God. Will I never not be socially retarded?
“Okay, it looks like there's a little cafe about twenty minutes from here. Sound good?” Trikk asks.
I nod, settling in for the drive.
Trikk puts his hand on my thigh, giving me some seriously naughty thoughts. I ignore them, excited to finally go somewhere with one of my guys.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive in an adorable little town. We drive down the main street, and I’m rubbernecking at all the quaint shops and restaurants that line both sides of the street. There are people walking about, and a decent amount of traffic.
Trikk pulls in to a spot on the side of the road. “The cafe is about a block down. Hold my hand, and keep your head down, okay?”
I nod, and he gets out first, walking around to open my door like a true gentleman. He bows at the waist, offering me his hand. I giggle, accepting it.
“You’re such a cute dork,” I laugh.
“Come on, little sweet talker.”
Trikk tugs my hand, and we walk over to the cafe.
Bells chime on the door as we enter. It's tiny but packed full of people. The smells coming from it are divine.
There is a smattering of tables throughout the space. It looks totally old-school, from a time past.
A harried looking waitress comes over to us. “Welcome to Cuppa. Table for two?”
“Yes, please,” Trikk answers.
“I have something in the back, a couple just left. It should be cleaned off by now.”
We follow the waitress over, and take our seats at a small, square table. It's adorned with fresh flowers, and two menus sit alongside silverware and napkins.
“Our specials are on the front. I'll be back to take your order.”
I open my menu, smiling at the large caption at the top stating, “New Jersey’s best-kept secret!”
My eyes blow wide at all the options. Hell—I've never even heard of some of this stuff.
Trikk chuckles, reading my facial expression as I lower the menu.
“What are you getting?” I ask him.
“Pancakes and coffee, of course,” Trikk rolls his eyes so dramatically, I’m surprised he doesn’t give himself a headache.
“Ha-ha, asshole.” I playfully kick him in the shin. “I think I’m going for the blueberry pancakes, bacon, coffee, and orange juice.”
“I love how much you enjoy food.”
Trikk smiles, and I smile back.
The waitress comes over, holding a pen and small notepad. “What can I get you folks?”
We rattle off our orders, and she walks to the kitchen, then comes back with a pot of caffeinated goodness. I look in bewilderment for the cups, and Trikk points out they're upside-down in front of us.
“Just flip your cup over.”
I face-palm, my face reddening again.
She pours our coffee and saunters off.
