may be


<
<�<
<�<�<
<�<
<


>
>�>
>�>�>
>�>
>


41041624

There's a new barista at the local coffee shop down the street from me who gives out suggestive glances like they're free refills. Maybe it's just me, or maybe she gives them to all the guys; it's hard to tell. All I know is that the first time I stared into her eyes it was a long hypnotic stare, and I knew that I must be with her. I knew right then and there that she is one of those extra special girls, the kind that you want to fuck in every way ever invented and then five more.

The second time I saw her she complimented my shirt. I compimented her smile. I sat down and sipped my coffee, and damn near stained the front of my pants as I plotted my next move. I must ask her out. But how? When? That's when I noticed it: closing time was now. I chickened out. I left.

I came back early the next day at the urging of my roommate. This was a bad idea. She had just begun her shift. It was very busy. I had four refills as I waited for the rush to die down, the whole while my determination becoming more calculated, more obvious. I had the chance to duck out again, but instead I made my move. I asked her out, I saw her getting ready with pen and paper, and her response was... maybe? MAYBE? What do I do? What can I do? I haven't encountered a maybe on a first inquiry since 6th grade. I chickened out. I left in the most awkward fashion imaginable with an "I'll see you later," the whole way home repeating to myself "maybe. maybe! maybe?"

It goes without saying that I'm going to have to ask her out again and again until she says yes or no. I guess once I've done it once, the third and twelfth time will be a breeze.

Wow. I haven't had a crush in a LONG time. This could be fun.



{A} {E} {I} {O} {U} & {Y}

-->