After rushing the original so I could post it before work, I received some helpful critique and have hopefully improved the story based on that advice.

I don't own Total Drama.

He gulped, doing the best to swallow his nerves as he took a step closer. After a few long, drawn out moments of feeling his heart pounding in his chest, the customer ahead of him moved aside and the girl looked up from the cash register.

This was it.

He was going to do it this time. He was going to talk to her.

The girl beckoned him forward, raising an eyebrow when she recognized him.

"Back again, Gingy?" She asked. "What'll it be?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but his entire face flushed red and he suddenly felt as though his tongue was too large for his mouth. He tried opening it, but no sounds would come out – but hey, at least he didn't sound like a dying animal. Right? And with that, any chance he had of having a conversation with the pretty barista vanished into thin air.

"Just how many of these things have you drank today?" She asked, and he shrugged in response, still unable to speak. Seeing his distress, she offered him a smile. "Same again?"

He tried to speak, but still no words would come out, so he just nodded, looking sheepish. Why did he struggle so much with something so incredibly simple? Most people said he talked too much, and yet here he was – completely speechless in the face of a woman he could only describe as a goddess.

"One caramel flan latte for Gingy, coming up!"

Writing his name on the side of a cup, she passed it on to the next station to be made, then rang in his order. Without a word, he paid for his drink and went to wait for it to be made, mentally kicking himself for not being able to talk to the pretty barista.

When they called for his name, he made his way to the counter to collect his beverage, sighing. Taking the offered cup from the other barista, the skinny blonde in charge of making the drinks, she recognized him too. "You sure like caramel lattes, don't you-" She checked the name on his cup. "Gingy?"

He shrugged as he took a sip of his latte, hiding the wince at the taste of the caramel. Caramel was one of his least favourite flavours, and yet he'd ordered a caramel latte so many times that it had become his regular order.

Maybe one day he'd be able to talk to her, and order something other than a caramel flan latte. He wanted to order something that he actually enjoyed. Which, if he was honest, was not a single thing on their entire coffee menu.

And maybe one day he'd work up the nerve to ask the pretty barista for her phone number.

Taking a seat at a table for two by the window of the coffee shop, he placed his cup on the table, walking his fingers around the sides of the cup to turn it in place. He stared at the cup for a moment, lost in thought as his eyes wandered the patterns of the stroke of the green marker against the side of the white cup. She really did have nice handwriting, all flowy and curvy, just like her. The pen stroke was thick, but each letter was beautiful. It really suited her.

And it took him nearly ten minutes of staring at the side of the cup to realize that just under 'Gingy' was the name 'Anne Maria' in the curvy, beautiful script – right above her phone number.

Comments, questions and constructive criticism is always appreciated so please review.