coffee

Devin shivered as the cold December air stung his cheeks. He was definitely not used to New York weather. He had on so many layers that he could barely walk, and his fingers had gone numb awhile ago. And yet he loved it, just like everything else about the city.

Instead of endless plains like there were in South Carolina, everything was so packed. Instead of seeing familiar faces everywhere, everyone was a stranger. It was great. He could belt out lyrics to songs on the subway and be considered normal. He could paint his nails whatever color he wanted and wear them out in public without getting stares or getting shouted at.

Devin's love for the city would not prevent him from freezing to death. He spotted a small coffee shop, and pulled open the door. It was almost orgasmic how the warm air immediately warmed him. It smelled like the coffee his mother used to brew in the morning before she dropped him off in middle school.

He rushed over to the counter, looking at the menu which hung above the counter. Behind the counter was a a barista who was so cute that Devin almost chickened out of talking to him. He was tall, with skin the color of coffee with a splash of creamer, and a warm smile. He wore his dark curls out in an Afro. The name tag on his brown uniform read Michael.  His nails were painted a pale shade of pink, and he tapped them against the table.

"Um..." said Devin, biting his lip. "Hi, Michael."

Michael didn't respond. Instead he gave him a look that said hurry up and order.

"Can I have the iced soy mocha?" Devin asked. Michael took down his order. "My name is Devin."

The barista nodded. "That's 3.17. Cash or card?" He had a strong accent. Maybe British?

"Um...cash," replied Devin, chewing his lip. He handed him the money.

"So... you're not from around here, I'd assume." Devin was surprised how kind he was being, as he seemed uninterested in conversation before.

"Yeah," admitted Devin. "I'm from South Carolina."

"South Carolina?" asked Michael, raising an eyebrow. "Do niggas even live there?"

"Not really," he said. "Where I lived, there were about a hundred families, and I'd say ten were black? I love the city. That's why I applied for NYU."

It was a week before classes started, but Devin had done an early college program over the summer because he was so desperate to get out of the South. Run nigger run

"I go to NYU, too!" he exclaimed. "What year are you in? I mean, actually, you're clearly a freshman. I am, too. What's your major?"

"Film," informed  Devin, reaching into his bag. He pulled out his camera, showing it to the other boy.

"Small fuckin' world, Devin. I'm a film major, too." lmao michael reminds me of daveed

He rocked on his heels. "Oh. Well, I should get your number... we could study sometime."

He put his camera back in his bag, and too out his phone, unlocking it, and giving it to Michael.

Michael winked, taking the phone. "Yeah... study. I mean, I guess since you're pretty cute..."

Devin blinked, taking awhile to process what he'd said. "That's not what I meant. I mean, no it is what I meant. Literally, not what you thought I meant. How'd you even know I was gay?" It wasn't that obvious, was it?

He laughed as he typed in his number. "The pride pin on your messenger bag, idiot."

Devin looked down at the pride flag pin he'd bought online a week before college started. "Oh... yeah... sorry."