It′s him again.

In all my years as a caffeine addict, I′d never met a barista as incompetent as Brandon. That′s what his tag read, handwritten above the word trainee. Maybe his spluttering and anxiety were warranted, then.

Except he didn′t seem anxious at all as he catered to Jill, a friend and intern at a law firm across the street. Surely my green tea wasn′t as complex as two mocha macchiatos, a mix of four caramel and hazelnut hot chocolates, three Americanos and a Popzel, whatever the hell that was.

Brandon offered Jill a kind smile as she listed the names of her co-workers, naming all ten cups quicker than he had mine, with better calligraphy, too. Really, was Regina Papadopoulos easier to spell out than Skye?

He swiped her Starbucks card, and I moved up the line, muttering a ″Hey″ to Jill as our eyes met. Pivoting in line, she mouthed, ″He′s cute″ as I stepped up to the cashier, to which I rolled my eyes in playful annoyance.

″I′ll have the green tea. Crème,″ I added, to spare us the ordeal. Brandon′s features contorted to resemble a meme I′d seen recently, but his expression transformed as soon as he looked up from the cash register.

″With what?″ he echoed lamely, as if my mere presence rendered him an invalid.

″Cream,″ I repeated.

″Green tea. With cream.″

I clicked my tongue impatiently. ″Yah.″

″But, it′s green tea.″ Disgust from Disney′s Inside Out couldn′t have looked more appalled.

I pursed my lips. ″It′s on the menu.″

″Oh, right. Sorry.″ He swallowed a lump in his throat. ″Grande?″

I nodded, mildly impressed that he had remembered my name as he initialled the plastic cup. We stood in awkward silence as I paid him the $5.45, watching him fumble with the cash register he had operated expertly just a minute before.

My order came up, and I forced a smile as I leant past Brandon to dispense a straw. ″Skye,″ he said abruptly, as I turned to leave. I glanced over my shoulder, catching him bite his lip. ″H－Have a nice day.″

An amused smile tugged at my lips. ″You too, Brandon.″

I turned my back on him and pushed past the doors that led out of the café, gritting my teeth to brace for the windchill that did nothing to soothe the burning of my cheeks.