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*Disclaimer*This is my first time EVER writing for a story or an imagine. So please bear with me, as it probably won't be the best thing ever or even great until I start writing more often. I am open to suggestions for future imagines and pointers on writing better. So thanks for reading and have a lovely day!*
Being a barista at a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in Brooklyn had its perks; quiet music always playing in the background, customers chatting and reading their favorite novels, and of course the handsome guys that occasionally decide they need a coffee.
It was an extremely busy morning, customers coming in and out of the coffee shop as if their life depended on it. "Some people will do anything to get their caffeine fix," you say to your co-worker, Jamie.
"Of course, they will," he says, "we are all slaves to caffeine, especially here at Café Americano."
You knew that you didn't really have time to be chatting, but Jamie was one of your best friends. Ever since you started working at Café Americano, he was the only one to show you the ropes, and how to perfect your latte art.
The doorbell rang, and you found yourself staring at the man who walked in. Tall, brown eyes, dark, slicked back hair, and a suit that would make any decent woman melt. The whole coffee shop seemed to go silent, or maybe you were just zoning out. The only thing you knew, was that your heart decided it was time to beat as fast and loud as possible. Great thing you were at the cash register! Except, it wasn't, or so you thought.
"Doll?" says the dark, haired stranger, looking at you with a puzzled look on his face.
And with that, you snap out of whatever trance you were in, only to realize the guy you were staring at is now right in front of you. "I'm so sorry," you find yourself saying. "Anyways, what would you like to drink?" you say on auto-pilot, now that you have regained yourself.
"Just a latte, doll," says the stranger.
"Can I have a name for your order please?" you say, hoping to learn this beautiful stranger's name.
"James, but my friends call me Bucky," he says with a wink.
And on that note, you begin making his latte. Of-course he has a cute nickname, you think to yourself. You walk up to the counter to find Bucky sitting at a table in the corner of the shop. Being careful not to bump into any tables or customers, you make your way over to him. "Here's your latte," you nervously say.
"Thanks, Doll." Bucky says while nonchalantly checking you out. You start to walk away when you hear a faint "I will be back tomorrow."
Smiling to yourself you head to the backroom to talk with Jamie, and to hope that tomorrow comes fast.
