still sunny and bright out, all the clouds in the sky fluffy and white, rain started to pour: drops so thick and hard it almost felt like sleet. i dashed into a coffee shop i’d had no prior intention of visiting: i don’t drink coffee, or eat scones, or like to work on indefinitely incomplete novels in public.
i wiped my shoes on the large mat, letting the door clang loudly behind me, ruffled my fingers through my sopping wet hair, trying to shake off some of the rain.
“unexpected!” yelled the barista from behind the cash register.
“gah, i know!” i replied, and looked around for a place to sit and wait out the downpour, spotting an armchair in a shadowed corner. i went and settled in it, pulled out my phone and sent a text to the friend i’d been on my way to meet, telling him that i’d be late. waiting for a reply i leaned back and looked around. at a table a few feet away, directly in front of me, sat a man with his legs crossed, reading a newspaper. he wore a crisp white shirt with the top few buttons undone and sparkling cufflinks, tailored slate gray trousers, and noticeably expensive chocolate brown leather oxfords. judging by his wardrobe and the briefcase on the floor beside him, he was some sort of executive, maybe skipping out on a meeting or maybe taking a long lunch.
he wasn’t at all my type, and i don’t really have a type, so that’s saying quite a bit. he was too professional. me being an individualist - a creative type that only cares about money when an apple product is updated, or when i’m in the rare mood to splurge on a pair of come fuck me heels (like i had on this day) - i didn’t mesh well with that sort of man. too uptight, too self aware and serious.
maybe he felt me staring at him; he looked up from his paper and at me. his hair was short, dark blonde, parted on the side and held in place by product. he was clean shaven, his tight eyes a dreary hue of blue gray. his high cheekbones led to a strong, square jaw and his lips, bubblegum pink and plump like stung by bees, were remarkable. his tongue flicked over the bottom one and pulled it back, trapping it beneath his upper teeth.
i had the impulse to bite them myself, acted on it by mimicking him, holding my own lip between my teeth. the corners of his mouth upturned slightly at this and i suddenly felt incredibly aware of the fact i probably looked a sopping wet mess. i broke his stare and stood, found the bathroom and disappeared into it.
