A smile curled on my lips as I polished the marble counter with a lack of ineptitude tonight. How could one concentrate after the experiencing of several unusual events?
I, Adrien Agreste, Son of the famous fashion designer: Gabriel Agreste, can't say how elating: life had just become in just a day. I raised my hand clenched to sneak a peek at the silver ring on my right finger. Today was the day I'd become the chivalrous stunning hero of Paris: Cat Noir, who'd fight alongside his partner Ladybug against the vicious super villains summoned by Hawk Moth. The ring I stared at was my miraculous: a charming piece of jewellery that made me the hero I was, and Hawk Moth yearned for this little trinket of mine. My kwami, Plagg, however, was the one who'd grant me the powers of destruction: I could say he was this godlike creature who had been digging his face into stinky old cheese this entire day. Although, that wasn't quite the only change I had faced.
After many years of prowling in the dismal corners of the lonely and cold mansion I live in, my dad finally granted me freedom. I was going to commence my first year of lycée starting from tomorrow! After being home schooled for so long, I was finally permitted to be educated in an ordinary manner. My father had taken the initiative, in fact, the wisest one he had ever taken in my behalf: to send me to lycée. Here I am at 10pm, 'working' part time as usual as a barista at Chai to Impress. I was here near the counter hyperventilating the reverie of a day I had with nobody to serve…nobody except one.
There in the corner of the shop, the table near the door; she sat. Her back facing me as her head was bent down in a book, she appeared to be doodling in it. Her hair as dark as a raven's plumage were tied in her classic two pigtails. From the past month, this girl would come to the café everyday always around the same time; she sat at the same table with the same posture. I had never indeed managed to get a glimpse of her face as she'd always sit with her back facing me and when she would enter; I could never see her. I had recognised her not because of her hair as there would be enough girls with dark hair bustling in and out this little snug place; rather it was the pink polka dot hoodie she constantly wore. It wasn't the colour or the pattern of the hoodie that gave her the title, but it was the golden embroidered word at the back:
'Princess'
It was stitched in an exceptionally neat cursive at her back. My brain had forgotten she even had a name as it would continuously address her as 'Princess'. I hardly even know Princess and I doubt she even acknowledges my presence so why do I discern her more then I should…it wasn't like I enjoyed snooping on her, certainly not. Nonetheless, the poor girl would sit here in the empty shop doodling or stitching as hours passed by and she would never even order a drink, it bothered me how her dedication got in the way to her well-being. Our shop would usually get vacant by 8pm and there she'd sit till 10:30pm doodling or stitching. I start work as a barista at 5pm and must at least work till 8pm but could stay till 11pm if I felt like. Princess would come around at 6pm, the time of my coffee break, she would sit here for 4 and a half hours, 2 and a half hours in which she was alone with-me. It surprised me how she barely paid attention to my presence and it gravely aggravated me; I mean I was in the same room with her for 2 and a half hours for a month and she'd never detected my soul lurking around the coffee shop running errands. Additionally, I was a famous model and most people came to the café to get my autograph which really pestered me I was in no mood to sign them when I was out of model duties, but I was too nice to reject any one of them. I can still envision the cluster of fangirls, who came in yesterday, bouncing there way out of the shop in feverish euphoria. I probably was on every billboard in France, how had she not recognised me? I concluded that she was just shy but then again there were some days where she'd sit gibbering on the phone, her sweet melodic voice would ring in my ears each time she uttered a word, and she'd speak with numerous people, but she mostly spoke with someone named 'Alya'.
Princess eventually stood up, she shuffled inside her bag and shoved her sketchbook inside. I still couldn't see her face distinctly as she slung the pink backpack to her shoulders. Her feet made their way towards the door as she flung it open; a familiar blur of a book hung askew from her backpack that wasn't shut right, the sketchbook fell out of her bag and she was consigned to oblivion. I rushed over to the door and picked her sketchbook up, she was already outside the café, I knew I had to catch up her speed. In haste, the door yawned agape and I saw Princess not too far away on the sidewalk to the right.
"Hey, wait!" I yelled at her at the top of my lungs praying that she'd at least acknowledge me now.
In an immediate response to my call, she turned around and I gasped and slightly grew breathless for a second.
Her benevolent bluebell orbs for eyes were looking at my green ones in flames of curiosity and wonder as I felt the shivers go down my spine. She had rosy pink cheeks like Snow White and a cute button nose; the bridge of it slightly flushed in a light crimson with miniscule freckles complementing her appearance even more. Her lips were the shade of her rosy cheeks and seemed as soft as the fluffy ice cream I consumed in the morning.
I realised that my mouth was open, mortified; I pursed both my lips together, right! It was time to come to the point…I gulped and gazed in the trance of her bluebell eyes as I slowly lifted my right hand so the sketchbook could align with her vision.
"Brew forgot something, Princess!"
I clapped my left hand to my mouth, I could feel the scarlet hue growing on my cheeks. I couldn't believe the words that had come out of my mouth; it sounded of something a charming fool like Cat Noir would say not I as Adrien. I bit my bottom lip and glanced at Princess; hoping I wouldn't scare her away by my dorkiness. Instead, she proceeded towards me, a sweet smile seeped from her lips.
Currently, she stood right in front of me, her smile widening as her gaze lingered on me. We stood in silence until she finally says hotly,
"Well, well…what are you waiting for? Please chai to be polite and give me back my sketchbook, hot stuff!"
My face couldn't have reddened more at this point; I was on the verge of laughing and bursting into tears. I hastily shoved the sketchbook at her in an extremely obedient manner; which she took in her hands.
My reaction indulged her, and she started laughing light-heartedly; the longer she laughed the longer the vessels in my heart would tingle in reply. I started to relax as I finally pulled my hand away from my mouth and I joined in on her laughing: I swear I could feel the watering of my eyes increasing as I went to a higher vocal.
We finally gained our composures; I stared shyly at her as I could feel my fingers starting to fidget at an automatic pace.
"So, Mr. Barista? I better get going, I don't want my parents to worry; anyhow…" her eyes glowed with mischief, "I could just tell them a feline friend was keeping me held back."
Oh! she had come for revenge, alright! My eyes went to linger at the apron I was wearing, it was white with a black cat plastered on the pocket and just below the cat. The words 'feline friend' were embellished in black.
"Vengeance is sweet, is it not?" she said sassily with her hands on her hips.
"Indeed, Pur-incess!" I shot back simpering innocently.
She merely rolled her eyes at that nickname.
"Don't like the nickname, Pur-incess? Well, maybe you could get rid of it by telling me your real name, then." I said keenly.
"Oh! That's it, is it? Okay, then, my name is- "she came to a halt and smirked, "I'm afraid I cannot tell you, only time will tell you!"
I dramatically clapped my left hand to my heart leaning backwards in defeat whilst she simply giggled.
"Well, like I said, I better take my leave. So- "she winked, "See you soon, hot stuff!"
My face once again flushed cerise at that nickname, oh! Come on, what was happening to me? It was the second time she used it; I had to see it coming.
She chuckles darkly at my red face in satisfaction, waves briefly and scurries away along the sidewalk. I glance after her as she leaves, and I sigh contentedly.
At the end of the day, I subconsciously tweeted:
Agreste_Adrien:
Mon premier amour ! What have you done to my heart ?