He stood at the counter, cup in hand, pleasantly surprised by the creaminess of his drink.
“Thought you might like that better,” remarked the cute barista. “It’s hot chocolate, in case you’re wondering.”
The jig was up. He hated coffee but had been coming here for months and ordering something he didn’t want, hoping to start a meaningful conversation with the girl behind the counter.
“How’d you guess?” he asked.
“Your usual order had more cream and sugar than a milkshake,” she said with a smile. “Besides, I was getting tired of waiting for you to ask for my number.”
The Weekday One Hundred 