Just Us

(1) I Wanna Undress You... With My Eyes

Let me tell you a story about a 22-year old writer who was sitting alone on a table beside the glass wall.

The moon was at its peak at that time of the night. The cars outside the coffee shop were blurry as they all zoomed so fast that they were a bunch of lights. The air conditioning inside made her mid-length brown hair dry. Her eyes as dark as the now night sky fluttered as exhaustion seeped into her body. And her lips chapped due to dehydration.

Like seriously, coffee can make you dehydrated.

That girl, who at times I like to call as myself, had about who-knows-how-many serving of evil, or in layman's term, a coffee. Yet, even as I sipped the last of my cup, my mind craved for the high from caffeine. My body was screaming for sleep, but I would have to settle for coffee if I wanted to make a progress with my novel.

I was on my third project with my publisher after the second novel that I released became a hit, much like the first. Veering off towards the romance-slash-young adult side, I found myself stuck with creating a unique plot that could catch not just my readers' attention but also their hearts. Cue in the aw's and dramatic sighs.

As I sipped the last drop of evil from my cup, I stood up to grab another to help me through the night. It was already past seven and I have yet to meet the required chapters for tomorrow. I went to the counter and pulled out my card.

"Can I get another cappuccino?" I said with a smile.

The girl with obnoxious pink hair behind the cash register frowned at me, and with a firm voice, replied, "No."

I scowled at the girl. I could feel that my eyes were almost slits as I glared up at her. The cashier only reciprocated my nasty looks, if not scarier. Annoyed at the unwavering glare from her, I bellowed, "I'm a paying customer!"

The girl rolled her eyes. "You already had seven cups of evil, Vi. You have to stop, like, right now," the cashier replied.

"But Ash!" I called out her name with a whine. My friend, the cashier, shook her head a couple of times before attending to the next customer.

I stayed put, my eyes darting back and forth from her to my table. The longer I stood there, the louder my mind kept murmuring "coffee, coffee, coffee."  Yet, I snapped out of my trance when I heard the other customer spoke.

"I'd like to have a latte. Yes, with extra whipped cream, please."

I never heard someone's voice as deep and sexy as his that it made me turn my head. I almost whistled when I saw a gorgeous, as I liked to put it, a piece of ass.

The guy, who might be older than a year or two from me, was looking at the pastries on my right side. The guy had to lean over a bit to be able to distinguish the delicacies presented in the display. Thus, I could clearly see the day stubble on his chin, his brown hair swept messily on the side. His brown eyes were light and it mesmerized me longer than necessary.

The hot piece of ass seemed to notice that I was ogling him since he whipped his head towards me. However, I was still surprised that he smiled cheekily even though I was blatantly staring, or should I say admiring, the great view from where I stand.

He straightened himself and with a grin, he suddenly asked, "Can I get you anything?"

I found myself opening and closing my mouth like a fish. Empty bubble came out of my lips and I embarrassingly scurried back to my table without much of a second glance. I willed myself to keep my eyes on my computer screen even though I really really want to undress him. With my fucking eyes.

I blinked a couple times and meditated. My mind then drifted back to my unfinished novel. Focus, Vi. Fucking focus. Then, for some miracle, my fingers immediately went in sync with my brain that I have been typing the whole plot and the character profiles.