Starbucks Run

I'm not like most girls. Can you smell the teen angst? Believe me, I know what
you're thinking. "That's what all teenage girls say". But really, most girls my age sway
between sports, looks, and brains. And for those of pure breeding, they have all those
traits and more. My awkward and disproportional limbs allow no room for athleticism.
And my thick-rimmed glasses...well, they wouldn't last a minute in any sports game
either. Glasses? Caught you again, didn't I? But no. Sadly, I don't hit the books as hard as
one would think. My subpar grades and my below average SAT scores set the bar for
academic failure; leaving me in a place of ambiguity. Not athletic, not smart, and, viewer
discretion advised, but I'm not turning any heads. That is why when I hear the word
"love", I'm not even quite sure what to think. But I do know that the romanticized
emotions movies portray about meeting the "one" or having a true loves kiss is BS. No
boy could ever make my heart skip a beat. Not unless he gave me something with peanuts
in it and my EpiPen was nowhere to be found.
I woke up on a rainy Monday, and of course my hair frizzed to a perfectly shaped
afro. I peered over at my alarm clock mounted on my cream vanity. Just my luck, I slept
straight through my alarm. Now my everyday mediocre appearance was going to be even
more unfortunate than usual. Stumbling down the stairs, I entered the kitchen and popped
a piece of bread into the toaster. I grabbed a brown paper sack and began shoving in
random items from my pantry. A makeshift lunch would have to do for today. All at once,
dark black smoke began to fill the room and the smell of charred bread suffocated me.
Great I burned my breakfast. Sifting through the soot and ash of my charred toast, I
accepted my defeat. There was no way I was going to make it to school on time. I

decided the only possible cure for the Monday Blues was to head straight to my nearest
Starbucks and order the biggest and highest calorie drink on the menu.
Fumbling through my handbag, I strolled up to the cash register. Without looking
up I began to place my order, Hi, yes I would like a , but then, there he was. He was
the most imperfectly perfect male I had ever seen. He balanced it quite beautifully if you
ask me. The way the light glistened off his chiseled cheek bones right below his hazel
eyes sent my mind in a daze. Brown, curly, yet messy hair taunted me with every swirl
and as my eyes scanned his toned chest and arms, I could feel my face begin to warm.
And then it happened: his eyes met mine, only for a second. His soft, crescent shaped lips
formed a smile morphing his eyes into a sweet and cloudless summer day. You know, the
one with a breeze just right that it cools your sweat. In that moment I died. I truly did. My
heart, normally beating around 65 beats per minute, beat just 64. The pain was like none
Id ever felt. My body ached and my head spun a thousand times over. If this was "love",
the only vow I will take is to never fall into it.
I snapped back to reality and realized how awkward I must have looked just
standing there, eyes wide and my jaw resting on the counter. Im sorry what was that
drink? The words escaped from his beautiful mouth. Um, a Salted Caramel latte
please, I stuttered back. It was the first drink that came to mind. And your name? He
asked. My name? I gulped hard. I ran my wet hands down the sides of my pants; someone
turned the heater on in here. Sarah I finally gasped, not daring to make eye contact.
Okay, well have your drink right out. Trembling, I found a seat at a small wooden
table. Slowly, I began to shred the napkin in front of me into tiny pieces, covering the
table in paper snowflakes. I was trying every trick in the book to remain calm and distract

myself from staring mindlessly at the most gorgeous boy I had ever seen. It took a while
for my breathing to slow and my pink cheeks to fade, and by the time I finally got my
heart rate under control, I heard my name.
I grabbed the Salted Caramel latte from the circular counter and gazed over at
him, savoring my final moments in the presence of this demigod. He was busy tending to
the midmorning rush that just walked through the door, so I could gawk worry free. Who
am I kidding? I thought. I had better odds of getting a perfect score on Ms. Clarks
Calculus final than I did of getting him to even notice my existence. My stomach
dropped. This Starbucks run was supposed to be a pick-me-up for the awful start of my
Monday, but it really just reinforced how invisible I am. I slugged my bag over my
shoulder and proceeded to walk out of the coffee shop and to navy blue Ford Escape. I
touched the drink to my lips and took a small swig. I dont even like caramel. I pulled the
cup away from my mouth, exposing it to my eyes. In black sharpie I read my plain,
boring name. But there was something more. My eyes widened and butterflies swirled
within my stomach. Printed right under my name read: To the prettiest girl Ill see all
day. Have a great Monday. My eyes began to water and a faint smile stretched across
my face. Maybe I wasnt so invisible.