The cold autumn breeze bites at my nose as the door of the coffee shop opens. I sit in the corner booth I've silently claimed as my own. Sipping on my chai tea while I finish my chemistry homework. Chem midterms have been the biggest pain in my ass. Right as I look up I see a tall brunette man walk in. The broodiness visible on his face, dressed in black skinny jeans, a trenchcoat, sunglasses being pushed up onto his hair, even though it's not sunny out. I'm dangerously drawn to him, fascinated by every pore on his face and each stitch on his clothing. I don't think he even took a glance at me.
"Americano, no cream, no sugar" What?! Did he just order a plain black coffee? Who drinks plain black coffee?? Was that an accent? Why do I care so much? Wow he's tall, is he six two?
As he pays and turns back I realise I've been staring at him for far longer than would be proper etiquette. I get a perfect view of his face, rosy cheeks and nose from the cold, pink bitten lips and two bunny teeth. Oh and his eyes, bright green and golden and only then do I realise how beautiful his hair is, shiny and fluffy and frames his face more than perfectly. Before I have the time to nitpick at the chipped polish on his nails, he's leaving. Just like how he entered the store, only this time with a cuppa in his hand, his large hand adorned with a cross tattoo below the thumb. He's gone now and all I have is my homework. But how could I possibly focus when the only thing playing in the back of my mind is his smooth milky pale skin that was near glistening.
18:30
I'm headed out of Starbucks, and each voice in my head is saying something different. But the loudest one is telling me that there is definitely someone watching me. The disturbing chill that goes through my body causes my knees to lock. And then I'm convinced I'm near delusional because I see him right in front of me. Same emerald eyes and pretty pink cheeks. I blink and he's gone again. I brush it off, I'm tired and I'm just crushing on a random stranger. It's fine. I keep walking to the parking lot so I can finally bask in the heater of my car, and then I hear loud coughs, the kind you get when you're recovering from a cold and it has to get worse before it gets better, coming from trees at the sides of the lot. I hear a loud thud on the floor that has to be the noise of a person falling. Foolishly I run straight ahead to make sure no one's hurt. And then I see the pretty boy lying on the floor, skin somehow paler than before, his red apple cheeks and lips drained of colour and his eyelids shut so I no longer see the pretty emeralds.
"Oh my god oh my god oh my god" I drop to my knees and check for his breath, stupid because I cant hear anything over my own pants. Two fingers, not a thumb, below his neck to find his pulse for evidence of life, nothing. Oh my god. At that moment I could swear it felt like a knife when through my gut, tears I didn't know had formed dropping to the ground. That coughing noise again, I look up to see pretty boy coughing up .. water? While his back is lifting off the ground each time he chokes up, the water is dripping from his mouth onto his chin and down his shirt. How can he still look so pretty when he's coughing up all over himself? It isn't until his coughing fit is over and he's groaning while thumping his head back on the grass that I realise I haven't said a word.
"Oh I, um, are you okay? I was walking to my car and heard you- do i need to call an ambulance? I can dr-" He cuts me off. Probably because I was speaking disturbingly fast and far too hectically for him to deal with.
"'M fine love" His voice is raspy, and his accent is charming. He raises himself up from his elbows and his hair falls into place. My eyes linger over his figure, the wet spots on his shirt and the pretty rings on his fingers. Does he have more tattoos? I knew that he had an accent, is it british? I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear him again. "Said 'm fine, I think I should be more worried for you."
"Huh- no I'm fine! Y-you didn't have a pulse. Can I do anything? Are you sure you're okay?"
"You talk a lot. Like an overexcited puppy."
