She smiled back, a little tentatively, and said, “Hi.”
She ordered her usual: bittersweet mocha with skim milk. Iced, no whipped cream. She winced in anticipation of the expectable joke about her complexion. Northtown was very white, except for the multi-ethnic (and occasionally multi-species) enclave around the University.
He smiled, which made her stomach feel odd. “Not too sweet. Much more interesting that way.”
She sternly told herself that it wasn’t flirtation, because she was a stocky dark girl with braids and heavy horn-rims, and she really did look the part of the engineering student she claimed to be.
[Annie’s first meeting with Bertie the Barista.]