Shawmila Imagines {Rewriting}

Nervous

It has become almost like a routine for me now. Every Sunday, after my morning workout, I go sit in mine favorite cafe, order a hot tea, and try to do my homework.

I’ve been following this routine for about a month. However, the further into the semester I go, the harder the homework has been becoming. Making me stay in the coffee shop for dangerously large spans of time.

Luckily, the cafe staff doesn’t seem to care. My work outs aren’t too early in the morning. So, by the time I arrive to the café, the really early bird crowd has usually already visited, leaving plenty of seats for me.

My favorite seat is the one in the corner. I like to sit with my back to the wall and with my body facing the door.

I’ve currently been in the café for longer than i’ve ever been. I can tell because i can no longer recognize the faces of the people stopping in to grab a coffee as the “morning” regulars.  

I glance to the corner of my computer to see the time displayed.

It’s nearing noon. That must be why the faces are no longer familiar.

I catch myself staring off towards the door, lost in thought.

The air feels different. This must be what afternoons feel like here. Not necessarily busy, but definitely quick paced. Im not sure if I can work in this atmosphere. I prefer the morning vibe.

I snap to reality when the door chimes.

In glides a handsome, tall young man.

I quickly drop my head back to my computer in attempt to not let him distract me. But, i can’t help it. Soon I am glancing up at him.

As he walks up to the counter, he does a quick look around the café.

Our eyes meet.

Only for a moment. But it was enough, nonetheless. I inhale sharply, feeling my heart race.

I watch him order with mine peripherals, not wanting him to know that I am staring.

After he orders, he starts walking to the side of the bar to wait for his drink. The movement makes me glance up again. My eyes lock on his immediately.

I throw my face into my book, embarrassed. I don’t know why I am embarrassed, i don’t even know him. But I am liking this feeling he is giving me.

I let a few minutes pass before I try looking up at him again.

He’s now taken a seat with his drink. Scrolling through something on his phone.

I hear my own phone buzz. Pulling my eyes off of him, i check mine notifications.

“Shawns iphone” is requesting to airdrop: 1 photo.

I glance down, momentarily confused. I decide to accept it.

A screenshot of an iphone note is looking back at me

“Hey! This is a message for the girl sitting in the corner:

I hope this isn’t weird. You seem busy and I don’t want to bother you, but I saw you looking at me. And I was wondering if I could come say hi…. Because I was looking too.”

I pause for a moment, looking at mine phone.

Oh my God! Is this real?!

Honestly, I was flattered. He is gorgeous, wearing tight skinny jeans and a sweatshirt that reads YOUTH across the front. His brown curls are resting messily on top of his head, but some-how, he makes it look good.