OF DEVIL´S URINE AND FRECKLED CHEEKS
Each August, before the leaves morph into the colour of her hair, the Evans family's youngest becomes a short-time regular at the Beans ´n Cream Café with either a boy or a girl attached to her hand.
She comes home from Uni. Harvard, Boston -Sirius has sing-sung into his ear last August, accidently steaming his glasses. That is about all he knows about her, besides her order; Turkish coffee, black, without milk, sugarless, vomit-motivationally gross. Despite her bad taste in coffee, James thinks the redhead fascinating. Refreshing as a stream of sun in this very grey and cloudy neighbourhood.
Evans isn´t exceptionally beautiful by all means; she had freckles crowding all the wrong places, a sniffer too big and lips too thin. Yet once he looks at her, he doesn´t easily look away. There´s an energy in those lime green eyes only a child ones on Christmas morning can match.
Every time she dips into the shop, high-necked, confident, but anything else than stiff, and orders the devil´s urine with an American-washed English accent, she leaves him in a state of love-sick-coma. Frankly, it does not go unnoticed. Not by his best mate slash co-worker anyways. Buddha help him, it has gotten to the point Sirius steals or accidently picks up Evans´ number and saves it on his iPhone. James never calls it, though. He keeps it in his Phonebook as a souvenir.
Until, one day, Sirius has it to up here – meaning directly under his hairline – with his ball-less behaviour. So he nicks his phone and calls. Not without James inelegantly straddling his back, clawing for the gold-edition iPhone 5 with the very frightening name gracing it´s screen, whilst the pricey possession bhoops like a heart monitor.
Between outside and the shop, a ringing melody sounds. Both baristas still. Oh bloody hell, NO. Evans stands, framed by the door, in all her glory with RayBans hiding her eyes and a still ringing Samsung in her hand.
His best mate has the audacity to hang up. James drags off his back. He feels drops of sweat seeping from his pores as her fingers tap the screen. A second later, ´Mmm Whatcha Say´ fires off in Sirius´ fist.
He shoves the phone in the fumbling hands of it´s owner, chirping: "Yours!" and then slithering into the backroom. Free fingers comb through ringlets of his hair, while Evans stares at him through dark blue lenses.
"Umm, h-hi I´m James. James Potter." He says with trained confidence and stretches a hand over the counter.
Confused yet amused, she grips his hand. "Lily."
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