There's a little coffee shop on the corner that you've always adored. Quiet, with a gentle atmosphere, more than once you've made your way over to escape the drunken grasp of your mother. There was an open piano, and more than once you've seen your friend John perform, skilled fingers dancing across keys as he played a variety of songs, from mellow piano pieces to smooth, happy jazz. Occasionally his sister and your best friend, Jade, plays relaxing bass alongside him, and your coolguy brother lays down sweet melodies with his sax. You thoroughly enjoy their music, and although you dabble in violin yourself, you're much more comfortable sipping an au lait and listening than actually performing yourself.
At one of these performances you met the only girl that would occupy your mind for as long as you could think.
Her name is Kanaya.
The trio had opened up with some quick, bebop inspired songs that had some of the customers up and about, swinging and swaying and dancing, having a good time and laughing. You simply leeched off this happy energy, smiling to yourself as you sipped your milky coffee. Tonight was the celebration of some arts festival, and people had come from all over to partake in fine wine and art and literature and music. You were just barely 20, but appreciating creativity is one of the things you did best.
The lights dimmed, recycled Christmas lights twinkled from the ceiling, giving off glows of red, blue, green, and fuchsia. Dave took the mic to introduce a change of pace to the music, and pointed into the crowd, inviting someone onstage. You couldn't see who he was pointing at, but as a young woman made her way onstage, you felt your heart stop. She was absolutely stunning. She had carefully styled short hair, jet black, with the deepest green eyes you've ever seen. Her makeup was dark and sultry, the corner of her eyes turning upward into wings, lips painted a dark plum color, contrasting against her light olive skin. Her face was stoic, albeit peaceful, as she looked at the crowd with a loving gaze, almost. The audience was completely quiet as she looked everyone over, grabbing the mic. She looks at you, and you make eye contact, her lips slowly turning upward into a smile. You feel your heart pound against your ribcage, anticipating, what, you're not really sure of. But you realize the rest of the crowd feels the same, anxious to hear this mysterious woman's voice. She snaps once, twice, and then your ears are hit with a slow, gentle melody from your brother's saxophone. John then comes in with the harmony, and Jade plucks a couple strings...
Her voice is soft and smooth and warm like velvet, and she coos, words dripping from her mouth like melted chocolate. You are completely ensconced by the music, feeling her voice steep deep into your veins. She holds onto the mic stand like it's her long lost lover, tenderly, swaying with the slow rhythm, eyes half-lidded in concentration. Not once do you take your eyes off her. She is wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck, which matches her slim-fitting black jeans and low dark brown boots perfectly. A belt decorates her hip, slender and ivy green like her eyes. At this point there is nothing you'd like more than to fall asleep to her voice. She sings three songs, all about lost love and longing, and you tear up a little at the last one, because she sings with all her heart and the words themselves sound like bitter tears. As the performance ended, she maintained her expression as the audience clapped wildly. You absentmindedly gripped at the edge of your light scarf, wanting to walk over and hold her close, to thank her. Your coffee sits next to your arm, half-finished and now cold.
After the performance, you talked to Dave and Jade and John for a bit, helping them pack up their instruments and clean up the stage. You congratulated them on doing a great job, and Dave gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before driving both John and Jade home. You gave a nod to Karkat, the cafe's owner, before stepping outside and making small talk while he locked up. You are a frequent customer, and although he was always grumpy, he didn't seem to mind sharing quick exchanges with you. He left and then you realized you were cold, pulling the scarf tighter around you. You could see your breath in the cold night air and you just watched as it evaporated, playing back the tunes you heard tonight. You could even remember some of the lyrics. You sang them softly to yourself, walking down the street. Your house is only a few blocks away, and you didn't mind the exercise. Then the smell of a sweet, spicy smoke enveloped you, so you looked up, catching sight of the gorgeous vocalist sitting on a bench, curls of smoke rising from a cigarette in her hand. Your heart leaps. The street lamp gives her skin a pale yellow glow, and it's beautiful. You stand in silence, shivering ever so slightly, while you watch. Watch her bring the cigarette to her mouth, close her eyes, inhale, exhale. The smoke comes out in a stream from her mouth, and you imitate it, exhaling to see your own breath come out in a fainter stream. She heard you, and turns to face you, and suddenly you're extremely embarrassed. You just stand there, arms wrapped around yourself, as she looks back at you. Moments pass. She takes another drag of her cigarette, then holds it out towards you.
"I am assuming this is what you want, since you are just standing there, staring at me." Despite her sharp words, her tone is soft, like her singing was. You snap out of your daze, then shake your head.
"Oh, no. I don't smoke." She continues to stare back at you. "Thank you for offering, though, uh..."
"Kanaya," she says. You hear her name for the first time and you repeat it in your head. Kanaya. How pretty. "Kanaya Maryam. And what is your name?"
"Rose Lalonde." She smiles at you, and you feel your insides melt. You continue to stand there as she puts out her cigarette, mindfully throwing the butt of it away into a trash can.
"You're shivering, Rose. Where are you headed? Maybe I can give you a ride, since I feel that would be quicker than on foot." She steps closer to you, and you can see she is at least a good three or four inches taller than you. You can smell the spicy smoke clinging to her skin mixing with something else, an herbal scent, something like rosemary and citrus.
"Well, I am cold. The ride doesn't sound like too bad of an idea, but if it's out of your way, I wouldn't want to trouble you." You say that sincerely, because, well, you mean it. "I live down this street anyway, it wouldn't be a problem to just walk."
"No, I insist, because being out in the cold too long can make you sick, and my motorcycle is parked right there anyway, so we might as well." Motorcycle? She points, and you see it, a sleek black Kawasaki Ninja 250r. You've never ridden one before, or any type of motorcycle. You hesitate for a second, but she walks over to it, beckoning at you to follow. You do, and she pulls out a leather jacket from her bag and hands it to you. You don't say anything, just put it on as she straddles the bike, putting the key into the ignition and revving it up. She is still in her sleeveless turtleneck, and you see goosebumps on her arms. You give her a look of questioning, but she either doesn't notice or just ignores it as she pats the seat behind her. "Hop on," she says. You do, and you're a little awkward, your long skirt getting in the way as you try to secure yourself. You feel the motorcycle's engine work underneath you, the vehicle twitching in anticipation.
"Hold on tight, Rose. You have to wrap your arms around my waist, and stay there. I don't have a spare helmet for you, and it would be extremely unfortunate if you fell off. It'd be hard to steer to the hospital with an unconscious person in the way." She chuckles, and you give a weak smile back. You're a little scared, and especially nervous at the thought of being so close to the woman who made your heart stop multiple times this evening. You slip your arms around her waist, and hold her tight, pressing your front to her back. Where you make contact it is extremely warm, a relief from the icy air. She secures her helmet then turns to face you. "Ready?"
"In fact, I was born ready," you chip back, gripping hard. She kicks up the stand and with a smooth growl from the engine, you are on your way home. She isn't going super fast, much to your relief. You are both cruising, and you pressed your face against her back, enjoying her scent. You point the way to your house and when you arrive, a feeling of disappointment creeps over you. She pulls the keys out of the ignition and takes her helmet off, stepping off of the bike to help you down. You take her hand and brace yourself, finally stepping onto solid ground. Then you take off her leather jacket, reminding yourself that it is in fact, cold outside. She smiles and thanks you, turning back around to step back onto her motorcycle.
"Kanaya, I loved your performance today. Your voice is outright beautiful," you say quickly. She faces you again and studies your face more carefully.
"Thank you so much, Rose. I knew I recognized you from before. We made eye contact during the performance, right?" Her green eyes are piercing.
"Yes we did," you reply. "It's quite a coincidence that I got to meet you in person after that. And a lucky coincidence, since I got a ride home from you, an amazing performer, nonetheless." A smile creeps across your face. "Maybe our paths will cross again." No point in getting your hopes up.
She smiles back, then perks up, remembering something. As she digs through her bag, she says, "I think I may perform with those three again sometime soon, but as to what day specifially I'm not entirely sure. But..." Kanaya pulled out a pen and small notebook, quickly scribbling something onto it before handing it to you. You read it, it's her name and number. Later on that evening you will observe that her handwriting is extremely neat despite her rushing.
"You may feel free to call me anytime you need a ride, Miss Rose Lalonde."
You curtsy in a sarcastic gesture. "Why thank you, kind gentlewoman. I will take this offer and consider it seriously."
She giggles, putting her helmet back on. As she starts her motorcycle up again, you wave to her. She waves back, then takes off, and you watch her as she rides down your street until she's out of your sight. And even then, you can hear her motorcycle for a while after.