Demi Imagines 2.0

Barista

You're at your neighborhood Starbucks...

You love this place. It always has the prettiest baristas.
You get in line, and you look over behind the counter. To your surprise, there's a new barista.
She has long dark hair pulled up into a messy bun on her head. She has dark red lipstick on, and her eyes are lined with a dark blue.
She's perhaps the most beautiful person you've seen in your entire life. She's not too tall, and you can see how curvy she is.
You're not even paying attention to the fact that you're first in line.
She meets your eyes and smiles. Your heart skips a beat. She raises a hand and says something, but you can't hear the words.
You're in a daze.
She laughs slightly and says something again.
You're snapped from your thoughts and realize you're making her wait.
You feel your face flush as you go over to her register.
"Sorry," you laugh awkwardly. "I spaced out a bit there."
"No worries. I do that all the time," she chuckles. Her voice is so beautiful. You want to live in it. Wait what.
You shake your head, and she clears her throat.
"What'll you have?" she asks.
"The usual," you say without realizing that she wouldn't know what your usual is.
"Oh, you come here often?" she asks, not even missing a beat. She turns to another barista. "What's this lady's usual?"
"Tall caramel frappe with extra cream, syrup, and made with almond milk," she replies, and your barista rings it up.
"Thanks," she tells her.
"Oh, yeah, I do come here a lot," you respond. "Sorry, I knew you're new, but I didn't think far enough ahead," you laugh.
"It's no trouble at all," she replies with a smile.
She's so nice. How is she real?
You slide her the money, and she hands you your change.
"I'll get your drink ready in a moment," she says before closing the register. She gestures to her right. "Please wait over there." There's that smile again. You notice she takes a moment to scribble something on your cup.
There aren't a lot of people today, and you feel grateful. Normally, the barista who takes your order wouldn't make your drink.
You go over to the counter, and she starts to make your drink.
You watch. She's like a fairy—she moves with such grace.
She continues making your drink, and after a while, she's finished blending everything. She comes over to you and starts up with the whipped cream.
"So, what's your name?" she asks.
"Y/n," you respond.
"What a pretty name," she hums, a smile on her face. "I'm Demetria. My friends call me Demi."
"Can I call you Demi?" you jokingly ask, and she meets your eyes.
She smirks. "I'd let you be more than my friend. Don't worry."
You blink. It takes you a minute to figure out what she's saying.
You feel your cheeks flush.
"I'd like that," you tell her.
She smiles before finishing up your drink. She slides it over to you.
"Call me," she says, and you notice her number on the cup.
You smile. "I will."

A/N
I feel like I've written something like this before but oh well