Starting Over: Sometimes Two is Better Than OnePosted: January 14, 2013
**This story was written for the Daily Post Challenge. I hope you enjoy it!
When I went to my favorite hole-in-the-wall coffee shop toting my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, I was expecting to spend a few hours cuddled in the overstuffed chair in the corner. I ordered a cup of black coffee and promptly plopped down, ready to delve into the world of Jane Austen. My recent break up was hitting me hard–I needed to read a good book to get my bearings back.
It was hard. Really hard. We had been together for three years before I discovered that he had been cheating on me. Now that the relationship was over, I needed a clean slate.
I had no idea that then, on a chilly and rainy day in October, everything would change.
I heard the door open just as I was about to start Chapter Four. I braced myself for the inevitable wind that I knew would rush in, drawing my jacket closer to my body. It was a thin jacket, worn down from years of wear and tear. I should really get rid of the thing, I thought to myself. It’s old. I don’t even like it anymore! Why do I keep holding on to it?
In the midst of my train of thought I looked up at the tall figure who had just walked in. The atmosphere of the whole coffee shop changed. Though I could only see him from behind, I could tell that he was handsome–broad shoulders, muscular arms, short brown hair, and though I didn’t mean to look, an ass to die for.
Nice Ass Guy ordered his coffee and turned around. His smile captivated me and I was in a trance. Frozen.
And then I saw her.
Nice Ass Guy must have been here to meet some one. A date. I mean, for all I know it could have been his sister, but her flowing blonde hair and fair complexion was such a sharp contrast against his dark features. It had to be a date. Any courage that I might have mustered up to go talk to him vanished.
Even if I had managed to talk to him before he met is date, who was I anyway? I was nothing compared to her. My brown, mousy hair held nothing to her luscious blond locks. Freckles spattered my face. Awkward or Clumsy might have well been my middle names. I was in good shape, but not like Blondie over there. Damn, she had a rockin’ bod. The only thing I had going for me were my bright green eyes–the contrast with my brown hair made them seem all the brighter. To sum it up though? Not Nice Ass Guy’s type.
Slightly disappointed, I went back to Pride and Prejudice. If Nice Ass Guy wasn’t an option, at least I could live vicariously though Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Occasional fits of laughter would drift over from their table–flawless, chiming laughs–and I would try my hardest not to look up. I was proud–I only looked twice.
As they left, the coffee gained its feeling back and I remained in that chair for the next four hours, silently wishing I had more guts. After that day, I forgot about Nice Ass Guy.
More or less, anyway.
A month later in the same coffee shop in the same chair, I was enjoying Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo. I had been on a classics kick recently. But who walked in? Nice Ass Guy himself.
I looked around. Blondie the Perfect was nowhere in sight. But did I do anything? Nope. I sat there–terrified, glued to my seat, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I tried my best not to stare.
Nice Ass Guy made his way over to my corner–my corner!–and sat in the plush red sofa across from me. I think you could actually see my heart beating, I was so nervous.
Naturally I tried to act as nonchalant as possible. Which means avoiding eye contact at all costs. I tucked my feet under me and stuck my nose deeper into my book. Naturally, my attempt at nonchalance failed. I was awkward and clumsy, nearly dropping my book. I untucked my feet and reached down, the the process kicking the book. It slid across–right next to Nice Ass Guy’s foot. This is not real.
“The Count of Monte Cristo, huh?” Nice Ass Guy said as he reached down and handed me my book. “Nice choice.”
Oh. My. God. He just spoke to me! What do I say, what do I say? Come one, make words!
“Er, thanks,” I muttered, barely audible.
“No problem. I’m Scott, by the way.”
Scott. So Nice Ass Guy has a name.
“I’m Taylor. Hi.” My mind was racing a mile a minute. This could not actually be happening!
“Hmm, Taylor. That’s a nice name. But really, that book is one of my favorites. I love Dumas.”
“You’ve read Dumas?” I asked, slightly astonished. I never would have pegged him as a reader, let alone a guy who reads classics. He didn’t look the type.
“Oh, yeah. The Three Musketeers is my favorite.” My face must have given something away because he asked, “Surprised?”
Without thinking, I blurted out, “Yes.” I immediately regretted it and wished I could take it back.
Scott laughed. A nice happy sound. “It’s okay, I get that a lot. I’m not quite sure why, though.” He smiled. I melted. I was done.
What I expected to be a little chat turned into a conversation that lasted hours. We lost track of time and before we knew it, the coffee shop was closing and it was time to part ways. I was surprised how much in common and the fact that someone who was quite possibly a Greek god continued to talk to me. I was sad to see him go–I knew I stood no chance against Blondie and I would probably never see him again. That’s why I was so surprised when he asked me on a date.
“Y-y-y-yeah, sure,” I replied, confused. Then I accidentally said, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
Scott stared at me, startled and taken aback. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask”
“Oh. This is awkward then. I don’t mean this to be creepy but I’ve seen you before. In this coffee shop a month ago. You were with this blonde. I thought she was your girlfriend.” I was rambling.
“Oh, that was Emma. She’s my cousin, not my girlfriend.”
“Thank god,” I murmured, under my breath. Then I said, “Well, I’ll see you Friday then?”
“Until Friday,” Scott said, smiling at me. We said goodbye and went our separate ways.
I got into my car and just sat there for a solid ten minutes, in total disbelief about what had just happened. This totally hot guy wants to take me on a date. A date! This is not real.
In a matter of hours, my life completely turned around. I had been going to that coffee shop with my favorite books to try to get through a break up. I had no intention of meeting someone. But then it happened, completely out of my control. Well, only because of my clumsiness. Awkwardness has its plusses, I guess.
Maybe starting over didn’t have to be done entirely on my own.