Coffee and Shoes

I looked down and admired the shape of the shoe, the tautness of the new leather and the brightness of the white contrasting against the navy ribbon running across the toe. The shoe was cut perfectly, just above the toe line as to avoid all that nasty toe cleavage.1

There’s something that I like about shoes, something that intrigues me. With out them, our feet would be ugly and calloused. And who wants that? Because of the shoes we can have a manicure last more than a few days and walk farther distances or shorter depending on the shoe.2

People often say don’t judge a book by it’s cover, which for the most part is true, although that rule is not often held up to. However, you can judge a person by their shoe.3

A person wearing flip flops can be seen as run down or messy or in a hurry, there’s no need for that problematic shoe tying time to go to waste. 4

A person wearing a pair of heels or espadrilles can be seen as either extremely put together or slutty, depending on how the shoe is worn.5

A person wearing converse is generally seen as punk or emo. 6

A person wearing vans is seen as a skater. 7

And this why it was the shoes I first noticed on the six two gorgeous male specimen blocking my sunlight in Starbucks.8

Clean white converse with lyrics sharpied onto the rubber siding. And the lyrics were from my favorite song.9

Say it with me now; le sigh.10

My eyes trialed over his long legs and lean torso, I cursed the graphic t-shirt and leather jacket that covered it. He walked up to the counter and I breathed in. Real leather. I had spent a summer in Florence and would know the smell of real leather from a mile away. Luckily, this leather was only several feet away from me.11

Above the cursed shirt and jacket was a face of the Gods; chiseled, strong features, features only someone like Michelangelo could come up with. Brown hair curled around his face. He pulled off his sunglasses and green eyes pierced the blasted barista. I regretted not applying for the job here.12

“Tal white mocha with whip,” he ordered my drink. We drink the same drink. We digested the same drink. Although from the look of his abs he digested it much better than I did.13

Oh my God. I drank the drink of the Gods.14

He glanced at me and smiled, my breath caught in my stomach and I turned away. Don’t look back, don’t look back. What if he was still looking at me? Had I blended my concealor well enough this morning? I tried to wipe at my face without looking like more of a dweeb. Please be blended.15

I felt the God walk behind me and wait for his drink to be ordered. I scooted back and leaned against a nearby chair. I didn’t want be seen as someone who hoarded the counter.16

And I also hadn’t worked on my ass in weeks. I did not want him to be looking at my flabby ass. Assuming he would even look at-17

“Tall white mocha with whip,” the barista called out.18

I grabbed for the cup but felt warm hands close around mine. The hands belonged to the God. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to wash my hand again. I would sleep next to this hand every night, never let it touch another thing.19

“Sorry, it’s yours. My name isn’t Aslynn,” my name sounded like a liquid silver rolling off his tongue, “Aslynn,” did my knees just quake, “that’s an interesting name.”20

“It means vision or dream,” I did not just say that. How could that be the first thing I ever said to a God, it would probably be the last thing I ever said to him. 21

“I believe it,” he smiled and not the friendly, hello smile from earlier. But a smile that made me melt from the inside out.22

I smiled back and squeaked. I squeaked? I squeaked.23

“Tall white mocha with whip,” the barista placed an identical cup next to mine, “How cute. You two drink the same thing.”24

“Cute?” my gaze ripped away from the God in front of me.25

“All boyfriend and girlfriend, doing everything together,” I gulped and felt my insides turn again.26

“Oh, we aren’t-“ I began.27

The God swung his arm around my waist, “It’s what brought us together,” he smiled grabbing our drinks and leading us outside.28

Wait?! Together. Brought us together. Was the God next to me flirting with me?29

He set his coffee down on the outside table and took out a card. A business card.30

It would so be my luck to have him be a pimp or something.31

“This is my cell. Call me sometime. Maybe we can get coffee again?”32

I nodded my head, to afraid to speak. He smiled again and once again my insides did loop-d-loops. He turned around, grabbed his coffee and went off to his car. A new Mercedes.33

Someone pinch me, please.34

“I like your shoes,” I called out. he turned around in only a way that a God could, he smiled again.35

I like your shoes? I shook my head in amazement at the words that came out of my mouth.36