Unless your singing, keep your mouth shut. No one wants to hear you scream or your cat calls for him or how dreamy he is or anything like that, especially him.
Because that place is practically my second home. I’m there all the time and by some fucking force of the universe, it’s always while he’s working, so no. Does he give me cute smiles? Yeah. Does he give them to other customers? No. Starbucks employees are notoriously moody, broody little bastards, but I love them all so. Does he say my order as soon as I come through the door now? Yeah. Does he laugh at anything I say? Yeah.
But, I cannot! Starbucks is my safe haven, dammit, and I will not put that in danger because I’m a stupid eighteen year-old girl who thinks her barista is cute.