dedicated to Cheyenne (830freckles) for the amazing trailer on the side.
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One: Candle
"I remember what you wore on the first day / you came into my life and I though hey / you know, this could be something..."
-Boys Like Girls, Two is Better than One
The first time I saw you, it was a Saturday. December first. I don't know if you remember it, because you have so many words in your head that sometimes the little things slip out, but I do.
I remember because I was sitting alone in that little teashop on 23rd street, the one where all the college kids come in scarves and sweaters when it's cold. There was a candle on my table in a little glass cup, and it smelled like peppermint. Or maybe that was my tea.
When you came in, I had my head buried in book whose name I can no longer remember. I've read too many, I guess. I didn't look up; people are always coming into the tea house, coming and leaving and coming back again because the tea here is the best in all of Portland. That's what Krystal says, anyway, and she's the owner so I guess she would know. Krystal also says that I'm here so much, I practically blend into the scenery, and one day someone will come in and sit on me because they'll think that I'm a chair. That kind of hurts, if I'm honest, but I don't say so. Krystal doesn't get things like that.
But you didn't blend in with the scenery, not at all. I wasn't paying attention at first, and all I heard was the faint murmur of your voice ordering a drink ('Vanilla bubble tea, please. Yes, warm sounds nice. No, I'll pass on the tapioca.'). Even that came through a haze, because you know I have a knack for blocking things out when I'm reading. You slipped away from the counter after ordering, and I only know that because a moment later, you appeared in the seating area in a flash of bright goldenrod.
That drew my attention: you were wearing a garish raincoat the same color as the flame of the candle on my table. It clashed terribly with the dark wood of the cafe, but somehow you managed to pull it off. With your auburn hair hanging damp down your back and the polka-dotted umbrella dangling from your wrist, you looked like an awkward girl out of one of those movies that my aunt loves to watch. The rom-coms, I think?
And maybe you collected a few odd stares, because we were all regulars and you were a newbie, but I was captivated by you. Not many things can pull me from a book, you know. But you did, and that made me watch you, discreetly, as you scouted for a seat.
There was an empty chair across from me, but I didn't speak up because I'd probably end up looking stupid and besides, did I really want company? Anyway, you found a place to sit soon enough, on the corner of the couch next to that bookshelf full of boardgames. You prodded the guy who had his stuff on the cushion there, and he grunted and shifted his bag to the floor, all without looking at you. You didn't seem to mind.
There were headphones over your ears (I could hear the music from my table five feet away; it was Norah Jones), and I guess that's why you didn't realize how much noise you were making. The bag over your shoulder had a really loud zipper, and the sound of it sliced, knife-like, through the soft music wandering about the cafe. You pulled out a laptop, set it on the couch, then thought better of it and picked it up again. It was small; a netbook ensconced in a purple case.
Some people gave you dirty looks as you bumbled around, working your way out of that heinous coat and tossing it unceremoniously onto the ground. You had a sweater on beneath it, a thick red one with a polar bear's face on the front, and gloves tucked into the sleeves. It looked warm. Your rain boots squeaked on the hardwood floor as you settled into place with the netbook in your lap, not noticing when the guy beside you scooted a little bit farther away.
All of your things were scattered, crushed beneath you or slung across your legs, so that it looked like getting up would be near impossible. Maybe that's why you groaned when the barista called your order (I don't know how you heard her, your music was so loud), and you had to untangle yourself in order to stand. That guy got up and found a new seat while you were gone.
You came back quickly, a blue mug of tea wafting steam into your eyes. Your image becoming distorted as you passed before the little candlelight flame, but I could still see the smirk on your lips. There was a rosy, wind-kissed blush to your cheeks, but I didn't think you looked cold. Just happy, smiling at a private joke inside your mind. Later, I'd be privy to those amusements, but at the moment, I was just watching, quietly.
My head was partly shielded by my book, leaving only my eyes were visible, like a proper stalker. And when you set your drink down and turned around, your gaze sweeping over me, I quickly slapped my book down reverted my focus to the pages in front of me. The movement upset the flame, making it stutter and dance.
You didn't even notice me staring (you had that blank look in your eyes), but I didn't want to take the chance. I'd never seen you before, and I didn't want you to be scared away from the teashop by that one weird boy who had a particular fondness for people-watching.
So I made myself read for the rest of the next two hours, even though I finished the book and ended up starting again from the beginning. I heard you typing, though, your fingers making that rapid, lovely sound of nails against computer keys. What were you writing? I wondered. But of course I didn't ask, because then I'd just look like a fool. And why did I care, anyway? I'd never seen you before in my life; you were just another pretty girl who happened to find her way into the teashop.
But in the back of my mind, I had to admit that I found you fascinating. You were so oblivious to everything around you, but you focused on that computer screen as if it was your salvation. And it was, I guess. I know that now.
You left at four PM, without warning, and it seemed as if you were rushing. As you sped past my table, the stray flapping sleeve of your jacket snuffed out my candle. You didn't notice. I didn't mind.
