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the door.
    “ You two have a nice day,”
I call to the lounging mother and her baby-to-be.
    Coming out on to the street, I wave to a few
cops over the road and walk over to the car park where my brand new
family wagon is parked. I get inside, turn the key and pull out
onto the road. My phone beeps.
    “ Will you marry me?” I read
outloud.
    I shake my head. It's only been 7 months,
but I guess it's time.
    Okay, I text back.
    Just like that I joined all those other
fools that agree to marry their loved ones over text. It doesn't
feel so bad from where I'm sitting.
     
    The End

On The Balcony
    Big Down There 2
    Book 1

A Coffee House Affair
     
    MY EYES CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF HIM.
    Jack Barrels stands behind the large black
and silver metal coffee machine, his large heavy set arms working
the small handles of the espresso groups, twisting, turning,
ejecting and inserting. The muscularity of his tanned forearms is
such that the barbed rose vine tattoo that runs up the right side
one from wrist upwards to under his shirt looks almost real; its
vibrant reds and low skin tanned greens vibrating in the winds of
the man's movements.
    "Espresso - double," the customer
decides.
    "Yes, sir," I pipe out.
    Click, click, ching, money. Another order in
on a crazy busy day at the cafe I have been working at for about a
year full time. Why did everyone decide to come to the sea on my
day off? I was supposed to be out there surfing the waves, not
thinking about Harry (my ex-boyfriend of two weeks) and just
generally getting the stresses and strains of life and the week out
of my system on the cusp of a good wave or two. I'm definitely not
supposed to be perving at the weekend barista (the handsome Mr.
Barrels), who I had heard about but never actually met. I wonder if
I should be happy or not about the turn of events.
    A couple strolls in. The guy is stall with
brown hair and a slightly nerdy look. His eyes are brown and his
clothing posh-cool. For a moment I think that it is Harry, but the
cheek bones and the accessories are wrong. My chest clenches and I
find a tear forming.
    "Earth to Sally. You ok, babe?"
    Jack's finger poking my shoulder makes me
jump.
    "Sorry?"
    "You were spacing out," he says, looking a
little amused, perhaps not knowing about the break up with Harry
yet, as most of the staff do thanks to me harping on about it every
day of the week, a few times a day. "We have coffee to go out."
    I notice the double espresso, latte and
cappuccino with cinnamon that are waiting. He loaded them onto a
tray, which means he is worried about me. They never do that unless
they think the server is likely to dump something on a customer or
the floor.
    "I'm sorry. My mind is elsewhere today. I'll
take these out."
    I grab them up and he nods in understanding
before turning back to the digital screen and clearing the orders
that I am picking up.
    Walking out front into the small, packed
front area, I look to the couple just settling in and checking the
food menu. Harry, John Barrels, the waves I missed and a hard day
at the cafe. What a life.
End Of Shift
     
    SECRETLY WATCHING HIS BUTT IS NOT EASY.
    The day is over, the customers gone and I am
trying not to (or should I say MOSTLY not to) watch Jack's ass
through the black slim jeans that he is wearing.
    The damp wiping cloth that I have in my hand
goes round and round on the top of the table I am cleaning. It's
been doing that for a little too long now and I know that it's time
to do the next; however, this angle is just perfect.
    Jack is moving along the counter fixing up
the cookie display. His butt cheeks are like two tigers rolling
around in full fight under the great sun burnt grass plains of
Africa - to put it metaphorically. His back tapers up under his
black shirt, which is a little tight for his large size, and I can
see the sides of it drawing up and out in a large V shape from
midback.
    He glances back over his shoulder slightly
and smirks at me.
    "Take a picture. It'll last longer,"