Page 59 of Stabby Little

This is a trendy, upscale hipster coffee shop that caters to rich Manhattanites who mix with the cool crowd. Bookshelves stuffed with classics that no one's read in years line the walls, lending the space a rustic atmosphere. Acoustic music plays from hidden speakers as the smells of roasting coffee beans and fresh baked pastries slide into my nose.

Overhead, posters of dead writers and poets adorn the ceiling, each with a serious expression. This isn't the type of place where business students hang out. This is a liberal arts abode, one for rich kids who can afford to drink overpriced coffee and read Proust. I don't doubt that their fathers work at corporate banks or manage investment firms on Wall Street. My disguise plays up my inner hipster to manipulate Crystal into thinking I run with her crowd.

A girl with blonde hair brushes past me and heads to the coffee bar. From her bookbag, she retrieves a notebook and sets it on the counter. She doesn't speak to the male barista as she sets three pens and two highlighters next to her notebook.

It's her.

Crystal.

The girl I need to trick.

Fuck. This will be harder than I thought.

Not only do I need to woo her—I need to get an invite to her cousin's wedding this Saturday. Girls have never turned me on, so I don't know how to interact with her. Thank fuck I have enough experience fucking men I wasn't into to help me fake it.

I stride to her side and settle into the coffee bar stool next to her.

"Hi." The male barista tips me a nod. "Welcome."

"Thanks." I glance at the chalkboard behind him. The day's specials are outlined in bright white chalk with pictures of espresso in porcelain cups. They don't contain the prices, which doesn't surprise me. You can't afford to drink coffee at a place like this if you need to ask the price.

"What can I get you?" the barista asks.

"I think she should order first." I glance at Crystal. "She was here before me."

Crystal raises her eyes and looks in my direction. Her irises are hazel, as deep as the coffee she plans to consume. She runs her fingers through her hair and tucks a strand over her left ear, then tears her eyes away from mine.

A pink flush spreads across her cheek as she faces the bartender. "I'm just here to study." She adjusts her notebook, then smiles at me. "I usually grab a Café Americano."

"One Americano, coming right up." The barista loads the espresso machine with fresh beans. "I'll be with you in a moment."

I set my backpack on the seat next to me and pull out a book. "I've never tried a Café Americano. How is it different from regular espresso?"

Crystal brushes a speck of dust from her notebook. "It's espresso and water. Like a latte without the extra calories."

"Cool."

"I used to think it was a boring drink," Crystal confesses.

"Why?"

"I only ordered Starbucks Frappuccinos when I drank coffee. You know how girls are. But when my uncle let me sample his Americano when we were in Rome, I fell in love."

"It sounds good." I nod. "Sophisticated. Grown-up. Not like the sugary drinks so many other girls opt for."

Crystal runs her thumb along her wrist. "I guess I'm not like most girls." She lets out a laugh, then turns her head away from me. "Some people make fun of me for saying that, but it's true."

"How so?"

"Lots of girls only order drinks they can post on Instagram. I never went through a phase like that."

"That makes sense."

"When they were trying to go viral, I was in the library listening to dark academia music playlists. I love the ones that classical Youtubers compile to study and concentrate. They get me in the zone when I memorize notes for class."

"I love those playlists. They're such a vibe."

"They really are." Crystal stares dreamily into the distance. "I could throw on one of those playlists and study all day. I'm a nerd like that."

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