His hair—dark brown and lustrous, was perfectly parted above his thick and furrowed eye brows but a few errant strands fell right above his ocean blue eyes. His pearly white teeth showed each time he laughed and his full lips were well-defined and inviting—so inviting that I wanted to walk over there and kiss him. Just like that.
I was sure I’d be doing him a favor: He could brag to all his friends about kissing a celebrity and I…I wasn’t sure what I would get out of it unless he was an amazing kisser. If he was, maybe he’d agree to come back to my hotel to finish what we started. I was sure a night with him could keep my mind off my first scandal.
I wonder how good he is in bed…He looks like the type that likes to take control, like he could— Stop it! What the hell is wrong with me? He’s just a regular guy…A non-celebrity…
I heard his deep laughter again and turned around to examine him once more. I tried finding a flaw, any flaw—an outlier eyelash, an uneven hair line, an untamed facial hair—but I couldn’t find one. Not a one.
He was perfect.
He looked like he belonged in Hollywood, like he could give all the other heartthrobs a run for their money.
He noticed me watching and smiled at me, raising his eyebrow.
I tried to pretend I was more interested in the picture that was hanging above his table, but out the corner of my eye I saw him lick a wisp of whip cream from his upper lip and my entire body quivered.
I turned back towards the barista and saw that she had yet to produce my coffee. “Why is it taking you so long? Are you confused? It’s not like this place is crawling with customers!”
“I’m sorry ma’am. I’m going as fast as I can,” she added a caramel drizzle to the top of my drink and handed it to me. “Your total is $5.85.”
I handed her my credit card and she swiped it. Then she swiped it again. And again.
“Um, do you have another card, ma’am?” she practically whispered. “My system doesn’t recognize this one.”
“It’s a black card. Every system recognizes it.”
“I’m sorry. Ours doesn’t seem to… Do you have cash maybe?”
What is she trying to say?
“Swipe the card again,” I crossed my arms.
“It’s still giving me the same error ma’am,” she handed the card back to me and lowered her voice. “There’s an ATM outside if you want to check—”
“I can afford the damn drink! I don’t need an ATM! I need you Fayetteville people to get with the times and—”
“I’ll pay for it,” leather jacket guy handed the barista a ten and flashed his smile again, nearly melting me on the spot.
Say thank you…
“I hope you don’t expect me to say thank you,” I grabbed my Frappuccino and stormed away.
I lifted the handle on the exit door, but it didn’t open. I leaned into the door with my shoulder but it wouldn’t budge. I kicked at it a few times, and then I stepped back and lunged into it, cursing when it showed no resistance.
I heard the employees softly snickering from behind the counter—“Can’t she read?” “Why is she doing that?” “Blondes are dumb!”—but I ignored them.
I lifted the handle one last time, kicking the door as I did it, but my other foot gave way and I fell onto my back, splattering coffee all over the parquet floor.
“Oh my god! Are you alright, ma’am?” the barista shouted from across the store. “Nobody move! She might try to sue!”
I reached up and touched my wig, making sure it hadn’t slipped off. My back instantly ached, but I didn’t feel like getting up. I knew I looked stupid and I needed a chance to collect myself.
This is not my life…This is not my life…
“I think she’s okay,” someone touched my forehead. “Do I need to call 911?”
Did I hear 911? If I get taken to the hospital, I can put off meeting my mother for a lot longer…I can act like I have some type of mystery disease and get airlifted back to New York. Then everyone will feel sorry for me, forget all about the scandal, and fall in love with me all over again. Yes! Yes! Yes! They should call 911 and I should—
I opened my eyes and saw leather jacket guy looking down at me. I completely forgot my plan.
“Are you okay?” he looked into my eyes.
Jesus…
“No.” I snapped out of my trance and sat up. “No, I am not okay and I don’t want your help. Go back to sipping your coffee or whatever you were doing.”
He reached for my hand anyway and helped me to my feet. One of his hands was around my waist, steadying me, and I could feel a sudden shock of energy coursing through my veins.
He seemed to be asking me questions but I couldn’t make out any of the exact words. I was too busy gazing at him, wondering if he was even real—if I should take my chance and kiss his lips before he disappeared, if I should—
“I’m going to let you go now, okay?” he looked down at me and smiled again.
You can’t be from Fayetteville…
I nodded and he released me.
He strolled over to the counter, grabbed a new drink, and handed it to me. “She made you a brand new one. Are these your shades?” he picked up my Chanel frames from floor.
“Yeah…” I stared at him a few more seconds before putting them back on.
“All you had to do was push,” he walked to the door and held it open, “the word is right there…”