Dedicated to my terminally weird friend,
Shafiqah - for reminding me you can know one's name by looking at their Starbucks cup
{ sparklydusk }

"Celeste, please don't," I said as I clung to her arm and dug my feet onto the ground. She ignored my pleas and just dragged me into Starbucks.

The air was thick with the scent of coffee and although I drink in the aroma like everyone else, I would never hand over the chocolate chip frappochino in my hand for it.

Celeste leaned against the then empty bar and cleared her throat at the barista who had his back to her. He turned around and jumped back at the sudden appearance of a teenage girl with a determined look on her face.

"What would you like to have?" he said, his voice stiff and not entirely clear. It was obvious that he would rather speak in Malay than English as it is his native language. A glance at his nametag on his apron told his name was Hakim.

"The only thing I would like to have right now is the presence of you coworker, Stefan. I need to speak to him," Celeste said, in a stern voice.

The others snickered behind our backs. Only we knew Celeste is anything but stern. I'm surprised she could even pull a straight face right now.

Hakim blinked a few times before saying, "I'm sorry, miss but he isn't here. Any problem you have can be discussed with me."

Celeste frowned and murmured under her breath. "This guy is being difficult."

Brooke leaned forward and whispered something in Celeste's ear. Celeste nodded and said aloud, "You guys have crappy service. I want to see your manager. Right now."

I quickly interrupted her. "No need to get him trouble, Celeste. Leave the manager out of it. I'm sure Hakim here would help us with whatever is it you want."

Hakim nodded vigorously. "Look, adik," he said, his Malay slipping into the otherwise perfect English sentence. "I would help you however you can. Just listen to your friend and leave the manager out of this. She is in a very foul mood today and I don't want another paycut simply because she felt like making someone miserable."

Anne stepped forward and said, "Well, abang, we just need to talk to Stefan. Can you call him?"

"His shift ended few minutes ago and he already left for home. If it really is important, I could give you his number," Hakim said, clearly relieved that we are no longer making threats involving a most-probably grumpy manager.

Celeste grinned. "Now we are talking."

The nervous Malay boy grabbed a napkin and scribbled on a number. Handing it to Celeste, he said, "Whatever problem you have with him, I hope you would settle it in a non-violent way."

Anne took the napkin from Celeste's hands and turned to Hakim. Flashing him a feral smile, she asked, "Do I look like violent person to you?"

Hakim shook his head, sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Leave him be, Anne," Celeste said before turning to me. She held up the napkin with Skater Boy's number on it and said, "And that's how you get a guy's number."

"It doesn't matter whether we have his number or not. It's not like I'm planning to call him," I said, walking out of the famous cafe.

Preeti walked quickly until her stride matched mine. "Well, that doesn't mean we wouldn't call him for you."

"Well, what I do know is that Simon wouldn't be very happy to hear about his girlfriend going to extreme measures to get another guy's number," I said.

Preeti frowned but kept her mouth shut.

I felt bad for blackmailing her but we both knew I wouldn't really do that.

Them getting his number had been pointless. Never in a million years would I have gathered the courage to call him. That's the truth.