Two Hearts {H.S.}

Ch. 5

Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves

I used to get sad and lonely when the sun went down

But it's different now

'Cause I love the light that I've found in you

With as much dignity and false obliviousness as I possibly could, I wiped my shaking hands across the soft, worn material of the apron strung around my waist and waltzed from the staff bathroom I had been using for my personal game of hide-and-seek for the past ten minutes.

The band on stage has already meandered its way onto another cover song that pulsed through the bar like a balmy summer evening. One I recognized as These Girls by Sticky Fingers. 

My mind ran circles and was stuck in quicksand at the same time. Not knowing what was reality or fantasy conflicted with common sense and longing.

Throughout the rest of the night, my eyes stayed alerted to only my current task at hand as my insecurities turned into a drill sergeant screaming at my furious heart to calm down.

Closing came too soon for the first time; the clock a countdown to my inevitable slaughter performed with a pierced green blade glittered in inky butterflies and crimson lips.

Ignorant to my tremor shaken hands and clammy palms, Jess continued her nightly banter and playful attitude that seemed topped off by an unusual sparkle in her eye. However, I couldn't spend much time worrying about the minor details of her behavior while my impending heart attack stood right across the room wiping drips of sweat from his glistening chest and then cursing as his necklace became twisted in his hair and then as his long, nimble fingers gently righted the cross into the middle of his leanly muscled pecs while sweeping his curls behind his shoulders.

It was impossible to form coherent thoughts that even remotely did justice for the pure beauty and utter sex appeal being exuded from him.

While neither my own mind or body were under my control, my conscience still felt minor guilt from thinking of this man in inappropriate ways when I didn't even know his full name, or height, or age.

Is this what everyone feels when they completely fall in lust? Is this what true lust is like? Or is it just utter fascination? Or maybe a binding, sickly sweet, and humid spell a witch has cast upon me in an unwitting moment of negligence?

Despite my inner hidden naughtiness brought forth by literature and film, I was almost completely innocent in experience which emitted off me in waves of stuttered phrases and heated cheeks.

Though most of my friends were completely male, I had managed to friend-zone myself with every single one and now pretty much knew I was the Monica to their Ross. They even asked for advice with other women from me— not that I knew much and am definitely not like most of the women they date. Not because I lack the ordinary or embrace uniqueness, but simply because I don't seek male attention (and it never seeks me back). I have never been the first to make a move and I doubt I ever will be. I am not a flirt unless by oblivious mischance. And I don't think my body is of any sort of value to myself or muse of intrigue to others. 

Much to my chagrin but also relief, by the time I had finished cleaning my section and the fridges in the back (and I did take my sweet time) the stage was barren and the bar quiet aside from Jess's clinking mugs and slamming cabinets meaning Harry and the band had already left for the night.

Sighing a breath of relief even as my heart dropped, I took a seat at the freshly sanitizer bar and accompanied Jess as she finished her chores.

Approximately 20 minutes later, Jess and I began our goodnights as she gathered her car keys and bag.