Her Devotion ✔️

Acquainted

It's Saturday; 5 days since the first time I visited hot and tasty... And I've been there three times already. I can no longer deny the fact that he is the main reason I have lunch there. Neither can I deny my growing interest in him. What are his likes, and dislikes, and how is he always jovial?

I still don't know his name.

Standing in front of my mirror, I apply my lipgloss before rubbing my lips together and puckering them.

What am I doing?

Stepping away from the mirror, I deposit the lipgloss in my bag and head out on being satisfied with my look.

I hear the familiar chiming of the bells as I walk into the restaurant and sit at my usual table since it's not occupied. I look out the window, observing passers-by while drumming on the table.

"Good afternoon." My mood deflates once I hear the familiar voice of the redhead lady.

"Good afternoon." I greet finally looking at her.

"What would you like today?" She asks with a pleasant smile.

"Asiago Tortelloni Alfredo with Grilled Chicken."

"Alright." She leaves after writing it down in her notepad while I resume looking out the window.

~~~~~

Annoyed is exactly how I feel- at myself. Being disappointed because I didn't get to see some random guy is not what I do and I shouldn't start now.

I kick a stone on the sidewalk as I wander after leaving the restaurant. Not in the mood to head home, I find my way to a nearby park and sit on a free bench while placing my bag on my lap.

I watch the ducks waddling on the pond; the hen preceding the ducklings. A sudden longing for Mum makes my heart ache.

It's funny how I miss someone who's hardly here. Most of our conversations are held over the phone- one-minute conversations to be more precise. Sometimes I wish we have the sort of relationship my roommate, Kelly has with her mum.

What would it feel like to talk with someone for an hour over the phone?

"Hi." I'm disrupted by a voice I've come to relish and my neck snaps up in surprise. "I thought it was you." Mr. Blue eyes smiles, crinkles appearing at the sides of his eyes.

"Hi." I greet, tucking my hair behind my ear. For someone who has dreamt of similar moments, I'm overwrought with emotions.

"Can I sit?" He asks, gesturing to my left.

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead." I move a bit though it's not necessary.

"Thanks." He sits, clasping his hands on his lap as he looks at the ducks. "Would I be right to assume you love scrutinizing things?" He sends me a questioning smile as I'm about to shrug but stop.

"I guess- I tend to take things a bit too seriously," I say, returning my attention to the ducks.

"You want to know what I think is going on with them?" He asks, looking at me once more as I turn to look at him, hoping he can read the interest on my face. "I think the hen," he starts, referring to the biggest duck in front, "is their mother and the 4 ducklings behind her are happy and content from the bobbing of their heads." Unable to resist, I look at him as he focuses on them "The last duckling walking a bit behind with his head hung low doesn't seem happy; he seems disconnected, lost- alone."

'Like me.' I think as he looks at me. For what seems like 2 minutes, none of us averts our gaze and though I'm sure a lot more than I want him to know can be read in my eyes, I'm too focused on trying to figure him out.

Does he feel alone too?

My breath hitches as he reaches out and tucks some hair behind my ear, lightly brushing my cheek. His fingers linger and I'm tempted to close my eyes.

"But I think he'll feel connected much sooner than he expects." He finishes softly, retracting his hand before he introduces himself. "I'm Thomas."

"Bailey," I reply, before tearing my gaze away. "You read ducks?" I ask, managing a small smile.

"You smiled." He says as I become self-conscious. "I haven't seen that before- you have a beautiful smile."

"Thanks," I mumble, directing my attention to the ducks once more.

"To answer your question, I do. It's something I do once in a while; I find it fascinating. What weird thing do you do? Don't tell me I'm the only weird one between us." He jokes as I hold back a smile.

"Stone skipping," I say confidently.

"Nice. I've never been able to do that. What's the highest your stone has skipped?"

"13 times," I say, relaxing on the bench as he whistles in admiration.

Resting his arm on the back of the bench he replies, "That's a lot." I have to agree with whoever said every disappointment is a blessing- this is much better than seeing him at the restaurant.

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