Wonderwall • h.s

•Prologue•

I noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed together as he writes the words, printing them on his old, worn out, leather journal. His fingers grip the pen in his hand tightly and press firmly on the seemingly thin, fragile pages. He pressed his lips together and momentarily looked up, out of the window in the small coffee shop, as if to look for inspiration from the people walking along the busy New York City streets. I desperately wanted to read the words which he seemed to put his heart and soul into. The fact that he could be writing about absolutely anything intrigued me so greatly.

What could it be?

Was he a writer? A journalist? Did he come here every morning just to write for fun? He seemed so deeply invested in all of it. It was as if his entire world consisted of the words he wrote down on those pages.

What was his name? I see his face every day yet, I haven't been able to put a name to it. For two months, all I could do was guess. This man sitting by the large window inside the bright little coffee shop every morning had become the best part of my day. 

Don't get me wrong, he's not hard to look at. His hair is rather long; a contrast to the high-class New York businessmen who have their hair perfectly gelled back all the time. He had messy yet, rather well done natural curls slumping over his shoulder. His eyes. God, his eyes. I never had the pleasure of seeing them up close but, those short moments where he would glance up and out the window, the light would catch his eyes and illuminate their beautiful emerald color,  making my heart skip a beat.

Lost in my thoughts as I usually am since the minute I walk through those doors, I hadn't realized my attention had been called out for multiple times by the barista. I snap out of my running thoughts and my breath nearly catches in my throat as those beautiful eyes had landed on me. I quickly look away and over to the man in all black who had been calling for me. I quickly push the chair back and flinch at the horrible cry the metal stool had made against the linoleum floor tiles. I heard the softest chuckle come from the mysterious but, handsome man. I glance over at him again, such a small smile was placed on his lips but, it was enough to reveal a deep-set dimple on his cheek that I had never noticed before. He shakes his head ever so slightly before turning his attention back to the little brown book.

Heat immediately rushes to my cheeks as I quickly make my way over to the counter to pick up my small coffee. I just made a complete fool out of myself. In front of him, nonetheless.

I clear my throat and take my coffee. I adjust my scarf a bit since I was now feeling quite warm due to my embarrassment. I quickly make my way back to my table and take a seat. I looked over at him once more, pleased to find that he was no longer smiling. Not that I didn't like his smile, God no, it was beautiful. I just didn't want my embarrassment to be what fueled it.

I tap my fingers on the table in no specific pattern as I tried to focus on my book which I was almost halfway through. I frown a bit when I noticed a bit of rustling coming from his vicinity. I look up at him slipping his jacket on and pulling a grey beanie over his head. He closes his little journal and ties the little leather strap around it to keep it secure. I look down, not wanting to stare like a creep for any longer as he gathered his things.

My attention is easily caught though when I notice the unnamed man shoot me a soft smile as he passes my table and exits out the doors into the cool, autumn breeze outside. My insides nearly melted at the brief moment his stunning eyes were looking directly into mine. At that moment, I knew I was hooked.