The guitar's melodic tune weaved through the air into the passerby's ears who, on occasion, dropped a dollar or a few quarters into the empty guitar case. This earned a grateful smile from the guitarist who, in return, began to play with joyful determination, singing a song no one knew though it was beautiful nevertheless. Across the street under blue and white umbrellas that shielded beaming sunlight from fragile skin, I sat idly while sipping a cup of iced water. Its limpid perspiration slithered down the side staining a wet ring into the wooden table. I have been coming here for the past week to listen to his performance. No, I am not a stalker and no I don't have some crazy obsession with him either. He was like a magnet and I the thin slip of metal attracted to him. From his wispy chocolate hair to that scenic smile he flashed to the people who stopped to watch; everything about him was beautiful. I found no flaws or cracks in his charismatic façade that pushed me away but instead I found something else: butterflies that sprung to life upon his glance, the tingle of excitement when he strummed his guitar with skill and I, being the curious lust, wondered what else those long digits could do. His amber gaze swooped upwards and landed on my being which turned frigid and flushed. On occasion I wondered if he thought it was odd that the same boy came every day to the exact spot while he played. Did he think I was strange? Was I some creepy stalker in his eyes who needed to get another pastime aside from perving on street side guitarists? This thought has sent tremors though my body in fear and anxiousness. Maybe I should get a new pastime. I could take up swimming or buy a computer to distract me. After all, I'm sure he's noticed my reoccurring appearance. I sighed softly then took the red bendy straw into my mouth, pulling the water from the cup as well as a small chunk of ice. My eyes once again found their way to the street guitarist as if hypnotized by his music. I had two choices in this matter: one, confront him rather than watch or, two, continue to watch from afar. My head fell into my arm resting on the warm table. My eyes peeling from him to watch condensation slip down my cup. The ice had mostly melted by now leaving maybe three small lumps of ice hovering on the water. Now that I think, I haven't ordered anything but iced water from here. I wonder if anyone else has noticed my weeklong appearance. I plucked my phone from my pocket and checked the time; 5:37 P.M.. He could finish anytime now. Gingerly, I placed the phone on the table and returned my gaze to the sweating cup. "The guitarist?" A female voice asked. I looked up, slightly confused, to a tall woman with long greying hair which had a simple braid slipping to the back. Her green eyes crinkled with age and lines of wear traced on her forehead. "I've seen you here all week, sweetie, I work here." My mouth was suddenly struck with a severe case of cotton mouth as she scrutinized me, "You have a thing for him, don't you?" I was sitting up straight now and peeking nervously to the guitarist. He was beaming at an elder couple who slowly dropped five dollar bills into his case. "His name's Antony." She said, snapping me from my trance by sitting down. Her left arm, I noticed, had a sleeve tattoo colored with black and red ink. Antony... I chanted the name in my head thrice. Just know his name sent sparks spiraling through my heart. It was a name that fit someone like him. "How do you know?" I asked curiously as I nibbled thoughtfully on the straw. "He comes here sometimes... orders an ice water then saunters off doing god knows what." Ice water? That's what I usually purchase... Must be a coincidence. He stays out for a long time in the blistering heat singing with a guitar, he needs a glass of water afterwards. "Why don't you go put a dollar in his case? You come here enough; you should pay as a sort of thank you." I smiled and looked back to Antony. "He'll definitely know I've been watching... I'll be close enough for a possibly bad confrontation..." The woman smiled amused and glanced to him. "Well, he's putting up his things now... Looks like he's finished for the day." I began to stand but she grabbed my arm, not hard but enough to keep me still. "Stay; he might say hello to such a devoted fan." I would have laughed if it weren't for Antony who jogged across the street towards her. "Please, don't." I begged. My body burnt as the distance closed until I felt like I was dipped in molten lava. "Hey, Margo~" Antony said happily and hugged her tightly. The woman, now dubbed Margo, hugged him while keeping a firm grip on my slender wrist. Panic rose within me and stabbed at my limbs. Margo motioned to me in a quick hand gesture then said, "Have you met... ah..." Realizing she hadn't gotten my name, the two stared at me, waiting, but I was struck silent from the fear clogging my throat. Antony furrowed his brows and glanced to Margo with uncertainty who looked disappointed. Then she let me go. "He's-" She began but I was gone before she could finish.
Locked in my apartment, I clutched my hand overmy chest. Margo almost was the cause of my fatal heart attack. Sluggishly, Imoved to my sofa and collapsed onto the plush cushions. I can't go backtomorrow. He might confront me and now he knows what his creepy stalker lookslike. He could call the police to take me away. My body nestled into the crookof the couch, inhaling the scent of years of use. I guess this will be the lasttime I see Antony... A lump formed in my throat forbidding speech. I swallowed totry and wash it away but it remained firm. No, I could go see him still... Maybea different seat that blocked his view of me? Wasn't there a table blocked byanother? A hope sparked within me. What if Margo sees me? Will she force me totalk to him? She didn't seem like the forcing type but I didn't think she wasthe kind to have tattoos either. My head lolled to face the ceiling as my handshoved itself into my pocket after my phone. Finding nothing, I sat up tosearch the remaining pockets. Nothing but lint and my wallet. I stood andfrantically searched the room to no avail. Where is it? I flipped the cushionsover the couch. Nothing. My hands raked through my red hair as I moved to thebowl by the door. I toss my keys in there so my phone may have gotten tossed inas well. It was bare except for the glint of metal apartment keys. I bit my lipthen froze. The table. I never put the phone away because I was in such a hurryto escape. My keys firmly at hand, I raced from the door towards the café.
Hopefully, Antony wouldhave taken his iced water and left so I wouldn't have the trouble of sneakingby him and Margo. As the café grew closer my pace sped to a hasty jog until Iwas panting at the side of my table. I squatted down and peered underneath tothe filthy concrete then did a double check of the top and seats. It was gone.Did some lowlife steal my phone? Anger and sadness pulsed through me. I've hadthat phone since I've lived with my parents... It not only had value as a devicebut sentimental value as well. "Looking for something?" An accented voicemused. I glanced to the side expecting Margo but instead saw Antony smilingwhile waggling my phone. My stomach clenched and my throat shut. Unable tospeak, I nodded dumbly. He extended his hand and I, with trembling fingers,reached to take it. Just as the pad of my fingers touched the plastic it wasyanked away. "Tell me your name first." Antony said, his accent a soft Italian,I noticed. My quaking body nearly melted as he stared down at me with hisheated amber gaze. "T-Theodore." I stammered. Triumphant, he dropped the deviceinto my palm and quickly grabbed my wrist before I was able to run. "Margo toldme you were a runner." He announced sounding amused, adjusting the guitar casein his other hand with a low grunt. Goose bumps rose to attention from histight grip and I took a deep breath inwards to calm myself. "Haven't I seen youaround? Like, everyday?" I tugged panicked. He's going to confront me. He'lltell me how annoying I am and how he's going to have some restraining order onme as soon as possible. "I've wanted to say something but I never got thechance. Every time I finished you were gone as if you were avoiding me..." He soundedhurt which pained me slightly. I wouldn't lie; I was avoiding him. I avoidedhim like the plague until Margo showed up and ruined it. "Anyways, do you likefood?" I glanced to him with furrowed brows. Did I like food? Everyone did thelast time I checked. "Yeah..." I said with a slight smile, amused. He pursed hisfull lips and replied, "What I mean is, would you like to eat food... with me?" Itugging had stopped by now and I was left staring dumbfounded. "What kind offood." I asked slowly, relaxing a bit in his hold which resulted in his owngrip loosening. "The edible kind." He mused. I smiled and nodded quickly,slowing my head to not seem as eager. "Edible food is the best food from whatI've heard." Antony grinned and slid his hand down from my wrist to my hand,lacing his long fingers through mine. My heart soared and the butterfliesreturned with a vengeance, fluttering and kicking about. The tingles I felt ashe played his guitar couldn't compare to the feelings I was receiving rightnow. As we walked, I listened to him titter with full attention. Maybe Margowas right. I should have spoken to him sooner than I had even though thatwasn't really my choice since Margo forced the confrontation. Maybe by now wewould have already eaten edible food together and possibly even had a few morefood dates afterwards. Despite the delay, I'm glad Margo physically made mestay. If she hadn't I would never have had the guts to ever talk to thiswonderful man I have at my side.
