I go to Barnes & Noble a lot. I go there and read, hang out, sit in the cafe and write, all kinds of stuff. Up until recently however, I never got anything from the Starbucks cafe. First time, I ordered a hot chocolate, because I just wanted something hot to drink and I didn't understand all the Italian words on Starbucks' menu. The barista who rung me up was super fuckin' cute and had just the best smile. So after I retreated back to my table, stifling not only my excitement at seeing this beautiful girl but also my screams after burning my tongue on the accurately named "hot" chocolate, I went back to my writing. Only thing is, now I had this person in my head. And since I had not long been single after a relatively bad breakup, it surprised me. Until then I wasn't sure when I would be ready to once again put myself out there, but now I felt as though I had to. I returned to the cafe, with my little drawstring bag of notebooks and writing materials, and set about trying to look busy. I actually did have work to do, but at this point I had been unhealthily nursing a pretty large crush on this complete stranger. Though to be fair, when is any infatuation with a stranger healthy? So, after considering these ridiculous thoughts, I came to the genius conclusion of establishing groundwork, so that if I were ever stupid enough to ask her out at least it would seem somewhat less out of the blue. I got up to the register, she smiled and said "hi". She said "hi", and she smiled. I pondered this greeting for about two seconds in real time, approximately a minute in my head, as my heart pounded increasingly faster. Then I attempted to unwind myself, and admit to my ignorance of Starbucks' menu and the Italian language in general. I told her how overwhelming it seemed and that I really wasn't sure what I should order. Luckily, it was later in the evening and there weren't any people lining up behind me to force me into panic-mode, which would equate to me yelling "COFFEE" at the girl. She giggled at my somehow endearing lack of caffeinated knowledge, and then guided me through a verbal flowchart ending in my decision. She also came up with the idea to "hook me up" with an apparently badass mixture of flavors she had come up with herself, and to only charge me for a black coffee. Now, here is where I began to suspect that I may just have a chance with this individual whom I had quickly become so smitten with over the course of the last three days. She handed me my drink, it was indeed awesome, and I walked back to my table to again burn my mouth. Quietly, of course. Few days pass, and I'm back again. Third times the charm, they say. So, at this point, I'm feeling pretty confident. I've even glanced at the menu a couple of times, and by now they aren't looking so much like ancient hieroglyphics. I say "hey", and so does she. This time, I keep my composure, and after mentally projecting a donkey onto the menu for me to envision pinning a tail upon, I pick some random flavored something. Doesn't matter what, I'm sure it'll taste good, just needed the excuse to show her that I was in the store that night, before I would later approach her. A couple hours pass, and my hands, which I assumed would be soaked with nervous sweat, were only somewhat moist due to my newfound tremors having shaken them almost dry. Despite this and other plague-like symptoms that I had suddenly acquired in the last fifteen minutes of me working up the courage to finally go over and ask her out, I did indeed rise to the challenge. As I approached the counter, her back to me as she furiously scrubbed dishes, I felt a twinge in my neck. Something minor perhaps, but significant enough to have me rethinking this fool's errand. "She's busy." I thought, "I shouldn't do this!" Then I realized that I was waving, and my mouth had emitted a sound. It was an "um". Well, shit, time for the Hail Mary pass, lest I come off as entirely too awkward to function, and she never looks me in the eye again. "Excuse me," I said, as she turned to face me. "Hi, I wanted to, um, ask you something." "Ok!" She said cheerfully, waiting for whatever it was I had to offer. "I, uh, well, you seem pretty cool, and I promised myself that I would at least try..." as I trailed off I looked up to see her immediately seeing through my intentions. She said nothing. So, in an attempt to leave myself with an ounce of hope and simultaneously not lose my dignity in that moment, I whipped out my pocket notebook. "So, I realize you're at work," my vocal cords shook out, "and I don't wanna put you on the spot, so how 'bout I leave you my number?" As my newly Parkinson's laden hands scribbled out my number, I realized I had never told her my name. And as I began to write, I blurted out: "I'm T, by the way." She smiled and said, "I need about tree fiddy."