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because she was
    crazy about that dude.
    So, for the most part, I didn’t mince words and was an open book—except when it came to my
    true feelings for Mitch. That was my one sore spot. But I was sick of lying to Angie. I needed to let it out, or I was going to explode.
    I plopped down on the bed. “Okay. You’re right. It does bother me when he goes out with other
    girls.”
    “I knew it! How could it not?”
    I took a deep breath because it was the first time I would admit this out loud. “I have feelings
    for him, okay? But see…I know Mitch better than anyone. We talk a lot. His parents’ divorce really
    screwed him up. He’s worried he’s going to turn out like his father, and he’s seen his mother really hurt by things his father did.”
    “But what does that have to do with you?”
    “We’re only fifteen and sixteen. I know he cares about me and wants us to always be in each
    other’s lives. He’s afraid to screw it up, and honestly, I kind of am, too. I can sense that he’s
    sexually attracted to me, but I don’t think he’ll ever cross the line. The problem is…sometimes I
    wish he would.” I exhaled.
    “So, you both want each other, care about each other but won’t ever find out whether that
    could lead to more? Meanwhile, he just dates a bunch of bimbos, and where does that leave you?”
    I gave the only honest answer. “Screwed.”

    ***
Mitch worked three days a week at the gourmet coffee shop in the mall food court to help his
    mother pay the bills. He had to attend this intensive training so that he could learn how to
    operate the fancy equipment. He was now an expert milk frother and made my vanilla latte
    exactly the way I liked it: extra hot and foamy.
    One Thursday afternoon, Angie, Cody and I decided to pay Mitch a visit at work. While my
    friends usually took their drinks to go and walked around the mall, I loved to stay and watch him
    in action in his red apron as he juggled the different orders, flipping cups, pushing buttons,
    steaming milk.
    Strands of his wavy brown hair curled under the red cap he wore. Mitch had the shiniest,
    thickest, chestnut hair with a hint of copper when the sun hit it. Part of his uniform was a fitted, black polo shirt that hugged his toned chest. I loved the focused expression on his face as he
    drizzled the caramel just right or carefully poured hot milk into a cup. His tongue always moved
    slowly across his bottom lip when he was concentrating.
    When he placed drinks on the counter, he’d look customers in the eye and flash his gorgeous
    smile. It was no wonder why the lines were always endless. Girls lined up in droves to visit the
    brawny, blue-eyed barista. Watching Mitch was a downright turn on.
    The thing I loved the most, though, was the moment when he’d first notice me. The genuine
    smile reserved for me was warmer than the one he’d give the customers, and his eyes always
    lingered on mine like they were telling me a secret. Then, he’d go back to doing his work, stealing glances at me. He’d smile whenever he caught me watching him.
    If he saw me get in line for a drink, he’d gesture for me to sit back down. He’d always make
    mine before the rest and whistle over to me when it was ready on the counter. The cup would
    usually have something special written on it in black marker. Sometimes, it was a goofy face or
    random word like “ass” to make me laugh, and other times, it was a message. Today, he wrote,
    Wait for me . I nodded to indicate that I would hang around until he got off work, and he winked at me.
    He would make me as many lattes as I wanted, and I would do homework or read my kindle
    amidst the constant steaming sound of the milk frother.
    At exactly 7:00, Mitch came from behind the counter with his coat on. “Thanks for sticking
    around. I like it when you’re here. It makes work go by faster.”
    Every time he said something nice to me lately, my heart would pitter-patter.
    He grabbed my backpack. “Let’s go.