France x Reader: Knowing Stranger (Part 2)

I woke up to the sound of something hard hitting the ground.  I looked over from my spot on the couch and saw my roommate, Alice Kirkland, towering over me.

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” she said sarcastically, picking up a book at the foot of the couch.

She always did this; I’m not even surprised anymore. She always woke me up with different, extremely loud, sounds. It’s probably because when I first met her, I joked that even loudest alarm couldn’t wake me up.  And it soon became routine.  One time she even brought out a handgun in my bedroom-we both agreed that that would never happen again.

I rolled my head to look at the clock.  It was around 9:00 am, and even though it was Saturday, I had to finish a book report and review before my World History mid term.

I lazily pulled myself off the couch and got dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of old, worn, jeans.  As I made my way to my desk I stifled a yawn.  I blinked, realizing I was far too tired to finish anything without caffeine in my system.  I walked to the door, grabbing a coat and scarf, and told Alice I was going out.  She responded with what I can only describe as a grunt -a girly, feminine, grunt- keeping her eyes on the book she dropped earlier.

I closed the door behind me, and felt a chilly breeze blow right through me as my scarf fluttered behind.  I walked down the brick stairs of the dorm and on to the empty streets.  

It was the middle of the term, and around the time where most students realize that, unless they study every chance they get, they're going to flunk their first exams of the year.  So most of them were at the library, cramming their eyes out, or annoying their professor with their stupid questions.

Which was good news for me, not so much for the professors, it meant that my favorite coffee shop was going to be relatively empty.

I walked down the quiet road and let my mind wander.  It wasn’t long before my mind found its way back to the man from last night.  His long blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and light stubble on the bottom of his chin.  His voice, like caramel; sweet, smooth, and rich; seemed to warm me more and more as I thought about it.  The thought of him seemed to engulf me in a feeling that I didn’t know existed; all I knew about it was that it felt right.

I started to lose myself thinking of him. The line between wanting to see him again, and wanting to be with him, blurred until the two felt one and the same. There was a strange ache in my heart when I thought that, even if he said he'll see me today, yesterday would be the first and last time I'll see him.  I didn't even know his name.

I stopped in my tracks. Rubbing my temples, I forced myself to think rational thoughts. Facts, figures, the plot to the latest episode of (favorite running show), anything! I just needed to get my mind off of him before I went insane. I couldn't allow myself to be come broken hearted by him.  

I mean come on; I didn't even know his name.
Before I knew it I made it to the coffee shop. I made my way inside, and took my coat absent-mindedly.  A couple of others were in line, but not as much as there is usually.  I walked in line and glanced at the pastry display.

There were always a lot of freshly made pastries, and they were all extremely well made; not at all like the generic donuts you would usually get at most shops in the area.  Thinking back, it was most famous for their pastries, not coffee, but the fact that they made more money on pastries than anything seemed to be ignored.  I didn’t mind, but I felt a little sorry for the person baking.  They were doing such a good job, yet they got little to no credit.

Before I knew it, I was already to the front of the line.  I looked up and saw the regular cashier, but he prefers ‘Barista,’ Alfred Jones.

“What’s up (Name)?” He asked already grabbing a cup to make my usual cup of coffee.  “What pastry do ‘ya want this time?”

I paused for a brief moment, unsure,  “I don’t know Al.  What do you suggest?”

He looked at me as if I had gone crazy.  I usually knew exactly what I wanted the moment I got up to the counter.  He was so surprised he just stood there, coffee pot in one hand, cup in the other.

“Uh... the cream cheese swirled brownie is pretty good,” he said still staring me as he made my coffee.

“Okay. I’ll have that I guess,” I said reaching for my wallet.

“Dude, what’s eating you? You’re acting like you have jelly for a brain,” He asked half jokingly as he rang up my order.

“Alfred, I’m fine.  There’s nothing wrong with my brain."

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

I chuckled, “Now that’s a lie.  You’re working and I’m not your only customer.”

“My shift is about to end, and there’s no other customers here.”

I looked behind me and saw that the shop was empty.  The other customers must have left while I was talking to Alfred.

I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t let me live it down if I turned him down, “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

“Great!” he yelled.  He looked up at the clock.  “Give me ten minutes; five ‘till my shift ends, and another five to change into something more casual.”

I laughed quietly at his joke, and went to a nearby table and started to snack on my breakfast.  The brownie was really sweet, sweeter than anything I would normally eat, but I suppose it was my own fault for not choosing myself.  I sighed, and pushed the package away in disgust.  I sat quietly at my table, hoping that Alfred would just forget about earlier; I just wasn’t in the talking mood.