Onyx Latte Novels & Stories

m. "Good morning! What can I get started for you?" I arch a brow. "A venti iced caramel macchiato, double shot, oat milk. Extra caramel drizzle. Like, drown me in it. I'm barely holding it together." His fingers pause over the screen, lips twitching like he's fighting to keep a straight face. Poor thing. Work policy, I get it... but if he wants to laugh, he should just let it out. I'm not liable for snorts.

No, this was something else entirely. Emma looked uncomfortable and shrugged. “There are tiers in this pack. He’s above my tier. Here you go. It’s a butterscotch latte. I hope you like it. If not, let me know. It’s one of my favorites, so I figured it was a good option,” she rambled on.

It was a fast food chain's burger meal. "I just had a sudden craving," Yvonne said with a smile. "Mr. Hover, would you like some coffee?" "If it's coffee made by you personally, then I'd love some," Samuel replied, deliberately pushing the boundary. Yvonne nodded and headed to the pantry. She found the bag of coffee beans she had given him last time and brewed two cups of latte with the machine. When Samuel saw the cup of latte she brought over, he was surprised to find a delicate latte art flower on top.

“I am so sorry to be late. Please accept these as the smallest of apologies for my truly shameful timing.” He handed a cup to the realtor, who blinked in delighted confusion. “Tall nonfat vanilla latte, two extra pumps?” he said with a wink. The woman practically preened. “Oh my gosh. That’s exactly right!” Then he turned to me, more gently. “And a lavender oat milk latte, one pump honey, extra hot.” I stared at him, taking the cup more slowly. “How did you know how I take my coffee?” “I called the Moonstone Packhouse,” he said. “Asked to speak to the chef. I hope that wasn’t overstepping.”

“This one was for me, but you can have it.” “What is it?” “Decaf latte. Oat milk.” I stared at him. That was my order. My exact order, down to the oat milk, and he knew it because he’d heard me order it a hundred times in three years of marriage and apparently the information had never left his brain. “That’s my order,” I said. “I know.” He held it out. “I didn’t buy it for you. I bought it for me. I’ve recently developed a taste for oat milk.”

"Yeah, keep going. You might find him somewhere," I continue to look around, realising that we didn't get the chance to order our drinks yet. "I'm going to buy myself a drink while picking up all the strengths to call him," I make my way towards the counter, "Hi. One iced caramel latte with chocolate drizzle at the bottom," "That'll be $5.78."

I chose a beverage that will suit his taste and proceeded to the cashier. I remember the person who also did not know how to order milk tea... It’s our Christmas party that day we bought it. "Sir, May I get your order?" I was brought back to reality when I heard the barista speak. “2 Hokkaido Milk teas. Hundred percent sugar level, lightly pressed only, the sinkers are pearls and Panna cotta” "Okay for what name please?" The barista asked. "Adem." I smiled. I looked at Adem who was watching closely.

“I’m certain Townsend can fix you espresso if you’d prefer. This may help too.” Beneath the fae Luna’s thin fingers, the coffee in my cup begins to agitate and when it settles, looks more like a latte. “Wha’cha do ta my coffee?” “Sip it. When it’s gone, you’ll feel up to your usual snuff.” Uncertain, I lift the cup to my lips. Then the smell hits me and I breathe deep. “Umm-hmm. Vermillion, girl, ya gots ta smell dis.”

he greeted the lady with pale skin, freckles on her cheeks and had her hair tied with a pony tail. ‘I should be thankful that the manager is absent today,’ Geoffrey said inwardly with cold sweats on his forehead. “What is your order ma’am?” The lady who is wearing a black women suit answered, “Give me one ice Americano, medium, and a roasted hazelnut ice latte, large.” Roasted hazelnut ice latte. Geoffrey stuck in his place, unmovable while staring at the card. ‘I know someone who loves that,’ he thought. Then a warm smile appeared on his heart-shaped lips, like the belated bid of summer before the autumn came.

Just the thought of how it would taste was enough to leave me thirsty. Stiles stepped up next. “I'll take a cold brew, medium size. No sugar, but can you add a splash of almond milk?” The barista confirmed both of our orders with a cheerful nod. “Got it. A grande vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot for you, and a medium cold brew with almond milk for you. That’ll be $11.” Well, I remembered vividly that in my dad's firm, things like this were usually paid for and the staffs got them freely.