Slow coffee shops will eventually be the death of me, honestly. Here I've been for the past five minutes in line at Starbucks. I'm next, but I can tell that the woman in front of me has never been here before. Damn tourists, I swear.
I look down at my feet and wonder to myself why I didn't just go to my friend Jack's shop this morning like I usually do, but then remember that I'm late for class. I'm an art student, currently studying in New York City. Original, right?
I looked around the shop at the brown walls, and green tables. Soft jazz music was flowing in the background and it smelled of coffee. I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe in. It just didn't smell the same though.
"Miss, you gonna order or what?" the worker asked me. She was pissed.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry. Um, I'll just have-" I stated to answer, but I felt myself being pulled away. Some young guy about my age was physically dragging me out of Starbucks. I did the normal thing to do when being kidnapped and started to yell.
"Shh! I'm not here to hurt you! I just have a question," the guy said. He looked genuinely apologetic, and I instantly felt bad for reacting so harshly. He continued, "If you could name a band anything you wanted, what would it be?"
He dragged me out of Starbucks for this? Ridiculous! I should smack him. But instead I settled down and really thought about the question. I looked at my "new friend." I'm guessing he is about twenty, which is one year older than myself. His skin has a slight tan that's obviously left over from the hot summer, with today being the last day of August. His hair was in a Cincinnati Reds Snap back hat with his a-little-on-the-long side bangs sweeping his forehead. His bright aqua-blue colored eyes clashed with his black hair.
His clothes were definitely that of a band member and consisted of black band tee with red lettering and his arms were strewn with various bracelets. His dark wash skinny jeans looked worn, and he paired them with black TOMS. He's thin, but obviously very muscular and roughly six foot, four inches tall with five-eights Superman gauges and a left arm tattoo sleeve. The right side of his lower lip was pierced also. He was oddly cute and I couldn't help but smile and blush.
"Well?" he asked again. I started to think hard about the question. When we were younger my best friend and I had an inside joke about practically being able to talk telepathically. From that joke spawned the idea that someday we were going to name a band A Step To Telepathy. Without hesitation, I blurted that out.
"A Step To Telepathy, huh?" he pondered on the name for a second, then grinned. "I like it. You, miss, have just named my band."
I laughed. "I've always wanted to name a band, but I have zero musical talent. So, what's your name?" I asked him.
He hesitated for a moment, then went on. "I'm Rogan. Well, actually I'm Benjamin Rogan Teal, but here is no way in hell I'm going by that name," he laughed. "And may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" He winked.
I blushed instantly, "I'm Alice Maureen Fauss, nice to meet you." I stuck out my hand to imply a handshake. He took my hand and replied, "A lovely name for a lovely lady."
Instead of taking my hand he put both of my hands on his waist, and vice verse. Then he hugged me tightly. At first I was hesitant, but eventually melted into the embrace. I'm not sure what it is, but there's something that I like about this boy.
"So, do want to go get a drink or something?" he asked shyly. I'm starting to get the notion that Rogan is really awkward. I like it. I look down at my watch.
"Well, there's no way that I'll be making it to class now. So sure. My next class isn't untill noon." I said.