Henry Cavill Fantasies

Cafe Cavill

Bringing the straw to her lips, she sucked in a mouth full of lemonade before releasing the straw and swallowing. In her right hand was her phone, the brightness all the way up since she was outside.

She had just taken a picture of her latest work in progress to send to her good friend Leslie. On the table before her laid a sketchbook, a pencil, and eraser, and her muffin she had left untouched. Her dark eyes looked from the open book with a woman half drawn to the picture on her phone of the exact drawing.

Why did everything look better on camera than in her sketchbook she wondered. It was true, in the photo, her drawing looked beautiful and like someone else had done it. You can barely see a single flaw other than that it remained unfinished. The actual thing, however, looked like a two-year-old did it.

She flipped over the sketchbook as a group of new arrivals passed by, being directed to a large table just opposite her's. It wasn't that she was embarrassed by her work, she just didn't want strangers criticizing her unfinished work.

Ignoring a few of their curious glances, she returned her attention back to her phone. She sent the picture to Leslie, turned off her phone and decided to get back to work. If she wanted to finish this before she left, she'd need to stop procrastinating.

"Is the muffin alright, ma'am?"

She looked up from her drawing to see the exact same waitress that had led the group of people over to their table now standing at her's. Confused at first, she noticed the waitress was pointing toward something on her table. She looked over the sketchbook to see the muffin and mentally slapped herself.

"Yes, it's fine," she said with a nervous laugh. "I'm just trying to finish this, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's completely fine," assured the waitress with a small laugh. "I just wanted to make sure it was alright. Would you like something else then? Perhaps a refill?"

"Perhaps," and then she looked at the muffin. "And maybe something to put that in since I guess I won't be eating it anytime soon. If you don't mind."

"No of course not, I'll get you a box right away and that refill as well."

Slurping down the rest of the lemonade, she hands her the empty glass and then watched as the waitress walks back inside the little cafe. She's nice, she thinks to herself, her gaze lingering a little longer on the cafe's entrance before falling back to the lead smeared paper.

She lifted her right hand to look at it. "Nice," she says out loud as she realizes her hand is now black.

"Nice indeed," says a voice from behind her. She jumps slightly in her chair, nearly dropping both her pencil and sketchbook. Her right hand comes down on the table, her knuckles scraping the edge. "Ouch, that had to hurt. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you-"

"No, you're fine," she assures the gentleman. She placed down her book and pencil and the examines her now throbbing knuckle. No blood, so that was a good thing.

"Your hand alright?"

She finally looked up at the stranger and froze. Okay, how had she not recognized that voice? Was it cause he sounded different in person than he did in videos and movies? Of course, he sounded different than he did in movies, in most movies he spoke with an American accent.

His lips twisted into a beautiful smile, curling back to reveal his teeth. She noticed his blue eyes, with a patch of brown on the left, were sparkling when he smiled. He knew. He knew she was currently star-struck at the sight of him.  He must have gotten it often.

Mentally shaking her head, she finally closed her mouth, which she had been unaware that it was open in the first place. "Sorry," she dropped her gaze but continued to smile sheepishly. "What did you say?"