask, eyes on her mouth. Wondering what she’d do if I leaned over and planted one on her.
“Nope.”
Okay. Cool.
I lean forward toward the speaker as the barista inside says I can give her my order whenever I’m ready and clear my throat.
“Yeah. Hi. Can I get a brown oat. Uh.”
I forgot.
Poppy bites her lip, her eyes twinkling. “Brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso.”
“Oat milk shaken espresso,” I yell at the speaker as if I’ve never been through a goddamn drive-through before.
“Brown sugar. Grande,” Poppy whispers, still brushing against me. “But in a venti cup. Extra ice.”
Right. “But in a venti cup with ice,” I shout.
I’m such an idiot.
If her order is correct it will be a bloody miracle.
The speaker crackles with a long, heavy pause. “Got it!” the cheery voice tells me. “Anything else we can get for you today?”
Maybe I should get something, too—strictly so I have something to do with myself other than stare at her bare fucking legs.
But my brain blanks.What do I drink?Water? Air? Protein shakes with gravel in them?
“Uh…” I scramble, eyes darting to Poppy like she’s got the answer to a test I forgot to study for. “I’ll get the same thing she got.”
Poppy blinks at me, eyebrows shooting up. “You want a brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso?”
“Yup,” I say, as if this is a perfectly normal decision for me. “In a venti cup. Extra ice.”
Then my roommate leans over farther. “Can you draw a smiling face and heart on his? He loves a cute doodle!” she yells with a giggle, as if she said the funniest thing.
“Got it.” The speaker crackles some more before the voice says, “Two venti brown sugar oat milk shaken espressos with extra ice. Your total is $14.90. See you at the window!”
Right.
I pull forward, the truck lurching like I just learned how to drive five seconds ago, easing around the tight corner while praying I don’t scratch the paint job on the cement retaining wall on the path leading to the window.
Poppy leans back against the passenger seat, sighing on a giggle.
“You know what this reminded me of? A caveman ordering at Starbucks for the first time. You’re like a bear wandering into a coffee shop from the woods and trying to order a treat.”
I am insulted.
At the window, I pay (although my roomie offers) and take both drinks, handing Poppy hers—and putting mine in the cupholder.
“Have a great day!” the barista chirps, practically bouncing on her toes.
Poppy waves at her from the passenger seat as we drive away.
