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Scott rubbed his face as he waited by the counter. He’d placed his order, desperate for a caffeine fix. Caramel macchiato was his poison of choice. He always ordered it hot and without any regard for current weather, even in the summertime. And though he didn’t come in often, he came in enough to be recognized by the staff. Maybe it was because he ordered his warm caramel macchiato on the hottest day of the year last time he was in. Whatever.
The barista placed his drink on the counter and Scott muttered a thanks, picking it up and leaving without hesitation. He was groggy, but the warmth he felt through the cup was waking him up. The first sip would do the trick, too. He turned the cup around so he could drink it- wait was that ‘Shot’ scribbled on the side? Scott furrowed his brows and walked to the edge of the sidewalk so he could slow down without interrupting other New York pedestrians.
He chewed on his cheek as he scrutinized the poor handwriting. Of course it said Shot, there was no mistaking the leaning ‘h’ or the stupidly large, singular ‘t’ at the end. Definitely not his name, and while Starbucks was known for messing up names, his was just too simple to screw up. He’d been going to the same shop for over a year now. They’d never gotten his name wrong before (sometimes they’d take off a ‘t’ but he wasn’t petty about it).
Whatever. He needed to drink it to get his day started. He took a sip and tried to ignore the disgruntled feeling he had.
…
It was six days since his last coffee and he definitely needed it. There wasn’t a big crowd on Tuesday morning so he was able to get his caffeine fix fast. The same barista from last time gave him his cup and Scott responded with a tired ‘thanks’. He turned the cup over just before leaving and saw a different name this time. Skod. Who has a name like Skod? Scott squinted at the sloppy cursive name, but simply rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He walked out, taking an experimental sip. He blinked quickly as he tried to wake up and was tempted to take a full gulp before letting it cool more. But September air wouldn't cool his coffee fast enough to warrant the attempt, so he yawned instead.
…
Friday. He didn’t usually visit this often, but he didn’t sleep well last night and needed some assistance. He got the same caramel macchiato and waited by the counter. Like clockwork, the same barista placed down the cup and Scott grabbed it. He turned to the name and actually gasped a little. Skip.
It had to be on purpose. It was the same barista every time, and at least the previous names had been relatively close. This was too much for the ex-thief. “Uh, skip?” He looked up at the barista, who flashed him a brilliant smile. It made Scott lose some of his resolve. “That doesn’t s-sound anything like Scott,” he frowned and pointed to the name so the barista could see.
He shrugged. “It’s loud in here.”
Scott cocked his head to the side and lifted his eyebrows. He gestured to the café behind him and said, “It’s Friday and it’s not even a low buzz.”
The barista just shrugged and went back to the register for the next customer. Scott’s jaw dropped a bit until he recovered with a sigh. He left the Starbucks faster than usual, gripping the warm cup harder than usual, taking a gulp sooner than usual. He burned his tongue.
…
Almost a month had passed. Scott hadn’t thought of anything snappy to say to the barista until last night so he’d been holding off. He was ready now, determined to get his own name on his coffee.
Scott ordered his caramel macchiato, eyeing the barista who’d written his name wrong so many times before. He walked over to the counter and waited. It seemed like hours had passed before his coffee was placed in front of him, but that could have been because of how nervous he was. Yet he just had to confront the worker.
He grabbed his cup and turned it around. In very legible handwriting was a name that didn’t belong to him: Sam. He looked up and opened his mouth to say something, anything about how the barista had been antagonizing him. But the barista flashed him another smile and said, “Call me.”
Scott’s jaw dropped for the second time in the Starbucks and he glanced down. Below the name was a bunch of numbers… Oh. Scott looked up but the barista was already back at the register, punching in someone’s order.
He rubbed the side of his face and left the shop, taking a sip of his warm coffee even though he was entirely awake.