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Chapter Three
There is a jingling when I open the door of the café. I get inside the air conditioned room and breathe a sigh of relief. No one looks up; they all are busy either doing their work or chatting. I make my way to the counter and ask for a latte and blueberry muffins. It’s 7.30 pm and I’m on my way from Joey’s to home.
Joey is the owner of the mechanical shop I work into and a scumbag. The only reason I have been working there so far is, I love my work and his shop is one of the best in town and he pays well. But he takes advantage of me because he knows my weaknesses, which are money and machines and makes me work for hours than necessary. The guy from the counter breaks my train of thoughts and hands me my orders. I pay him and skim through the crowd for a vacant seat. I find one at the far corner of the café and see a girl sitting there, typing furiously at her keyboard, oblivious to everything surrounding her.
Without noticing my moves, I slowly take steps to her direction. She doesn’t notice me though. She’s fixated on her laptop screen. Reaching her table I clear my throat. She still doesn’t look up.
“Excuse me!” I croak awkwardly and clear my throat again. She looks up for a second and I feel my breath catching in my throat.
She looks at me through her amber depths with a glint of blankness in them and I feel my knees buckle. Her long auburn curls fall to her waist, her golden pools are surrounded by long dark lashes, her small pointy nose is crunched up in an irritated fashion and her plump lips are held by her pearly white teeth. She surely is a sight to behold. Her bewitching beauty can put even the angels to shame. Not that I ever personally met any angel or something. I see her lips part and she says something, but nothing reaches my ear. I then see her waving a twenty dollar bill before my face in a slow mo, every activity around me seems to happen in a snail’s pace. Wait! Am I having a heart attack? Why my heart is pounding so fast? Why everything is so weird around me? I blink and everything becomes normal. I look at her face and panic is imminent there.
“Are you alright? Can you hear me?” she asks in urgency. Oh God! Even her voice sounds heavenly.
“Are you alright?” she asks again. “Huh?”
“What’s wrong with you? Are you not feeling well?” she asks frowning. “Yeah yeah.. I’m fine! Thanks.” I vocalize lastly.
“Okay! Here take your tip.”
“Why would I take tip?” I ask looking down at her hand and she’s holding those bills to my direction; then it hits. She thinks I’m a waiter and asking for my tip! I hear someone growling. Oh it’s me of course!
“Do I look like a waiter to you?” I ask glaring at her, suddenly angry.
“Then what do you want?” she asks absently. I look at the latte and muffins in my hand and then at her. I open my mouth to say something, but refrain myself.
“Never mind!” I say shaking my head. She shrugs and gets back to whatever she was doing as if the whole ogling and waiter-tipping scene didn’t just take place.
I look from the corner of my eyes around the café and no one seems to have noticed anything and even if they did, they don’t care. Taking a last glimpse and a snap-shot mentally of her exquisiteness, I practically run out of there.
I’m so not ever coming back to this place again.