"WHAT'S HIS DEAL?" I muttered to myself under my breath as the weird coffee-driven guy walked ithe coffeeshop the following night.

What fuels his motivation is beyond me. Maybe it's the late coffee he drank. I didn't get what he wanted to achieve by trying with me. What else can I possibly tell him to make him forget about it and shew away?

"Hey, Not Interested,"

I find the roll of my eyes the immediate genuine response to everything Devon says. His name lingered with me for a little until I went to sleep last night. He's such a weird guy, I wish he'd stop showing up when I'm all alone at the café. Shiloh hadn't showed at all today, most probably because she has a hangover from last night. And anyway, I'm used to having her sign out by nine or something, since nobody steps into the coffeeshop after that. Well, until now.

It's a Saturday, why is he out at a coffeeshop at ten pm?

"What do you want?" I ask, blatantly bored with my question.

"Coffee," he says. "Black, strong, no sugar. Make it large."

I silently punch his order into the creaky register and take the money he slid on the counter, giving him change quicker this time. I went to make his coffee as he took a seat, put his headset on and started gazing out the window by the table he was sitting at.

Minutes later, I'm placing the tray with coffee on his table, next to his elbow. I was apparently a little too quiet, or his music was a little too loud in his ears, that when the tray barely touched his elbow, it takes him by surprise and the tray is almost knocked over. The cup nearly loses its balance and tips a little, but doesn't fall or crash or anything dramatic.

"Sorry," I involuntarily say, flustered as I try to wipe the stains of black coffee with a napkin before sitting it on the table. I peeked at the green-eyed mischievous expression Devon has and huff with an air of exasperation. "Actually, I am not sorry. You knocked it off."

"You sneaked up on me," Devon removes his headset completely and, although he had a frown on, a chuckle falls from his plump lips.

By now, I'm almost positive he was just trying to get a reaction out of me, but I can't bite my tongue as his heavily-lashed eyes tease me. "I didn't sneak up on you! You were so out of it. You were the one who knocked the cup off."

"Fine," He mocks defeat and I can't help but roll my eyes. "I'll let that go, but I expect better waitering skills, Not Interested."

I sigh, but my blood was gaining temperature under my skin. "I'm not trying to please you, shithead."

"You are. I'm your customer."

"You're a pain in the ass, that's what you are."

"Come on," he chuckles, defending himself as he adds, "I'm not that bad."

"Whatever floats your boat," I smile acidly, purposely getting on his nerves. The corner of his lips twitch and I turn away before I end up screaming in his face.

"That's not fair," He follows me as I retreat back behind the counter.

I turn to glare at him as he leans his forearms down on the cold counter. Although he was wearing a very comfy-looking hoodie. Focusing my gaze stubbornly, I didn't give him a reply, frustrating him even further.

"I don't even know your name," he excuses.

"You don't need it," I say.

"I can't sleep at night without it," He jokes dramatically and I give him a look of disgust, at which he laughs wholeheartedly. "Maybe I don't need it, but I do want it."

"Was that supposed to be impressive?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "Admit it, though."

"Admit what, creep?" I shake my head at him.

"That I saved you last night," He shrugged casually. "You could've been raped."

He was trying to be blunt to make me squirm, so I looked him dead in the eyes and said, "About time."

Now he looked off-balance. "So dry."

For some reason, I feel the need to explain, my crimson red cheeks having a mind of their own. "It's called sarcasm, moron."

"Oh, really?" He looks at me in almost equally weighed sarcasm. "I thought you actually wanted to engage in a sexual intercourse with a stranger against your will. How funny."

I avoid his challenging eye contact and try to swerve the ball into my field. "The asshole was too drunk to stand still for a millisecond. You really believe he could've touched me, either way? No."

"Right," Black Coffee smirks.

"What?" I blink at him in frustration then snap. "You had your heroic scene, Romeo! But I'm not Juliet, so you should look for her somewhere else."

My words linger in the air for a minute, with his pale green eyes piercing into my own clear blues. I tried as hard as I can not to waver my gaze, waiting for him to give up and look away. Until he finally does.

"Sorry to bother you," he says with a tone of finality.

"Sorry to disappoint."

He mumbles under his breath and my heart beats faster inside my chest, because his voice is quieter and his eyes are not on me anymore. But this is good. I wanted him to be over this.

Devon walks away-finally-to drink his coffee. But he only takes a sip, flinches, then slings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves swiftly out the door.

But, of course, not forgetting to add, "Goodnight, Not Interested."