He led me to my table and I sat down obediently, placing my bag on my lap. It was only a matter of seconds when Vicky has served me with my Americano and oatmeal cookies. The oatmeal cookies were carved into hearts and dyed red. I flinched at the sight but I shoved one down my throat anyway. It tasted the same, though. I rubbed my fingers off with cookie crumbs and fished my phone out of my bag. I was supposed to attend a meeting in a few hours, where I have to present my report, which I pulled an all-nighter for. Tara, my co-worker has sent a message telling me that the meeting was moved to Monday.
Great!
Amazing!
Stupendous!
I glanced at the clock.
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably when it was only—three.
Two.
One.
The wind chimes jingled and you appeared by the door wearing a black long sleeved polo tucked in with well-fitted black jeans, which flattered the gorgeously gracious blessing behind you. You took off your shades and clipped it by the crook of your collar.
You, too, stopped short at the unusual sight but you sauntered towards the counter anyway and talked with Micky for a while. I recklessly fixed my hair with my trembling hands and tied it up in a ponytail, few of my blonde highlights falling off to the sides. I glanced across me and realized that your table was already occupied. I frowned, fixing my eyeglasses.
I looked up when I noticed a shadow hovering over me.
“Can I sit with you?”
My heart froze. My breath hitched on my throat. My stomach turned upside down. My tongue tied. I found myself staring right into your chocolate brown eyes. I almost died.
YOU ARE READING
The Fifth Date
RomansaHer Solitude. His Company. Her Silence. His Words. Her Americano. His Caramel Macchiato. Their Date. Their Fifth Date. -TheGreatDutchess #goodluckgeorgia
