I didn't realize I saved this lol
*****
Her lips stretched into a delighted smile as she nodded slightly at the old woman at the flower stall, earning a bright, almost toothless smile from her.
“Looking good, my dear,” the old woman said in her raspy voice, extending a stem of carnation to her.
She laughed, thanking the old woman as she received the beautiful flower before parking and chaining her bike. The strong summer wind blew, her floral summer dress flying around her legs, and her auburn curls bouncing off her shoulders. She took a satisfied breath as she smelt the pink flower as entering the small coffee and pastry shop, her sketchbook tucked in her hand by her side.
The small smile was still on her face as she greeted the cashier and said her order, even as she greeted familiar customers, and even as she took her usual spot at the corner of the shop by the floor to ceiling window.
She loved it there —her new sanctuary. People say they envy that permanent smile on her face, but little did they know that it was etched out of practice, out of need. She smiled as her cup of vanilla latte came and she smiled as she opened her sketchbook to the recent piece she was working on.
She smiled as her portrait of a girl smiled, with little tears on her eyes.
Then she slipped into her world of art, occasionally pausing to hear the strings of sea shells that hung from the ceiling and the chimes by the entrance making music as the wind danced around the place. She admired the various handcrafts out of broken and recycled materials that adorned the walls, shining with the reflection of the sun from outside.
She appreciates beauty, especially beauty from broken things. That’s why that place is so special for her.
She smiled as she immersed herself in her drawing, humming along with the country music that played inside the café.
Then the chimes by the door sounded like stars.
He entered the place quietly, also with a small smile on his face, directly looking at the handcrafts and the shells by the ceiling. He paused by the entrance, staring in amusement at the shells dangling from the ceiling, a familiar look she knew, as he too loved beauty from broken things.
But by now, her smile had faltered.
“Welcome!”
His attention was diverted to the cashier and he smiled, approaching the counter.
Her gaze were now fixed on her drawing, her hand holding the pencil was shaking as he took a seat on the table directly facing her, also by the window. He, too, loved the view of outside.
She took a furtive glance at the boy in front of her, still studying his surroundings, and that was when she noticed what he was wearing.
She remembered, on the second time she saw him, how she had to suppress laughter in his sudden change in wardrobe –a gray long sleeved polo shirt, something he wouldn’t normally wear. He was a dancer, and he finds comfort on his oversized shirts and sweatpants. And when she learned the reason behind him cleaning up, she couldn’t help a small smile appearing on her face. She loved that shirt.
She sighed, inconspicuously glancing at the boy who smiled at the waiter serving his drink, watching how his eyes wander outside, how his forefinger unconsciously rubbed the rim of his mug, like he always used to do, how his lips unconsciously upturn into a pout as he noticed the littlest mishap in things.
Her heart thundered, putting up a smile as she looked down again.
She remembered well how he took her little fingers in his, how they would silently sit together side by side to watch the rain, how she watched him run over to his friends as they started their rehearsals, only to see him running back to her again as if forgetting something, only to give her a soft kiss on the lips, giving her her favorite boyish, dimpled smile, before rushing back to his friends again.
She thought fondly of those memories, as she now looked at him as he silently read a book. And as if feeling her gaze on him, he looked up and met her eyes.
His lips broke into a full smile, his dimple deepening, giving her a small wave. She then smiled at him, but slightly wishing she could smile the way he does. They held their gazes for a few seconds, small smiles still gracing their lips, when a call broke from his phone. He gestured to answer it.
She watched how he smiled to the conversation, like how she heard him smile even through the phone, and how he ran his fingers through his thick hair, messing it out of habit. His gaze, his smile, his voice never failed to make her heart throb.
He met her eyes again as he ended the call and smiled. He quietly stood up, brought his mug and book and strode over to her, just smiling. She looked up at him, once again mesmerized at the gentle gaze he was giving her.
“May I?” he asked.
She nodded, and he took the seat in front of her, his gaze never leaving her.
“How are you, Kayc?” he said with a gentle smile.
Why can’t you look off somewhere if you catch me staring at you?
Why can’t you be cold like any old good ex would do?
The song was playing softly in the background, making her throat dry. But he isn’t like any other guy; he isn’t one to be rude and cold, even to those people he disagrees with.
“Same old,” she answered, smiling as she sipped her drink, slightly averting his gaze from his.
And swallowing a sob.
She remembered how tight his grip felt, asking her for another chance, when she told him it was over. How his eyes, cast with frustration, roamed around her face, convincing her that they can overcome her insecurities about their relationship together. She remembered how little tears dropped from his eyes before she walked away, finally giving up on what they have –on what they had.
He smiled as he took the sketchbook in front of her and she let him, watching him graze his fingers on the drawing.
“I miss your beautiful mind,” he said good-naturedly. He rarely complimented her drawings, but complimented and admired her, complimenting her creativity and mind .
He bore his eyes on hers again, and she was back to that treehouse, five summers ago, where she said yes to him, where he was jumping around, shouting and laughing shamelessly that “Kaycee Rice is finally mine!”
A fallen pencil broke their stare and they both got up from their seat to quickly retrieve the writing tool. She looked up to him through her lashes and she saw him looking at her again.
Then his phone rang and he looked at it, and he looked back at her, a myriad of emotions crossing his gaze.
“My -my girlfriend is looking for me,” he said. “I’ll call you sometime, Kayc. Let’s catch up, with the others, for old time’s sake,” he said.
The others –their friends thought that they were going to end up together. But it was all just a thought.
The sob creeped up her throat, but she forced it all down, knowing she had no right to be hurt. She had no right to hope.
She left him, just because of her insecurities. He had never failed to assure her, to make her feel she was enough, that if anything, he was undeserving of her, because she was perfect the way she was.
Why, why, why?
Would you tell me that you’d call me up sometime?
“Maybe we can get a drink, and just catch up.”
Like that’d be enough, no, that ain’t enough.
He smiled as he slowly embraced her into a friendly hug.
She remembered his warmth, a feeling ingrained into memory.
He pulled away, staring down at her. “Kayc…” he paused, stopping himself from saying something further. He gave her a sad smile, slightly shaking his head. “You’re still beautiful, Kayc.”
He waved in good bye and walked away without a second glance. Just like she did to him.
With every step that he made away from her, was every weight her heart endured. Even after a year, regret weighed her down. But it is all that there is –regret. She couldn’t do any more about it.
*****
Author's Note
If I talk to you in my socials (Twitter, IG), sorry I am MIA and not replying. I am in a social media break and enjoying it hehe