I don’t know if it was just me or my imagination. But he looked cute. Simply cute. There was nothing mirror cracking or extraordinary about him either. It was all sudden that it surprised me. He walked towards me, unaware of my (pathetic) feelings. Ah, that longing-ness. I fidgeted in my place, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Tucking my (apparently outta place) tuft of hair behind my ears, punching some random keys in my about-to-die phone. The things I do when I’m nervous. You’d be surprised. I smiled and led the way to the far corner of the dimly lit and silent café. He merely nodded. Maybe he didn’t. I had to imagine that too. Wasn’t he interested in seeing me?
We sat down; all the while keeping mum. I of course couldn’t read his mind. Averting my gaze from him, I waited for him to speak and pretended to look around the place while checking him out from the corner of my eyes. In every corner of the café, there were couples huddled around. I decided looking at him’d be a better option. And made the mistake of looking at the table. I caught his chest hairs peeking out from underneath his shirt. Ok, conversation mode now, my brain took over.
“So whats up? Are you going to just sit there and stare?”
He eyed me curiously, “well, I thought you’re the conversationalist and was thus waiting for you to start, milady” he crossed his arms across his chest. Great. Now biceps. I wanted to bang my head against the nearest wall. Anyway, I got his sarcasm and tried to start the conversation. All the while looking down.
“I’ll come to that in just a bit. How are things with you?”
He chuckled. “Yes darling things are fine, why’d you ask?” he smiled. Finally!
He smiled. I finally lifted my head and looked him in the eye. He looked so painfully cute. And I couldn’t do shit. Unbearably cute. I could smell his cologne. Such a turn on the damn thing was! The table being small, we weren’t too far apart. At the same time not close enough for our knees to bump into each others under the table either. Damn. Damn the table, damn the place. I should’ve chosen a better place. I cursed myself.
He wore a white striped shirt. Which beautifully showed his biceps. I bit my lip. I fought the urge to uncross his hands and hold them in mine. Those hands. If only it could hold me. Afraid I was, to take the first step. His hair was neatly combed without any frills or curls and lay neatly. Not even run-my-hand-through-it way. It looked nice. His eyes. They were small; yet, bright and pinned my gaze down and occasionally I had to look away. No moustache. And full, luscious lips. I imagined what it’d feel like, to press them against mine. I shifted in my seat not knowing how to bring the topic up. I wanted to kiss him. Right then and there. I wanted to sit next to him, not across him and run my hands through his chest. I wanted to smell more of him and his cologne. I wanted to make him breathless. Oh why had I not chosen some other place, why?
Alright lady, lets get this over with, I told myself and cleared my throat. He raised his eyebrows, enquiringly and looked amused for some reason. Was he looking at me? After all, I had dressed to send out the right signals, seductively…Back to earth lady, rapped my sense.
“Um, I uh want to tell you something….ask you rather..” I started, in a small voice.
Now the amusement was lost and he looked serious, again. Damn. Should I drop it?
“Yeah go on.”
“Would you be…” I cleared my throat. I clutched my hands to the sides of the table, rocking to and fro in my chair.
“Would I be what???”
I gulped. “Interested in a….”
At the word ‘interested’, his brow seemed to hit the roof.
“In a what for chrissake??!”
To be continued