Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns them.

A/N: This one is pre-read by Loopy Lou and betaed by Nancy. I am thankful beyond words.

So, here we go with the first of my short chappies:

I'm the Fly on the Wall

Chapter 1

An elderly lady and two kids, probably her grandchildren, vacated the table in the east corner. I loved that table, as it gave full view to the whole cafeteria. The wall next to it was my favorite spot to spend hours observing people come and go. A young man approached and took a seat immediately.

Well, of course, no way the table would be unoccupied for too long - the place was crammed that afternoon.

The guy was quite the view. Pretty tall, six foot two, maybe. He didn't look athletic, but something in his appearance showed energy and eagerness for action hidden behind his lazy movements. He had long limbs and fingers, and I wondered if what was in his pants under the belt was long too? I didn't know then; I only knew people said something about the proportions of human body parts being related. Anyway, he was a beautiful sight. He had a pretty face, freshly shaved, and eyelashes that could put a cosmetics model to shame.

The only thing that could beat the eyelashes was the copper colored hair. It was a real mess-charming, though. He reminded me of a kid who needed to be taken to the hairdresser's but stubbornly refused, and his mom had given up. Er, okay, he was not a kid, believe me. All grown up, early twenties, I thought.

He drank coffee from a plastic cup, pink soft lips glued to the cap for a little longer than necessary. Something was distracting him, and he had simply forgot to move the cup away. The guy seemed to be reminiscing, or daydreaming. His lips did not leave the cap for a long time, sucking at the edge absentmindedly. Oh, a girl could enjoy watching that. I wondered why they hadn't attacked him yet. He was what they called eye candy, as far as I could tell.

He stretched his denim-clad legs beside the table and finally put the cup down. Phew, I could guess there was a lot of sugar in that drink, and his lips were rendered sticky and glistening. He closed his eyes and uttered a long sigh. The tip of his tongue stuck slightly out and ran slowly over his upper lip, gathering the sticky coating. A few moments later, he lifted his hand and used his index finger to clean the corners of his mouth, and then licked the sweetness. Arrgh, I wanted someone to kill me right then. I was well aware of the deliciousness.

That simple act of a man devouring sugar was the reason I hadn't noticed someone else watching as intently as I was.

There was another guy, a few feet away. He was debating if he should approach the table, and I could bet he was mesmerized by the view even more than I was.

Wait a minute, I thought, a guy? Wow, the situation could turn out to be interesting.

The other one was shorter and a bit older. Don't get me wrong, not old. Late-twenties, I believed. The guy was built a little bit heavier, and his squared shoulders seemed like military, or maybe a descendant of an aristocratic family. He was statuesque. The golden tones of his hair were emphasized by a black polo shirt. His lips were perfect, as if drawn by an artist.

He was not brave enough to approach, though. It seemed he wanted to take one of the seats at my favorite table, but didn't have the courage to step closer and ask. Go boy, there are two seats untaken. But he just stood there, swallowing gulps of his coke, scratching his neck and blinking a bit too often.

Finally, he found his guts and asked if the seat was taken.

The tall one opened his eyes and gasped. His long fingers disappeared in the pockets of his jacket. He squeezed his eyes closed again for another second, then opened them and raised an eyebrow.

"Please, sit," he said in a hushed voice, and he lowered his head. I realized he was shy, and maybe refusing to talk to a stranger.

The newcomer pulled out a chair and dropped his body with a thud.

"Thank you, you're extremely kind," he uttered, causing the other to snap his head back up and stare at him. They sat in silence, each playing with their cups and not drinking.

All of a sudden, they raised their beverages, took a sip, and licked their upper lips, mirroring each other's acts perfectly. Both pairs of eyes opened wide in bewilderment, both pairs of cheeks turning pink, and the two cups were put on the table quickly. They seemed to wonder where to put their hands, shoving them under the table. They couldn't exactly see where the other's hands went, and when their fingers touched, they jumped in their seats.

I was laughing in my mind – they were so cute – when the newcomer surprised me. He stretched his fingers further and caressed the other one's knuckles. Both of their cheeks turned red, but the golden-haired one was insistent and inclined his upper body so their fingers could entwine.

My imagination feasted on the events before me. We definitely have something here, my naughty inner voice sang.

Imagine my disappointment when the tall one jumped to his feet, removing his hand from the gentle touch, and scratched his head behind his ear.

"Um, need to go." He used the hushed voice again and turned his back. The other guy and I watched his figure retreat toward the exit, and both sighed.

"God, I have to come here more often," the older guy spoke to himself.

I watched him reluctantly leave the table. He went and leaned on the bar, exchanging words with the bartender. Then he left, too.

Okay, I was not going anywhere. The cafeteria was my permanent residence, and these two would be there again, I was completely sure.

A/N: Thoughts?