"Can I help you?"
"I'm sorry. It's just," said the man standing across Mary Margaret from the counter. "You remind me of a girl that I once knew."
"Oh," she blinked, slightly taken aback. Although this man looked rather adorable with his faded flannel shirt and sandy blonde hair, she didn't know what to think when he approached the cashier and froze not moments after sputtering out nonsensical sounds.
"I'm really sorry. That must've been strange. I'm not usually like this," he mumbled, running his hands through his hair.
She studied him for a moment then surveyed the nearly empty coffee shop. It was 7:15am on a Monday. Customers were probably at home running late, as they often did at the beginning of every week.
"It's no problem. Don't worry about it. Maybe you just need your morning coffee," she smiled brightly, finally recovering from their awkward first meeting.
"Actually, I'd like a hot chocolate. To go. With cinnamon," the man said with a small lopsided smile that made the sides of his eyes crinkle.
Mary Margaret let out a hum as she punched in his order into the cashier.
"What? Never heard of a grown man order hot chocolate in the morning before?" he teased.
"No," she looked up from the screen, biting her lip. "I just thought I was the only one who liked cinnamon in my hot chocolate."
This time, he grinned. "David,"
"M-mary Margaret," she replied, unprepared for the sudden introduction. Now she was spluttering about like an idiot.
David leaned closer, his smile quickly turning into a smirk. "I meant to give you my name for the drink,"
Mary Margaret stood dumbfounded for a second before gathering her wits and squaring her shoulders confidently. "I meant to give you my name complimentary with your drink,"
"Maybe I could just get your number instead?"
"Maybe you should just pay for your order?"
David's smirk remained. "Alright. See you around, Mary Margaret."
"Your name will be called once your drink is ready," she replied, mischief glinting in her eyes.
XXX
Half an hour later, David placed his hot chocolate on top of his work desk at the sheriff's station. His best friend since college, Graham Humbert, was the town sheriff and had kindly offered him a job as deputy when David stumbled back into town after leaving for a year to go see the world.
"I'm telling you, Graham, she's the one!" David said, pacing back and forth.
"Well if you're so sure, why didn't you go talk to her?" Graham asked, not looking up from the paperwork in his hands.
"I did," David's feet slowed to a stop.
Graham finally glanced at his friend, one eyebrow raised. "And?"
"She doesn't remember me,"
XXX
Just a random idea that needed to be written down. :)