I had been dating that cafe for a long time.
The Treehouse Cafe was only a few blocks away from my apartment. It was a small place, with a comfortable appearance, and I could smell the coffee from afar. If I had let my addiction to the drink guide me, I would have visited the place ages ago. But college took most of my time, and all that was left for me was the smell on my way, and settle with my poor excuse of a coffee.
On a cold Thursday afternoon, I decided I needed a break.
I walked from my building to the café. It smelled even better inside. The place was entitled to its name: wooden floors and walls, just like the round tables and the chairs. On the booths by the windows, soft looking pillows lay on the seats. The café was decorated with small colorful flowers, the kind you would find in a garden, or a meadow.
If you could ignore the noise of the big city around it, you could pretend you were in an isolated place, away from all the rush. A place where you could just sit and drink a cup of coffee, putting all your problems on pause.
Near the counter there were three people waiting on the line. I stood behind the last one a picked up the menu, choosing between all the delicious options of drinks until it was my turn to order.
"Good afternoon, " said a feminine voice. "Ready to order?"
"Yes, I'll have a…" The words were erased from my mind the moment my eyes laid on the girl in front of me. She was simply the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her orange hair fell in waves down her shoulders. Her skin was creamy, her lips, full and reddish. Her big eyes had an amazing tone of green, like two emeralds.
She lifted an eyebrow, probably because I stared at her with my mouth hanging open, like an idiot, for way too long.
"Coffee," I managed to finish. Yeah, it was kind of obvious to order coffee in a café, but I was in chock. My heart raced and jumped like a drunk athlete. So I completed my order with the fist kind of coffee that came into my mind: "Black."
She looked at me as if she asked if I was ok.
"Right." She quickly wrote down my order. "Name?"
"Stiles," I answered, but I was so nervous that it may have sounded like "sdalz".
She frowned. "Sorry?"
"Stiles," I repeated, slower. I wondered if she thought there was something wrong with me. I wanted to slap myself.
"Anything else?"
"No, no." Just your name, maybe your number?, I wanted to say. I paid for the coffee and watched her as she collected my change. As she gave me my money, she also gave me small, closed lipped smile. There was nothing special about that smile; she probably gave it as a courtesy to all of her clients. Still, my heart stopped for a few seconds, then continued beating like that athlete had fallen down the stairs.
My god, she's beautiful.
She passed my order to the guy preparing the drinks and asked me to wait on the side. My eyes stayed on her as she spoke to the next client in line. She was beautiful, and that was all my brain could process. I was almost upset when the guy gave me my coffee.
"Here you go," he said.
"Thanks," I murmured, grabbing the paper cup with my sweaty hand.
I sat on one of the booths by the window, where I could look at the rainy afternoon outside and at the girl at the counter. She served two more clients, giving them the same polite smile. I wondered how would a real smile from her would be. I wanted to make her laugh.
At that moment, I promised I would always have time to come back.
Xxxx
On Saturday, I went back to the Treehouse Cafe. I had tons of things to read and study, but still I decided I had to see her again. I took a book with me, so I could watch the strawberry blonde while doing something useful.
I could feel the smile appearing on my face as I neared the place. The anxiety made my heart beat faster. A few more minutes and I would see…
My smile vanished. She wasn't there. In her place, a pretty brunette served an old lady. I felt like crying like a spoiled kid. She wasn't there.
I bought my coffee and went back home. I didn't see the point of staying if she wasn't there.
Xxxx
I tried to go back there sooner, but the free time only came on Thursday.
In this meantime, she broke into my mind constantly, and forgetting her became impossible. This urge to see someone was news to me, especially when it came to someone I had only seen once.
On my way to the Treehouse Cafe, I couldn't help feeling stupid. What I was doing was weird and ridiculous. I was acting like a freaking stalker.
Why did I have to see her so much? What did that girl have?
There wasn't a line when I came in. I neared the counter and looked at the menu as I waited for someone to come. I must have been looking way calmer than I actually was.
And then she showed up.
Her cheeks were flushed and she had a large smile on her face. Her hair was loose and messy, but still very pretty. She seemed to be recovering for a serious laugh attack. Oh my god, you´re beautiful, I thought.
I gasped. My heart danced in my chest and I was paralyzed. She was so perfect that I began to fear that, if I looked too hard, I would go insane. But I couldn't look away. She was like a ray of light, shining its way into a dark room. Like the first flower to blossom on the Spring; it was impossible not to stop and admire her.
"Afternoon," she said with the weak voice of someone who had just recovered their breath. "Ready to order?"
"I'll have a coffee…. Black. " I knew I should have said 'good afternoon' or a simple 'hello' first, and I wished I had ordered something else. But I could barely think straight. I took a deep breath to calm down.
"Your name?"
"Stiles," I answered, slightly disappointed she didn't remember it. But why would she? I had only been there once, I had no idea how many clients she had taken after me.
"Hm, cool name," she commented absent mindly. I blushed and smiled like a little boy.
"Thanks," I said, glad we were having an interaction other than the usual attendant costumer routine.
"Anything else? "She asked, and our moment was over. I repressed a sigh.
"No, just the coffee."
"Alright, just a minute." Since there was no one else in line, she went to prepare my order herself, and I watched her as she did so. She kept letting out this little giggles, like she wasn't fully recovered from the laugh attack. I wanted to know what was so funny; I wanted to laugh with her.
She handed me the steamy paper cup. I paid for it, never taking my eyes off her flushed face. The smile she gave me along with my change was a little more genuine. I smiled back, I couldn't avoid it. And I could have stood there smiling at her for hours, but I decided that, go sit down was a better idea.
I sat in the farthest booth, from where I could see the counter. Since no one else came in, after a few minutes standing there, the girl went to the back room. I sighed and grabbed the book I had brought with me. I read about two pages when I finally heard the sound I was wishing for.
She was laughing.
I smiled to the book on my hands, not giving too much attention to the words, just delighting me with that sound. She laughed like a child.
The sound stopped: she was probably containing herself. I missed her laughter immediately, but I was happy. I didn't know what made her laugh so hard, but I was surprised when I realized that, if she was happy, so was I.
Xxxx
"Again, why am I doing this?" Scott asked me and himself.
"Because I'm in love," I answered. An overstatement, of course; it's madness to fall in love with someone without even have a real conversation first. I didn't even know her name. I didn't know what she liked, where she came from, what did she do besides working at the café. Summing up: I didn't know her, not even a bit. That thought made me a little sad. Maybe I was crazy, because I really liked her.
Scott rolled his eyes, as if it was clear that I was not making sense.
"Yeah, of course you are."
"Dude, this is serious. She´s just…" I didn't finish the sentence. He would know what I was talking about the moment we walked in. "You like coffee, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Then shut up and get in," I said, pushing him through the door. I know it sounds kinds crazy wanting so much for my friend to meet the girl a had a crush on, but Scott and I were like this.
It was Thursday, and I knew I would find her by the counter. Even so, my heart raced when I saw her, with that same polite smile on her face. Her long strawberry blonde hair was tangled on a braid that fell on her shoulder, making her look like a renascentist painting.
"Yeah, she's hot," Scott said, pulling me out of my reveries. I almost forgot he was standing right beside me.
I looked at him like he had gotten crazy.
"Hot?!" I half yelled. 'Hot' was too ordinary, too simple; it just wasn't enough for her. It was like watching the best movie ever and say it was 'neat', or eating the best food and say 'it's not bad'. It was so normal and little that it sounded wrong. "Hot?"
Scott shrugged, not understanding my reaction.
"She's pretty." I kept staring at him like I had just heard the most absurd thing of all. He rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to say? You're the one who was a crush on her, not me. Now stop being a drama and go buy me my coffee."
"You go buy your damn coffee," I muttered. It was an automatic response that didn't make sense, since I was the one who wanted to talk to the girl on the counter so bad, and Scott knew that. He arched an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, I'm going."
I got in line and my heart started to race again. I was anxious and excited like a kid waiting to sit on Santa's lap. Except that I doubted a kid would feel that nervous. That girl made me feel so many things at the same time, and I didn't even care.
When the person in front of me got their coffee and left, I took a deep breath and stepped forward. She lifted her big green eyes to me and smiled.
"Hello," she said. None of that standard 'good afternoon'. And that smile wasn't the one she gave as a courtesy to the costumers. No, that smile was meant for me. She had spoken to me, Stiles, not to another guy wanting to buy coffee.
I almost laughed.
"Hey," I said, smiling like an idiot.
"What will you be having?" She asked, still looking at me.
"A black coffee... No, two." For a second I forgot again that Scott was with me, probably watching me act all stupid. "Yeah, two black coffees."
"Okay...," she murmured as she wrote down the order. Then she lifted her eyes and pointed at me with the pen, arching one perfect eyebrow. "Stiles, right?"
Hearing her voice say my name always made me float around the place. I felt like and addict who just had a shot of his favorite drug. I felt like dancing, singing out loud, or just grabbing her face and kissing her. I limited myself to just smile.
"You remembered," I said in an awe.
She just shrugged, unaware of the madness that seemed to take over the guy in front of her.
"It's an odd name. Easy to remember," she said. I nodded, agreeing. "You want anything else?"
"Hum?"
"Anything else?"
I opened my mouth to say no, but decided it was time for me to have some confidence for once.
"Actually, yes," I said. "Your name."
She lifted her eyebrows, surprised by my attitude. Honestly, I was pretty surprised too, but I wouldn't let her see it. She stared at me with slightly widened eyes. Just when I was beginning to regret my decision and to wait for her to tell me something inappropriate, she smiled.
"It's Lydia."
"Lydia," I repeated, just to have a taste of it on my tongue. Lydia. Pretty and delicate; perfect for her. "Nice to meet you, Lydia."
Her laugh was music to my ears. Her cheeks were painted pink.
"Nice to meet you too."
Someone coughed behind me and my time with her came to an end. I paid for my coffees and watched her, blushed face, lips still curved. Our fingers touched when she handed me the chance, and I can't say if the electricity that ran between us was just my imagination. By the way she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and lowered her eyes, I'd say she felt something too.
I grabbed the coffees and walked over to the table where Scott waited for me. I barely felt the wooden floor below me, and I barely heard what Scott told me. My attention was still hers.
xxxx
I imagined and happy song playing loud on the street as I walked to the coffee shop. Soon, the others pedestrians would start dancing and singing like there would be no tomorrow. The party would follow me all the way to the Treehouse Cafe, and they would peek through the windows as I leaned Lydia on one of my arms and kissed her passionately.
I smiled to myself. God, I was so into her.
Unfortunately, the walking party was only in my head, but I felt as happy as I would be if it was true. I was happy because I knew that, once I walked through the wooden door and the little bell attached to it announced my arrival, I wouldn't be just another costumer (though using the amazing coffee as an excuse to keep coming back also worked for me). No, I was Stiles going to meet Lydia, the probable future love of his life. And she would be waiting for me, looking forward to see me come, biting her lip nervously and she sent restless looks to the door.
Yeah, that was just in my head too. The truth was that I would freaking win my day if she remembered my name again.
A girl like her should serve dozens of guys like me every day; completely lost before her beauty, acting like fools, maybe even coming back with the same order just to see her. Lydia was probably used to all the looks and reactions, and laughed at all the dudes getting in line to win her heart.
And I... Well, I was me. With an annoyingly ordinary face, hair that was almost a mess (which was my fault, for never making an effort to tame it, but also it's fault, for never staying in place), dark like my eyes, though my mom insisted in saying they were 'amber'. For me, they were brown. I had nothing especial, not on my face, not on my body (I wasn't that skinny, but I also didn't have the muscles I would like to), nor on my hyperactive personality.
So, my spot on the line wasn't too favorable. Being on the line could be good enough for me.
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Lydia stood by the counter, typing on her phone, and didn't hear the bell ringing. For a second, I asked myself if she was talking to her boyfriend, and that thought was a hard hit on my guts.
Oh, jealousy. It was weird to hate someone I didn't know. Worse, someone I didn't know if existed. I shook my head. I should loathe that girl for all the things she did with my mind, but it was a little too late to pick hate instead of love.
I decided to stop my inner argument and walked to her. She still hadn't noticed me, so I licked my lips, took a deep breath and said: "Hi."
Lydia jumped and almost dropped her phone. She stared at me with wide eyes, and I was about to apologize (and probably run away) when she gave me a smile that almost knocked me down.
"Hey!" She said, out of breath.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, it's okay. I was distracted." She gestured to her phone. I nodded. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and I was forcing myself not to pull the scrunchie and let her hair fall down her shoulders. I wanted to touch those beautifully colored strands, I wanted to know if they were as soft as they looked.
"Stiles?"
"Hum?" I refocused on her face.
Lydia laughed at my reaction (and probably at my goofy face).
"What will you be having?" She asked, but before I could answer, she said. "Let me guess, black coffee?"
I blinked, surprised.
"How do you know?"
She shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal.
"You always order it." I wanted to scream. She knew my name, knew my order. I begun thinking about the possibility that she paid attention to me the way I did to her... Which was completely nonsense. "Is it your favorite type?"
No, you are.
"Ahn... no?" I answered.
Lydia frowned.
"Then why don't you order something else?"
"I don't know." I resisted the urge to wipe my sweaty hand on my pants. I was so nervous was sure I would be leaking buckets of sweat if it wasn't cold.
Lydia nodded, ignoring my nonsense, which I was grateful for. She pushed the menu in my direction.
"Choose another one," she said. I analyzed it, reading the ridiculous amount of coffee types and flavors, then looked at her.
"What would you recommend?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"This is a really difficult decision, are you sure you want me to make it for you?"
I smiled, handing her the menu.
"I trust you."
Lydia looked in my eyes as she took it from my hands. She pursed her lips as her eyes scanned the menu for the right coffee. When she made her decision, she smiled and turned around to prepare it.
"Which one did you choose?"
"It's a surprise," she answered. I waited for her to come back, smiling to myself. Did she choose a type of coffee for everyone in line, or just for the ones brave enough to ask her to? If, on one side, I was not a big fan of how she made me feel, on the other side, I liked who I was when I was with her. Okay, that was our second official interaction, but it was also the second time I acted with a courage (and boldness) I didn't know I had.
Lydia came back with a glass mug filled with what seemed to a creamy light brown coffee.
"Caramel macchiato," she said, handing me the mug. "Go ahead."
I took a sip. The drink went down my throat warming my whole body. I didn't know what a macchiato was, but I loved caramel. I couldn't help but be disappointed at myself for drinking too many black coffees when I could be drinking that heaven sent thing.
"So?" Lydia asked expectantly.
"Oh my god, it's so good," I answered, taking another sip. She let out a small laugh, and when a looked at her, she gestured to my mouth. Of course I had a macchiato mustache. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, blushing.
"I'm glad you liked it," she said as if I hadn't just embarrassed myself.
"So... You picked this one randomly or do I have the face of someone who likes caramel?"
"It wasn't random." Lydia leaned in my direction, like she was about to tell me a secret. "I like caramel."
I could honestly accept that she had chosen that coffee because she had already tasted it a approved it, but because of the look she was giving me, it was impossible for me not to look for a hidden meaning in her words. My hyperactive brain started to connect the dots, looking for an answer.
Lydia liked caramel. She could have thought 'Hum, he must like it too, everybody likes caramel.' On a second hypothesis, a more optimistic and insane one, she could have thought something like 'I could use this coffee to tell him I like him.'
She laughed, looking at me. I had been told before that I make a funny face when I think too hard. Lydia had rosy cheeks and she bit her lip, and I just could not be imagining the hidden message.
"Ah..." It was all I said. My face was hot and probably a lot redder than hers. I couldn't risk telling her I liked her too, because, firstly, I would end up declaring myself and scaring her, and secondly, 'like' had a lot of meanings. Lydia could like me because she simply liked dorky guys, like me, of because she thought I was cool, or (I still doubted she was using that meaning of the word) because she thought I was cute and wanted to jump my bones.
Whatever the meaning was, she liked me. Lydia liked me. I gave the middle finger to all the other dudes in line; I was the one closer to her anyway.
xxxx
My visits to the Treehouse Cafe became the best routine in the history of routines.
Even when my free time got shorter because of my exam week getting closer, my Thursdays afternoons were always books for something different than the books. Every single week, I made my way to the coffee shop and counted the hours until the next week from the moment I left. My "meetings" with Lydia became was motivated me the most to go through that week in college.
The same was I looked forward to see her, she looked forward to see me too.
Every Thursday, I walked through the wooden door and there she was, by the counter. I even though that, with time, I would get used to her beauty, but I couldn't be more wrong; my heart raced every time I saw her, like it was the first time. When the little bell chimed, no matter what she was doing, Lydia looked at me and smiled. It would be a brief moment if she was too busy, but if she wasn't, her eyes would follow me as I walked in her direction.
Our talk became more and more intimate, and the more I met her, the more fascinated I became. Lydia was two years younger than me, and had just started college. She had gotten a full tuition scholarship, having an IQ way above average, a being always on top of her class. She had doubts about her future, not knowing which career to follow. She loved math, dogs, romantic comedies and books. She lived with her mom and worked at the Treehouse Cafe to save money to travel.
It was too easy to talk to Lydia. Everything about her was attractive to me, from her full lips that I was dying to taste, to the way she talked about the things she was passionate about. I could stay there talking to her for hours, but our time was short, I had to go back to my books and she had to go back to work. But when our time together would start to run out, Lydia would leave the counter and bring me something.
Chocolate cappuccino, caramel frappuccino, brownies, cinnamon latte, red velvet cupcake. Everything she got me was incredibly wonderful. I always asked what made her chose that certain thing from the menu, and I always loved the answers. "To warm you during the rain," she once told me, making me smile like the time she said "Because it makes me feel like home." Sometimes she would say something like "Because it's very pretty" or "Because it's cute and sweet", and she would give me that enigmatic smile and I knew she was talking about me. Lydia was smart with her words, unlike me.
My friends always told me I was too damn expressive. They could tell what was going on in my head by the look on my face, and it was as clear as it would be if I had actually spoken. That could be cool sometimes, but it could also suck. It made me an open book, made me say things I would like to keep to myself. I believe that's what happened between Lydia and I. My feelings for her were obviously evident on my face, and she used words to say things I didn't have to.
So she was constantly proving me that she liked me (actually liked), but I knew she would never fall for me. We saw each other once a week, and briefly. It wasn't enough. As for me, well, I had no doubt that I loved her. I dreamed of her, I thought about her all the time, I missed her. It was all new to me: Lydia made me see that I had never really fallen for someone before.
That afternoon I crossed the threshold with a smile already on my face. I was anxious to see her, to hear her voice. I missed her so much that my heart almost exploded when I saw a brunette girl by the counter. I walked to the small like of people forming in front of her, having a hard time believing Lydia was not there, not wanting to believe I wouldn't be seeing her that week.
"Good afternoon," the girl said, giving me a polite smile that I couldn't return.
"Hi, hum..." I started saying, but suddenly her brown eyed widened and she looked at me like I had just told her a hot gossip.
"You're Stiles, right?" She asked, her smile getting larger. "The famous Stiles?"
I blinked, unsure about what was happening.
"Famous...?"
The brunette leaned her head back and let out a laugh that almost made me jump away from her.
"Oh my god, she described you perfectly," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I'm Allison, Lydia's friend."
She offered her hand and I shook it lightly.
"Stiles, but you already know that," I said, giving her an awkward laugh. "So... famous?"
"Oh yeah, Lydia talks about you all the time. It's Stiles this, Stiles that... Sometimes it gets annoying, but most of the time it's really cute."
I smiled as I imagined Lydia thinking about me as she chatted with her friends. Maybe I made her days better just like she did mine. Maybe some things reminded her of me.
"She didn't come to work?" I asked, because, god, I wanted to kiss that redheaded girl.
"No, she got sick, I'm covering for her. Oh, she wanted me to give you her number." Allison grabbed a napkin and a pen, and I watched as she wrote down the number. She handed it to me and I reached out to it eager like a kid going for their Christmas present, but then she retracted it.
"Lydia is my best friend," she said. "If you hurt her in any way..."
"I won't," I hurried to say. "I would never do that. I promise."
Allison studied my face with narrowed eyes, like she was reading my soul or something. I felt the need to shrink and run away, but then her face softened and she finally handed me the napkin.
"You seem nice. I approve it."
"T-Thanks," I stuttered, grabbing it carefully.
"You're welcome," she said. "So, what do you want?"
"What?" I asked, focusing my eyes away from the numbers written on the paper.
"Are you gonna order something?"
"Ah... a caramel macchiato, please."
"Coming right up!"
After grabbing my coffee, I sat in a booth and opened the napkin on the table. I took a deep breath, fished my phone off my pocket and dialed her number, biting at my thumb nail as I waited for her to pick up.
"Hello?" I heard her voice from the other side. It was groggy and a little raspy, but definitely her.
"Lydia, ahn..."
"Stileees!" Her voice became stronger, excited. I imagined a sleepy smile growing on her lips.
"Hey," I said, smiling too. "Allison told me you got sick, are you okay?"
"I caught a cold, nothing more. My boss gave me the day off."
"No, my mom made me some tea and I'm lying under the duvet. I'll be fine by the morning."
"You should go to the doctor, just to he sure."
Lydia laughed lightly.
"He would tell me to do exactly what I'm already doing. It's just a cold, Stiles."
"I'm gonna trust you, so make sure you get better."
"You can trust me," she said. "So, how was your week?"
"Awful, tiring, exams never end and I've never been that close to committing a crime," I answered. "Nothing new."
"You'll survive this. Without committing any crimes, I hope."
"I don't know, Lydia. Everything would get better if I saw you today, now I don't know if I'm gonna make it."
Lydia laughed harder this time, coughing a little after.
"I don't know about you, but I'm already feeling better."
I smiled, running my hand through my hair, feeling my face get hot.
"Me too," I said, and it was true. The tightening on my chest that came from missing her too much slowly disappeared as I talked to her. I felt calmer already; it was the peace I only found with her.
"Think about it this way," she said. "We won't be seeing each other today, but now you have my number and we can talk more often."
I frowned.
"Why haven't we done it before? Like, exchange numbers."
"Honestly, I don't know. We're idiots."
"Lydia, you're literally a genius."
"Oh yeah, you're right."
"I usually am."
Lydia scoffed.
"Just so you know, I rolled my eyes at you."
"I bet you're smiling, too."
She laughed.
"Smartass."
"Am I right?" I asked, picturing her lips curving upwards and showing her perfect white teeth, her cheeks gaining that rosy tone I loved. "Damn, I wish I could see that."
"Damn cold."
"Damn cold."
Xxxx
After that, we became closer than ever.
That phone call had taken our relationship to a whole new level. We weren't just two people meeting at a coffee shop once a week anymore. We were something else. We were something. I smiled every time I caught myself thinking about us, about what we were becoming. More than friends, definitely. I was in love with her, and she... Well, I still had some doubts about that, but I knew she felt for me a fraction of what I felt for her. It could be a big or a small fraction, and honestly, I didn't care. As long as she liked me.
Lydia was only a phone call away from me and that alone was enough to make my days a little better. I could finally share the small moments of joy of my day, ask for support when I got tired, or to just talk about random things. It was simple, easy. Lydia was like a coffee break in the middle of a busy day.
I was with her while she recovered from her cold, comforted her when her dog died, listen to her complain about her job and tell stories of her life. And she was with through my exam week, listen as I whined about my study schedule, laughed when I told her about my adventure at a party on campus (and also laughed at me during my hangover).
I left my classroom after finishing my last exam, ready to go back to my apartment and sleep for a week. But after I locked my front door behind me, kicked off my shoes and fell on my couch, my top one priority was to call her.
"Seriously? Finally!" Lydia exclaimed when I told her the news.
"Yeah, finally," I said, adjusting a pillow under my head. "I deserve a prize for going through this without losing my sanity."
"You did lose it a little bit."
"Yeah, I must have," I agreed. "So..."
"What?"
I bit my lip, gathering courage to finally say what I had in mind. I took a deep breath, ignored the fear of getting a hard 'no' on my face and said:
"So... Now that I have more free time, what if we... I don't know, go somewhere..."
"No!" She interrupted me abruptly and I shut up, cursing myself.
"Ahn..."
"I mean, of course I want to go out with you. I really, really do," she quickly added. "But I can't today because... my mom bought a... fish."
"A fish?"
"She broke her foot."
I frowned.
"She broke her foot while buying the fish?"
"No, she bought the fish then broke her foot, now I gotta take care of them both, it's a mess."
"Ok..."
"But do you mind meeting me at the coffee shop tomorrow night?"
I blinked, completely surprised with the turn that conversation had made, and smiled.
"No, not at all."
"Great! You can meet me there at... seven?"
"Perfect."
Lydia laughed, almost as if she wanted me to know how excited she was.
"Ok, it's a date. See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," I said and we both hung up.
I smiled at the ceiling, trying to imagine how the date would go. Would I have the courage to open my heart when it's just the two of us, face to face, in our moment? If I said the right things would I get a second date?
Sighing, I got up and went to my room. I didn't have to plan how the night would go. As long as she was there, I knew it would be perfect.
xxxx
To say that I was counting the minutes was not an overstatement. I couldn't help look at the clock, just to make sure that time was really passing and that the waiting was coming to an end. Anxiety made my heart race, nervousness made my palms sweat. All of that got worse as I made my way to the Treehouse Cafe. I was freaking out, and I didn't know how to stop.
On the outside, the place had their blinds closed and the lights were off. I took a deep breath and pushed the door, wondering if I would find it locked, but it opened and I entered the place. On the inside, the coffee shop was illuminated by dozens of candles, placed on the tables and on the counter. I gasped. My eyes scanned the place until they landed on the only thing that mattered.
"Good evening," Lydia said with a sweet smile on her lips. She was standing behind the counter, elbows placed on the wooden surface. It was like a normal Thursday: me going to the coffee shop and finding her waiting for me. With a smile that made me hold my breath. But that time the intentions were different, the smiles said other things and the eyes shone brighter. That night promised something big and important, and I could feel it the moment I walked in.
"Good evening," I said, going in her direction, sure she could hear my heart beating.
"Can I take your order?" She asked, looking me in the eyes.
"I..." She was gorgeous with her long hair falling in waves down her shoulders, her lips now painted red and more irresistible than ever. My brain almost could take it. "Can you just come over here, please?"
Lydia laughed and stepped away from the counter, circling it and standing right in front of me. She wore a navy blue dress that ended just above her knees and even with high heels, she was at least a head shorter than me. We had never been that close physicaly.
"You look beautiful," I murmured, completely mesmerized. She smiled.
"So do you," she said. "You hair looks different."
"Yeah, I made an effort." I felt my cheeks get hot. Before I could stop myself, I raised my hand and ran my fingers through my hair, a habit that caused the irreversible mess and that threw away the hours I had spent trying to tame it. "Damn it," I cursed when I realized what I had done.
"It's okay. I like it like this." For my surprise, she raised her hand and #smoothed out the strands that fell on my forehead.
"I think I'm ready to order." I couldn't help myself; she was too close and I was too in love.
"Yeah?"
"Yes. Can I kiss you?"
Her smile faded, but her look got more intense. The green of her eyes got slightly darker; she was saying yes. To confirm what I already knew, she nodded, giving me permission.
I put my hands on both sides of her face and leaned in. Lydia stepped closer and her lips were mere inches away from mine. I zeroed the space between us and kissed her. Fireworks exploded in the sky, sending a rain of colors to an audience, and at the same time, the world was quiet, holding it's breath or going away slowly, leaving just the two of us there.
Kissing Lydia was just the way a imagined, better even. Her lips were firm and gentle against mine. Her skin was soft against my fingertips, her smell was intoxicating. That was the discovery of a new drug, and I was already addicted to her.
We broke apart just so we could exchange silly smiles.
"That was..."
"Absolutely..."
"Can I kiss you again?"
"What do you think?"
I could. And I did.