not him // d.s

1. first sight

I swiftly walk down the street, keeping my eyes away from wandering towards others as I make my way towards my favorite coffee shop. I reach the front and push the door open, hearing the familiar sound of the bell which signals someone is entering.

I quietly walk through the silent coffee shop, finding the seat I routinely visit every morning. Pulling the seat out in order to give me enough room to slide in makes a loud squeaking against the wooden floor, causing a few heads to turn my way. I nervously sit down, placing my head down on the round wooden table which sat in front of the chair. My checks blush a light pink and my mind begins to race as I feel eyes watching me.

After a minute or two, I lift my head off of the cold table, grabbing my book bag reaching for my favorite book which has somehow made its way to the bottom.
Setting the thick book down on the table, I remove the bookmark and begin reading a story that I've read at least a million times before.

Or at least I was going to, until a loud laugh distracts me from the words printed on the page. I quickly look up, confused by the sudden disruption in the incredibly silent coffee shop. My eyes land on the person to whom the laugh belongs, his hands covering his mouth as his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. I can't help but giggle at his embarrassment. The young boy is sitting with four other boys, all seeming to be good friends. For a minute my mind races in jealousy, seeing all of his friends chuckle at his disruption. One of them lightly punches his arm "way to go!" he whisper shouts at the embarrassed boy. I wish I had that, somebody, anybody, to chuckle at something stupid I'd do. You may be thinking. 'What a silly thing to wish for?' Well, loneliness does that to you.

The boy's hands fall back into his lap, but his cheeks are still pink. He looks around the shop, trying to see if anyone is still looking at him. His eyes meet mine and I don't know what to do, I really want to look away but I can't. His eyes hold the ocean behind them, a stunning shade of blue. They tell a story, a very clear representation of happiness is held in them. His hair is brown and seems to be gelled up very gently. Freckles are scattered amongst his nose and part of his cheeks. He beats me to it, looking away before I can bring myself to. He turns in his chair and enters the conversation his four friends are currently having.

I look back down at my book, but I'm not actually reading it. My eyes stay focused on the bottom of the page, as I listen to the four boys interact. Okay, I know, I know, this might seem kind of creepy, but I'm liking this story which is playing out a few tables away from my own.

The boys tell jokes and take pictures of each other when the others aren't paying attention. This eventually causes an argument about wether or not the photos should be deleted. I can't help but let a few giggles slip past my lips as I listen to them 'roast' each other. My mind goes from a place of interest and happiness to a place of regret and pain. I shouldn't of ever payed attention to the group of friends, because it's caused me to think about a time when I had my own. A tear slides down my cheek as the memories come flooding back. The time my best friends and I got kicked out of Walmart for tipping all of the bikes over. The random adventures we would have around the city, with no end destination in mind. The times one of us had cracked a really shitty joke, causing us all to laugh so hard we cried. I was brought back to reality by the light tapping sound of my tears hitting the page of my book.

A/N- hi there! I've had this written for a long time with no thought of ever publishing it, but here I am. Anyways, I'm meeting the boys on August 7th, for the third time, and you think the third time would be less nerve-racking, but it isn't. I decided I should write in order to distract myself, so get ready for some updates!