I named her Africa #Wattys2015

[twenty seven]

It was almost midday.
I had woken up to a disturbingly late
hour in the morning
after failing at pulling an all-nighter
thinking about her.

Last time I had checked my watch,
it had been 4:30am,
so I figured I must have drifted into
heavy sleep to not hear my alarm
go off.

When I got to the cafe, most of our
daily customers were already leaving,
packing their newspaper and
ordering coffee to go with them.

The room smelled like burnt toast
and varnished wood, mixed with
masses of vanilla and chocolate
that swiveled from one direction
to another, as the waiters advanced
table after table.

She was sitting, not on her usual seat,
but rather on a higher, round table
that overlooked the road,
which meant there was no room
for a chair for me to sit on.

As soon as she locked eyes with me,
her elbow was propped on the table
to cover her face, only it did not work
to keep me away,
for I trotted over to her place.

"If I didn't at least have a teeny bit
of respect and gentleness for women,
I would most likely have
spilled your tea cup by now
and asked if you would have
liked to have another drink with me,
but obiously you're too innocent
to even look into my eyes as I speak."

"Fine, do whatever you want,"
she huffed,
"sit dow-"

"Plus, I get the hint. You surely don't
want any type of company since
you sat down at, probably the only
single table in this cafe,
and sorry if I sound rude right now,
but I just can't figure out
why on earth you wouldn't even give
me
one
little
chance...for God's sake, Chia-"

"Faust.
I got it, alright?
you're mad and it'll most likely
get worse if you stay here, so
why don't you go already and
get some orders, do your stuff
around here."

My chest kept rising continously,
staring at her figure scorch fire
and attempt to look strong
was an enigma to my heart
and an enticement to my soul.

Even when she was furious with me
I could identify her face scanning
mine and her fingers twitching
when she pulled her hair back.

"Oh, to hell with it."

My hand reached to feel for
the cup's temperature and,
realizing it was average,
I turned the cup,
careful to not spill it all
on her lap.

She froze in shock,
parting her lips
yet mute, after all.

"Why would you do that?!"

"I'm so sorry," I said under a fake tone, "let me help you to the
bathroom so you can clean up."

I took her hand firmly and guided her to the bathroom, locking the door
after myself.

I couldn't take it anymore,
and her eyes,
risking glances at my lips,
reassured me to go on.