Page 38 of It's in the Contract
“This is the first Starbucks ever built!” I say, a little too cheerily. What can I say? I’m passionate about coffee. “Promise me you’ll try the pumpkin spice latte. Their blueberry muffins are also divine. Oh and, hi, how are you by the way?”
Zeke laughs and turns to the barista, a twenty-something-year-old wearing a green apron and a Seahawks baseball cap. “I’ll have two PSL’s and a blueberry muffin, please.”
“What size?” The barista asks in a bored voice.
“Uhhh . . .” Zeke turns to me. “Large?”
“Venti,” I say with a smile.
The barista takes our order, and Zeke insists on paying for everything.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
We head back to the table and go quiet. Zeke glances around the room, which bustles with activity. It’s Saturday at 11:00 AM, and all kinds of hipster people are ordering coffee, typing away on laptops or chatting with friends. I see the girl with the black pigtails who caught my eye in school, and I wave. She frowns.
Zeke looks around. “Seattle has a diverse crowd, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
“It’s nice,” Zeke says. “I’ve lived in places where I was the only black kid surrounded in a sea of white and maybe one or two Asians.”
“Zeke!” The barista shouts.
I stand to grab our orders, but Zeke beats me to it and gently puts his hands on my shoulders to press me back into my chair. “I got this.”
I watch him go to the counter. I actually really love that he’s such a gentleman. Noah is a great guy, but he never made me feel this way. Like I was something precious, to be taken care of.
Zeke returns with two tall cups of deliciousness and a fluffy muffin sparkling with turbinado sugar on top. Zeke hands me a cup before taking a seat. I take a sip of the hot liquid, savoring the cinnamon and whipped cream. “Mmmmm. It’s a crime that they only have these in the fall.”
Zeke drinks and nods appreciatively. “I like it.”
“Stop being so enthusiastic,” I tease. “It’s only a drink. Calm down. You’re getting way too excited.”
Zeke laughs. “It’s good. Really good.”
“Tell me about the other places you’ve lived,” I say, taking another sip so hot that my tongue gets scalded.
Zeke sets his coffee down. “Kentucky is where I was born, and it’s where my mama gets her Southern roots, accent, traditions, and all that. But I only lived in the South for my young years. I don’t remember much.”
I nod. Zeke doesn’t have much of an accent.
“Before moving here, we lived in Montana. And before that Utah and then Arizona, which was so unbelievably hot but also beautiful in a dry, deserty kind of way.”
“Wow. You really have lived everywhere. Do you have a favorite?”
Zeke pauses. “Are you sure I’m not boring you?”
“Not at all.” I break off a piece of muffin and chew. Sweet blueberries burst on my tongue.
“My favorite place, it’s odd, but it was Nebraska.”
My eyebrows raise. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”
Zeke shrugs and takes a deep swig of coffee. Whipped cream stains his upper lip, and I have this weird urge to wipe it off. He does that himself with a napkin. “I really like having four seasons, no offense to Seattle.”
I open my mouth and place a hand on my chest. “How dare you not love only rain and sunshine!”
