DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer and the movie Wicker Park. No copyright infringement is intended.

January 17, 2011

1:32 PM

Ashland Avenue, Chicago, Illinois

I threw the double doors open and found Emmett on his knees fitting a shoe on a customer. He saw me standing behind him in the mirror and narrowed his eyes. I didn't say a word, just gave him one firm nod and headed straight towards the backroom. The exultation of what I was feeling was making me antsy. For days I've been keeping this all to myself and it had built up to where I couldn't hold it in any longer. It needed to be released and fucking actualized. Who better to confess my sins to than my best friend since the fourth grade?

"There you are!" Emmett gripped my hand and jerked me into a hug. The kid was a lengthy little shit, and I had twenty pounds on him—easy—but he was strong, and I couldn't fight against him. I had yet to beat his ass in an arm wrestle. "Where you've been?"

Stalking this girl…you know, the usual.

Taking a step back, I ran my hands through my hair. I could feel myself losing my gull. The reality of what I've been doing was shameful. Well, more than that, it was fucking illegal.

Emmett didn't notice my hesitation, only my disheveled appearance. "You look like shit, my man. I hope she was worth it."

I haven't been able to sleep in days. All my thoughts were consumed with her. It wasn't healthy, not in the least, but it was a reflexive tick, like fucking breathing.

"Listen, Em, I need to talk to you, but you have to reserve all judgment, all right?" I paced the small, cramped space filled with towers and towers of women's shoes.

"Owe, that serious, huh? Who is she?"

A goddess? An angel? Some woman I'm irrationally, insanely obsessed with?

"You wouldn't believe it."

He was only half-listening. I could tell by his lack of focus on me and completely on the shelves. "Betcha I do. Hell, I probably even know her. What's her name? "

"That's the thing."

That surprised him. "You don't know her name?" I shook my head and he scoffed. "Oh, man."

"I know she's a dancer."

His eyebrows touched his hairline. "You mean, like a stripper?"

"No, shithead. Like a real dancer."

The first day I followed her into the studio and watched her, something happened to me. It was abrupt and irreversible. Everything stopped as my perception of this world was permanently altered. She moved with an elegant grace, long legs, and fluidity that no woman around her, or before her, possessed. I felt something powerful and unexplainable in those moments as she danced. It caused my heart to sputter and my mind to go adrift.

I was mesmerized by her...And yet, still too much of a pussy to go up and introduce myself.

"Oh, man, I love a dancer's body." Emmett was making crude hand gestures and obscene expressions. "Ooh."

"But her face…her eyes…are like," I couldn't think of a description other than fucking amazing, heart-stopping nonsense, "…wha…and her skin is like…gah." God, I wanted to touch it. I wanted to kiss her lips. Then I patted my stomach, feeling those God-damn butterflies start that fluttering shit again. "She just makes me feel all…"

Emmett laughed. "She makes you what, more inarticulate than usual?"

I shrugged.

"You, my man, are obsessed, which I don't understand." He grabbed the shoes he was looking for and headed back out towards the front. "I mean, why focus on one woman with so many options out there? Like my customer, she has great legs, and my cashier, Jessica," he pointed and objectified, "there is something about her. Then there is the brunette in the window."

I glanced up to see the red coat and yellow scarf. Everything ceased. My back pressed up against the wall, I tried to breathe in deeply through my nose, but my fucking lungs were locking up on me. It was her, and those beauiful eyes flashed up to mine. It was brief, but we connected. She smiled and I froze, unable to do a damn thing.

Emmett looked back at me. "Eddy, what's wrong, you all right?"

"I…" My gaze never left her, until she opened the doors and walked in. I fucking panicked, right then and there, stumbling over my feet into the backroom.

Emmett followed. "You got a thing for the brunette, huh?"

There was a space between this rack of shoes that gave me a sense of obscurity, but still a decent view of the front of the store. That was where my stalking tendencies came in handy.

He laughed. "What are you doing now?"

She was here, more gorgeous than ever, and less than twenty feet away from me. I needed to stop watching her and go fucking talk to her. It was now or never.

"Em," I tossed my coat on the ground and held out my hand to him, "give me some shoes."

"Shoes?" It didn't take him long to catch on. He smiled and pulled down a random pair. "We've got lots of shoes. Here, our best seller."

"Thanks, man."

He gave me an encouragement pat. "Good luck."

I took a deep breath and fixed myself in the mirror in front of me. Fuck! Emmett was right, I looked like shit. My hair was an unusual shade of red today—and damn, when was the last time I combed it? Beanies were not an appropriate substitute for personal grooming. But whatever, can't dwell it now, the shit was a lost cause.

It's now or never.

She was standing by the far wall of shoes with her back facing me. Her hair was wavy today. I noticed that first off. Then I took note of her boots. They were a black with a dull shine, like she had them for a long time, and they went up to her knees. A patch of silk ivory was showing between the hem of her coat and the top of her boots. It wasn't provocative in anyway, but fuck me if my mouth didn't go dry.

Shit, shit, shit…I needed to say something.

"Um," I leaned in close and cleared my throat, "can I help you?"

"Yes." She turned around, and those eyes, such a warm brown, burned into me. "The shoes in the window. The black ones with the red soles. I would like to try them on."

I caught a hint of an accent, Italian or French, maybe? Regardless, it made her ten times more interesting, and behind that sexy no bullshit expression of hers, I couldn't quite fathom how fucking beautiful she was— inside and out. All I could do was just stare at her lips as they moved, and try with all my might to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

"Black and red. Got it. I'll go get them. They're in the back." I went to leave, but stopped to clarify. "Because that's where we keep them…" I held up the box in my hand, "…the shoes."

She nodded slowly.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

As I rushed to the 'back' to get these fucking 'shoes' because that's where we kept 'them', Emmett called out to me. "Eddy, you might want to ask the lady what size shoe she wears."

"Right." I spun back around and walked up to her. "What size shoe, ma'am?"

"Eight in a half."

I grinned. "Like Fellini."

"Right." She turned away offended, or bored. I couldn't tell.

I blathered on. "Like his movie, not his shoe size. I don't know his shoe size, obviously."

Again, she nodded slowly, as to appease me, but my attempt at flirting fell flat. Now I just felt like a dumbass, and salvaging this train wreck was going to be next to impossible.

"Eight in a half," I repeated. "I'll be right back."

When I got into the stockroom, I was in full on panic mode. I couldn't believe this shit. One shot, that's all I had, and what the hell was I doing with it? Insulting her, I guess. As if stalking wasn't bad enough.

"What was that?" Emmett came back a moment later.

"Fellini? What the hell was I thinking?"

He was a famous Italian director, which I thought she would get the reference, but that was an asshole assumption. Everything I've done thus far has been a disaster.

"I have no idea." Emmett shook his head and scowered the aisles. "But you were right about one thing. God, she's beautiful." He bent down and peeked through one of the shelves at me. "And you, my man, are an idiot."

I rubbed my forehead until that shit was sore. He was right. I was too fucking inept and my socialize skills with women were that of a prepubescent boy. It was embarrassing. And it wasn't like I hadn't talked to a woman before, I had, many times, but this one was different. Every intelligent thought left in my head vanished into thin air. She stupefied me. I needed to get my shit together—and fast!

"All right, since you've obviously blown it and she obviously hates you, how about you let the master take a shot at her?"

"Shut up. Give them to me." I snatched the box from his hands.

"Just remember, Eddy," Emmett squeezed my shoulder, "you're not funny."

Shrugging the asshole off, I took one last deep breath to calm my nerves, and walked out to her. My hands were shaking, but the box stayed steady. I can do this, I told myself over and over again.

She was seated on a circular sofa. One of her boots was off, showcasing her slender legs, and that chaste taste of her skin almost did me in. The pounding of my racing heart kept me focused as I counted the beats. One hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three, and one hundred and four, and then so on and so on.

"I've got them." I approached her, my voice coming out croaked and raw. "Black and red, just as you requested."

Her eyes stayed on me as I crouched down beside her and opened the box. She lifted her leg up and rested her foot on my knee. This zapped the air from my lungs and I felt lightheaded. She smelled good, so dangerously close now, and I tried my damndest to not glide my hand up her calf. My heart was going at speed I could longer keep up with. I was a beat away from losing the last bit of my sanity.

"Okay," I said out loud, but mostly to myself, taking the shoe and slipping it on her right foot.

My thumb grazed her ankle…fuck! She was soft. I gulped loudly, keeping my gaze on the floor and away from her. And like a merciful executioner, she removed her leg from my knee and got up from her seat. She was somewhere behind me, but I used this opportunity too fucking breathe. The air came out in a steady whoosh.

What is she doing to me?

I wasn't the type of guy to go this gaga over a girl. My focus has always been on other things, like my photography. That was my one passion and real true love. Not to say I didn't enjoy the company of a woman from time to time. I'm a man after all, and that part of my psyche was still active, but pursuing a full time relationship wasn't a part of the grander plan.

That was until I saw her dance.

Forty-two seconds had passed and she'd been out of my sight for too long. Panic arose from my chest and I stood up to locate her. She was at an arm's length inspecting the black and red in the mirror. I got behind her, not trying to be obvious how much she affected me, but even I could see through the reflection how I was failing miserably. She would have to be blind not to see it.

"What do you think?" I asked.

She faced me. "They're too big."

"Too big? Really?" Crouching back down, I grabbed the other shoe out of the box and read the sole…what? "Emmett," I looked over my shoulder at him and he was at the counter hitting on his fucking cashier, "these are nine and a half's."

"I'm sorry," he said with a smirk. The asshole wasn't sorry. "That's the smallest size we have."

"Oh, well," she waved me off and started to put on her boot. "Too bad."

She was leaving. Shit! Fuck! No, God damn it, I couldn't let her…not yet, not before I…speak, dumbass!

"Um, well, not necessarily, we can order these for you. Right, Em?" He did a half shrug, and I looked back at her with pleading eyes. She already had her purse over her shoulder. "Make it a special order. And if you just leave me your name and number, I can call you personally when we get them in."

She wasn't even paying attention to any of the shit I was saying, until she gave me a dead on stare and said without an ounce of affection in her tone, "Do you always make it a habit to spy on people?"

My whole body went cold…and for the fifth time that day I couldn't breathe. However, this was like being strangled or kicked in the stomach.

"What?"

"Are you really going to tell me that you're a huge fan of modern dance?"

Oh, god…she fucking saw me?

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

"Look, I've never done anything like that before." I sounded desperate and useless, even to my own ears. She smiled politely but I knew she thought it was all bullshit. She took the shoe box from my hands and started writing on its lid. "Honestly. Please, just let me take you out for a cup of coffee and explain."

"I don't think so."

"I promise to stay on my side of the table."

She handed me the box and stood up. "Just call me when the shoes come in, okay?"

Out of all the things in the world to fucking say to make her stay or give me a second chance, I could only manage with one last pathetic plea.

"I'm not what you think I am, okay?"

She didn't speak another word, only giving me a sympathy smile as she walked out the door.

I stood there in the middle of the store, just fucking gripping the shoe box and replaying my stupidity over and over in my head. I blew it with her. Even if she did come back for the shoes, I would never be able to prove to her that I wasn't some crazy, obsessed stalker.

"Damn it!"

I wanted to bang my head up against the nearest wall, but for now this fucking shoe box will have to do. Relinquishing my grip, I glanced down at the lid and saw she'd left me more than just a fake number.

Tomorrow night. 6pm. Café Karma on Fullerton.

Now you don't have to follow me.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying the twific so far. I'm following the movie somewhat closely with some of the dialogue. It's like canon. However, all of his inner ramblings I pretty much made up all on my own. See you all next week.

To my girl, B…one day, sometime soon, I am going to come up to California and kidnap you. Scouts honor.