Gerard Way-Like An Oreo-Ray Toro

I see him everyday. He's always sitting in the same booth in that little coffee shop of the corner of two streets that are named after flowers that nobody has every heard off. He always has his head down, stuck inside some novel, only coming up for a breather when he throat is in desperate need of a drink. A black coffee with two sugars to be exact.
No, I'm not some creepy stalker (stalkers wear trench-coats, I don't). I work at the little coffee shop called 'Dear Joe.' My shift just happens to be when he stops in for a cup of coffee and a read. He's a daily customer, which is weird because most people usually come in only on work day, but he's here on the weekends. I work on the weekends too, for my uncle owns the shop and if I want to take over for him one day, I have to work almost all the time.
He never orders anything but his black coffee, ignoring the fact that I could add the sugars for him. He seems to enjoy stirring in the contents of the bright pink packets into the steaming liquid. That's okay, because I like how he looks so concentrated when he does the simple action. It's adorable.
I can't help but smile at him when I take his order and give him his coffee. Or when he plops down on the most ratty armchair in the whole place. I wonder if he ever notices my eyes watching him with the utmost interest. I try to make it subtle, but sometimes its hard and I take advantage of the fact that he is so enthralled by the book that he is reading. Ok, the way this is coming out if like I'm really creepy. I'm not.
I just wish that he would think of me as something other than the over-friendly coffee guy.
I mean, yeah, he smiles back at me and stuff, but I think that he just does that to be polite. He always puts the change from his dollar fifty cup of coffee into the tip jar, which is nice. But than again, maybe he's just one of those guys that hates change.
He also uses the nicest voice when ordering too, it never sounds angry or conceited. It sounds almost like what worn jean would sound like. Not too harsh, but still sturdy and has just a hint of softness in it. I like it, it's not too high and not too low. It's very comforting.
Everything about him just seems to have this vibe to it. Almost casual, but still alert. Soft and pleasant. His appearance matches his voice too. He looks like a college student, though I know he isn't because he never has books with him. His black skinny jeans always have little splatters of color on them. Sometimes the splotches are the primary colors, and other times that purest shade of white.
He must be an artist of some sort, for 9-5 jobs would never let him have his hair that long. It just brushes his shoulders and is a black, silky color. The black contrasts wildly with his hazel, almost green actually, eyes, making them pop even more. His eyes have little laugh lines on the corners, making them friendly and inviting. His lips are a very light pink color, there's barely a difference between their shade and that of his pale skin. His teeth are very white though, and shaped adorably like chicklets (I know because he always smiles with his teeth when he thanks me for his coffee).
I just wish that I had the balls to go up and talk to him. Or maybe say something other than, 'Have a nice day,' to him. I wish that I could compliment him on his shirt, or ask about the paint on his pant leg. I daydream about doing that and having him tell me about some beautiful picture that he's in the middle of painting. But no, that never happens because I, Ray Toro, have the smallest balls (figuratively speaking) known to man in the history of ever.
I hope that he'll one day start a conversation with me, instead of me having to with him. That day hasn't come yet, and I doubt that it will. He's just a customer, and after all, what would he ever see in me? Also, how do I know that he isn't as straight as a line? He could be in a heavy relationship with some girl for all I know.
As I lean rest my head on my palm, I decide that it is time to move on and find someone that'll actually like me back. Wasting my time on someone that doesn't even know that I exist outside of this shop. I am just that curly-haired-dude that serves the coffee to him. That's all.
I come to the conclusion that I need to stop listening to all of that emo music when he enters. I don't have the effort to move from my stool behind the counter and wait for him to approach it before getting up and standing behind the cash register, not bothering to smile like a coke addict at him today.
"Welcome to 'Dear Joe,' what can I get for you?" I ask, my voice monotone.
"No smile and chirpy tone today?" he asks, raising and eyebrow. I raise my own back at him, not excepting him to say anything but an order.
"Some days I don't really care to try and sound perky," I say with a shrug.
"That's a bummer. I always look forward to ordering, but now I don't really want to anymore," he says, his voice having a playful undertone.
"Um, I'm sorry?" I question, hoping that I said the right thing. I force a smile and re-say the sentence for him.
"Not quite peppy enough, but it'll do. I'll have a black coffee please, two sugar packets on the side," he orders. I go and pour the coffee into a tall mug, knowing that it wasn't a to-go order. I bring it over to him and he already has his two dollars out. I make sure to smile at him, sincerely this time, when I give him back his change.
"Have a nice day," I say to him as he dropped the 50 cents into the tip jar.
"Hey, since the place is empty, would you want to come and sit with me? I left my book at home today and would really enjoy the company," he asks, tilting his head to the side and looked at with a questioning look. I look around and sure enough, every table is open and nobody is in the room except for him and me.
"Sure," I respond, not really believing the he actually wanted me to sit with him. And talk to him, presumably. And to think that I was about to give up.
"Great, so go get a coffee, and I'll find a seat," he says as if he is telling me a master-mind plan. He turns quickly on his toe and goes straight for his normal seat. I grab myself a coffee with cream before taking the seat opposite him.
He has his legs tucked underneath him and is looking at me as if I am a piece of art on display. I shift in my seat and take a sip of the scalding coffee. It hurts, and I have to remember that swearing in front of customers while nursing a burnt tongue is neither appropriate or sexy.
"Who is Joe?" He finally breaks the silence with a rather odd question.
"I dunno. Is this a trick question?"
"No, I just am having trouble understanding the name of the shop. I feel as if I am not understanding an inside joke or something," he replies.
"Oh, my uncle has a weird sense of humor. It's supposed to be Joe as in coffee, but no one every gets it. At first I thought that his wife was pregnant and that was the name of their unborn child or something," I explain, not realizing that I was babbling. He just nods his head and smiles at me.
"So, if you're name isn't Joe, then what is it?"
"Ray," I mumble before taking a sip of my coffee. I hate that name.
"I'm Gerard. Not Jared, Gerard. And if you and I got married, then you would be Ray Way. That'd be pretty awesome," he quips. I can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of this guy. He always seemed so serious, when he's really the complete opposite.
"Unless you took my name. Then you'd be Gerard Toro," I say, giving him an alternative.
"Does this mean that you are okay with the idea of us getting married?" he asks.
"I guess. Why not?" I answer, not really knowing what else to say. It's a rather bizarre conversation.
"Excellent. Well, if I am to marry you then we have to start dating. What time do you get off of work?"
"Around 8, that's when we close up." He frowns, as if in thought.
"That's a while away. How about if I pick you up at 8:15 and then we can go and have dinner? Would that work?"
"Yeah, that'd be fine," I say, astonished that he was actually asking me out on a date.
"Then I shall see you then, future Ray Way," he says before talking a sip of his coffee and giving my hair a ruffle on the way out of the shop. Leaving me with a very confused expression on my face and my insides dancing happily.
This guy was nothing what I expected him to be like. I expected him to be silent, not much of a talker with a bit of a dark side. Instead he opened up to me and chatted as if we had always known each other. He was like an Oreo; dark and slightly alluring on the outside, yet soft and fluffy on the inside.