Vector: Chapter Two - Sex Stories

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Vector: Chapter Two

Date: 7/7/2015, Categories: Fiction, School, Teen, Teen Male/Teen Female, Author: zxnoregretsxz69, Rating: 84.4, Source: sexstories.com

anyone to think that you were dating a real live girl, now would we?" He winked. I rolled my eyes. There was no way he was keeping that promise. We joined our friends in class, which proceeded much the same as it did yesterday, except without any quizzes. I never made eye contact with Sara and she left as soon as the bell rang, so we didn't have to talk again, thank Buddha. The rest of the day flew by. I guess that's what happens when you have a "date" (really more of a meeting) with a hot girl coming up and you keep wishing it was tomorrow. I told myself not to be a pussy, though, and kept from postponing or canceling on Sara. *** After soccer, I dropped Eric off and showered thoroughly, throwing on some nicer shorts and a clean shirt. I told my parents that I was meeting a friend from Redwood, which was technically true, and that I shouldn't be too long. I arrived at Coffee Break at 5:50 and made my way to the door. Their logo, a shattered coffee mug with googly eyes --get it? Coffee 'Break'?-- looked down at me from the top of the glass door. While I opened the door, I looked through it and saw Sara sitting at a circular two-person table on the edge of the single room, sipping at an iced coffee and tapping away on her phone. I entered, greeting the nose-ringed barista with a small smile and pointing myself in the direction of Sara's table, determined to be friendly and open no matter what Sara said. I felt that I'd been a little harsh earlier and wanted to make up for ... it. She still hadn't noticed my by the time I got to her table. "Is this seat taken?" I asked with a small smile. She looked impatient for a moment, then realized who I was and regained her composure. "No, um, sit down." "I think I'm gonna get a drink, first." I told her. She nodded once and went back to her phone, so I ambled over to the counter. The barista smiled again. "What can I get ya?" She asked with the quirky eagerness that seems to come standard with independent coffee shops' baristas. "I'll have a small Break-uccino, please." "Coming right up." The aforementioned "Break-uccino" was a bit of a stretch of a portmanteau of "Coffee Break" and "cappuccino", but it was delicious. Some kind of strange smoothie of coffee and ice, it was the only coffee I would drink. My parents insisted that the taste of coffee was an acquired one, and would grow on me as I got older, but anything that wasn't loaded with sugar still tasted way too bitter for me. "You want whipped cream?" She asked. "No, thanks." I responded. When baristas put whipped cream on drinks, they always put less drink in the cup to make room for the whipped cream, which seems silly to me. Therefore, I refuse whipped cream on principle. Within seconds, the barista had delicately placed my drink on the counter with a tattoo-covered hand. "That'll be $4.35." I raised my eyebrows at the cost, thinking of the Starbucks scene in the Lego movie, and slapped down a five on the counter. She gave me the change, which I ...