Day 1: Write a scene that takes place in a coffee shop.

"All right! Everybody down! No talking! Cells away! Don't move! Listen to us, and nobody gets hurt!" someone suddenly shouted, causing me to dully glance up from my computer screen. It sounded like one of those cheesy lines that bank robbers used in cop shows with their hostages.

Taking a leisurely sip of my tea, I looked around the coffee shop, noticing that everyone who had been standing in line was now crouched close to the ground. A woman who was nursing her baby looked terrified, as if she was about to be kidnapped or worse. I wasn't entirely sure what all the commotion was about, until I spotted them.

Standing with intimidating guns in their hands were four guys in ski masks. Of all the things to cover their faces, they had chosen ski masks. Typical. Why not Obama masks? At least those were creative. They were all wearing normal clothes like the rest of the patrons here, but it didn't appear as though they were just stopping in for an apple strudel or cup of coffee. In fact, it appeared as though these idiots were attempting to rob the place. Personally, I thought that a bank with, like, actual money made more sense, but if these criminals wanted to rob an independent coffee shop, then by all means, do that. At least it was more creative than the ski masks. 

I was tempted to tweet the situation, sharing it with my network of followers and friends, but sought against it, for I always preferred living in real-time, rather than through technology. Tearing off a piece of my fattening brownie, I popped it into my mouth, and then took another swig of tea. I was kind of confused as to why everyone was freaking out. Like, these guys were robbing a freaking coffee shop...in ski masks. If they had any sense, then they would at least pick an overpriced place like Starbucks. 

"You!" one of the masked men abruptly called. It sounded as though he was heading in my direction, and judging by the heavy padding of footsteps, I had a hunch that he was. Unlike everyone else in here, though, I didn't start crying or curl up into a fetal position. I merely took another bite out of my brownie, washing it down with the hot tea. 

"Hi," I said back with a smile on my face.

"I said to get down!" the guy screamed. And then I stopped smiling. I knew that voice. There was no way that it could be him, but the world was a very small place, and I always did get the sense that instead of opening up a multi-million dollar website like he had the potential to do, that he would end up down the wrong path. But robbing a coffee shop? Really? He was a smart guy, but this move was stupid.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" I requested, wanting to make sure that my suspicions were correct.

"Get down!" he commanded. Yep. It was definitely him.

"Andrew? Andrew Keller?" I laughed, knowing exactly what I needed to do in order to both leave this situation alive and push all of his buttons simultaneously.

"What? No--that's--uh--what?" the masked dude fumbled, growing increasingly nervous and losing a good amount of his Mojo. Even if he was the one with the gun, he wasn't nearly as confident as he had been before he came over to me. Just goes to show: socializing with me can only end badly.

"Yeah, Andrew Keller! Long time no see!" I said, slowly shutting the screen of my laptop so that I had a better view of him. "How've you been?"

"Sa--" he paused, almost saying my name aloud. He knew who I was. Shocker. Shaking his head, he glared at me and then repeated the phrase that I was beginning to get annoyed with, "Get down, lady!"

"Lady?" I scoffed. "Really, Andrew? I thought that we were on a first name basis. Well, incase you've forgotten, I'm Sam. We went to high school together, remember?"

"Shut up!" he commanded in a gruff voice.

"Oh, Andrew!" I laughed, taking a bite of my brownie. It was probably alarming that I found the situation as enjoyable and humorous as I did. "You know that I can't do that!"

"I'm serious, Sam!" he said, using my name. "Shut up!"

"Why?" I snorted, gulping down some tea to cope with the thickness of the brownie. "Andrew, I was hoping that we could catch up! Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Sam, not right now!" he hissed.

"And why not?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"You do realize that you're currently a hostage, correct?" he sighed, giving up on the "tough guy" stance. There was the Andrew I knew!

"Well, that's one way of looking at it," I shrugged. "Personally, all I realize is that I'm having a nice chat with an old high school buddy of mine. So, Keller, how've you been?"

"AK!" barked another one of Andrew's ski mask buddies. AK. Ha. Clever. Because his name was Andrew Keller and it sounded kind of like the names of one of those guns. "Why is the blonde chick talking?"

"My name's Sam, actually," I told Andrew's colleague. 

"Shut her up already!" the guy instructed.

Andrew sighed, looking at me through the eyeslits in his dear ski mask. "Sam, shut up."

"Andrew!" I whined. "All I want to do is catch up! I haven't seen you in, what, two years? Just tell me what you've been up to!"

"Sam," he groaned, "please stop talking."

"Well, if you're not going to tell me about your life, then I guess I'll just have to tell you about mine," I smirked, knowing that I was about to tell him one hell of a good story. I always told good stories. He began to object, but then I cut him off, beginning my narrative. "You see, Andrew, after leaving high school and all that social stuff behind, I got to college, and discovered my true calling: interpretative dance."

"Your true calling is interpretive dance?" he deadpanned, not being able to resist the intrigue of my tale.

"No, it's actually journalism, but interpretive dance got your attention, didn't it?" I questioned. He merely nodded his head, not being able to argue. "Anyways, I got really into journalism and Brad--you remember Brad, don't you?"

"How could I forget a douche like him?" he snorted.

"Well, you see, once Brad realized that I wasn't exactly 'housewife material' like he thought, he dumped me," I paused, allowing that information to soak into Andrew's mind. It was definitely shocking to anyone who had ever even step foot in the same building as Brad and I--the It Couple. 

Brad was your average linebacker, but somehow outshown the quarterback and was at the peak of popularity all throughout his high school career. The boy wasn't really the smartest, but back then, neither was I. I thought he was cute, and he thought the same about me. Unlike in your typical high school love story, I wasn't a cheerleader. We didn't actually have a cheerleading program at our school due to budget cuts, and even if we did, I wouldn't have joined, but whatever. I was, however, popular. Like, people-cleared-the-hallway-to-let-me-pass popular. Brad asked me out when we were juniors, and then we happily dated for almost two years...until he discovered that I actually had a brain and ambitions. Yeah, he didn't really take too well to that plot twist. 

"Brad dumped you?" Andrew all but gasped.

"Yep," I nodded. "But don't worry, I moved on after about two minutes of mourning the loss of my high school boyfriend. It wasn't really that hard."

"So...you two broke up?" he assessed slowly. I had a hunch that I knew where this was going.

"AK!" the same guy from before yelled. "Tell her to shut up already!"

"Sorry!" Andrew apologized, staring at me, and then whispering, "Sam, please be quiet."

"I'll be quiet, if you tell me about your life," I offered. Andrew sighed, and then walked around the large round table that was dividing us, only to sit down beside me on the large window sill that had been made into a place for sitting. He wrapped an arm around my waist, and then pressed the back of his gun into my stomach.

"Sorry, Sam," he said in response to the object that was now jabbing into me. "I promise I won't shoot you."

"You better not, jackhole. Otherwise, if I die, then I'm going to haunt you nonstop," I threatened. "I'm talking in the shower, before you go to sleep, at every coffee shop that you try to rob or whatever--even when you're having sex, assuming you're not still a virgin."

"I'm not a virgin," he suddenly blurted out, probably just needing me to hear the words come out of his mouth.

"Whatever you say, Keller, whatever you say..." I trailed off, only half believing him. I mean, this was Andrew Keller I was talking to. The guy had once declined going to a party because--get this--he wanted to finish a term paper. He wasn't exactly the ugliest guy in the world (I'd hook up with him), but he wasn't the hottest, either. All through high school he had this quiet/nerdy persona, but sometimes he could be pretty funny, and somehow we were actually friends at a point...until he admitted that he loved me and things went south from there. Can anybody say "awkward"?

"I've had sex, and I'm not going to kill you, Sam," he sighed.

"Fine," I huffed, "then tell me what you've been up to."

"Well, I dropped out of college."

"I figured that much," I snorted.

"And then got involved with some pretty bad stuff."

"You don't say?"

"Sam, you are aware that you're still a hostage, right?" he questioned.

I nodded, moving my hand to where Andrew's gun was, and carefully inched it away from me. It would definitely be unfortunate if that thing went off while still touching me. Bye-bye, Sammy! Not really the ideal outcome to the situation. "Yeah," I finally answered him, "but I don't really care."

"Uh huh," he mumbled. "So, if you're not dating Brad..." Here it comes! The question! C'mon Andrew, do Mama Keller proud! "Are you, uh, single?" And there it was! BAM! Nice one, Andy!

"Andrew Keller!" I gasped in mock shock (ha, it rhymed). "Are you about to ask me out when you're supposed to be in the middle of robbing a coffee shop?"

"Well, uh..." he gulped.

"I'll tell you what," I began, already feeling like a hero, "if you tell your gang of ski masked men to get the hell out of here right now, then I'll kiss you."

"You'll kiss me?" his eyes grew wide with intrigue. "I don't believe you, Sam. There is no way in Hell that you'd ever kiss me."

"Oh, really?" I challenged with a smirk on my face. I so deserved a medal of honor or something for what I was about to. With the use of only a single finger, I managed to push up the bottom portion of his ski mask, exposing his pale face and lips. Damn, I was one good sumaritan. I tipped his chin towards mine, and I could see the anticipation in his eyes. Just like the quickness required to take off a band-aid, I pressed my lips to Andrew's, and felt him smiling against mine. He dropped his gun on his lap, and used both hands to take hold of my face. I allowed him to take the kiss to whatever length he wanted, because honestly, I didn't care and I was never going to see him again. Besides, it was the guy's high school fantasy to kiss me, so I might as well make the actual kiss live up to all its supposed hype. 

He ran a hand through my hair and pressed his tongue inside my mouth. Good ol' Andrew. Always keeping it PG-ish. I was in the mood to stop, but he was the one with the gun, so didn't dare break out of the kiss until Andrew was completely ready. And damn, that boy had a set of lungs on him! It felt like forever until he finally backed up, letting me breathe in the sacred and dusty air of the coffee shop.

"So, how was it?" I asked casually. Andrew couldn't keep his eyes off of me.

"More amazing than I could have ever hoped," he admitted. I didn't have the heart to tell him that on a scale of one to ten, he was a solid four when it came to kissing, but at least I was good, right? 

"Now, if you would so kindly tell your friends to leave, then that would be just dandy!" I said as he pulled his ski mask back down. 

"Uh, yeah, sure," he mumbled, standing up, but not before allowing his fingers to dance by my thigh and past my shoulder.

"AK! What's the issue now?" another one of the ski masked dudes asked in annoyance. 

"Guys, I heard a cop siren! We have to go!" Andrew said in a hurry.

"Shit!" one of them swore. "Okay, guys, let's get out of here!" 

Within seconds, all of the ski masked idiots had high-tailed their way out of the coffee shop, except for Andrew. That should've been the tagline when it came to Andrew Keller: "...except for Andrew." He was always the odd one out, never sticking to the rules or anything else, really. Deep inside, he was a good kid, but right now, I was just curious what had triggered his inner coffee shop robber. It was definitely an interesting career field to explore.

Andrew looked over to me, our eyes connecting. "Bye, Sam," he bid. "I'll miss you."

"Bye, Keller," I smiled, waving with two fingers as he exited the coffee shop, leaving it ski-masked-guy-less once and for all. Cautiously, everyone began to stand up from their previously crouched positions, and within minutes, everything seemed to go back to normal like nothing had ever happened. Baristas were giving out coffee and selling scones, and customers were buying stuff as fast as they could, wanting to get the hell out of the coffee shop. As for me, well, I just finished up my brownie and took another sip of tea, thinking about my friend Andrew. Andrew Keller...