Sailor has been coming in every other day at exactly 6:40 pm to order the same drink. Sometimes, I see her walk by the window where she sits every day. She'll be walking with a girl that has dark brown hair and green eyes, and a boy with long blond hair held back in a ponytail with brown eyes. Her two friends are both attractive as well, but still. I find her to be the most gorgeous, and unique of the three.
Her hair is usually down and flowing across her torso like a river. That red tamale colored river bounces off her shoulders before traveling quickly down her back, eagerly reaching out behind her to give the impression that she's walking into the wind - even if we're indoors, and there is no wind. Her eyes are an aquarium of color and wonder. A naive wonder I want to get lost in, to dance in because it's just too pretty to not stare at. So I do just that, I stare like the creep I am, but only when she's not looking because I really don't care if anyone else thinks I'm a creep, but if she's doing? I'll be heartbroken.
Seriously, I don't know what my mind and my heart are thinking when it comes to this girl. She is the laugh in my sea of sadness, and her positive aura is a lighthouse for the hopeful...the hopeful being me. She's like a swan, gliding across the solid ground she walks on like she's a wave on a beach. I don't know why, but for some reason, my soul seems certain that this girl, this woman named "Sailor" is the definition of perfect in our mind.
"Hey, lover boy," Marija says, snapping fingers in front of my face. I blink as I hand yet another guy his drink. I didn't even realize that I had called his name. "My shift's over. You're on your own."
I nod. "Alright. Is Slade coming into work today?" I ask.
Marija shakes her head as she wraps a purple and pink scarf around her neck. "I think he's sick. Be happy it's a Wednesday, there's been barely anyone in here except a few regulars."
I nod again. It's true. Wednesdays are most definitely the slowest days of the week here. I usually would paint what I see since no one is in line, but instead, I pull out my professional colored pencils and start to draw Sailor.
I start with her outline. It's pretty easy since I usually draw women I like and they usually have very similar figures. Then, I start on her clothes. The dark skinny jeans that are practically a second skin, the gray leg warmers bunched down to fit inside knee high brown boots. Then, the baby pink knit sweater, and her gray scarf. I take my time making sure the fishtail braid looks exactly like the one she's wearing, and the gray beanie she's always wearing allows the tendrils of hair framing her hair are peaking out. I draw her lips, her nose, but I pause. Her eyes. I can't mess up on her eyes, and everything else is perfect. I cannot finish this and then feel unhappy, so I leave that portion blank.
"Excuse me?" I hear a voice, and I quickly slap my notebook shut, and look up and see the very girl I want to claim as my own, looking at me with an amused grin. "Sorry to interrupt your creative time, which we all need, but that charcoal pencil you were using? You marked your left cheek with it by accident," she warns, pointing at her own cheek. I reach up and feel, and sure enough, when I peel my fingers out from under my bang, there's black on my fingers.
I feel my eyebrows furrow, "When did that get there?" I whisper.
Sailor giggles. "You smeared it," she says and starts digging through her bag. She pulls out a small package. "They're makeup wipes. When I use charcoal, it helps get the black off my fingers. You'll need two, and there are only two left in there, so you can just take the whole package."
"Thanks," I say with a small smile, and extend a hand over the bar, making sure to use the one that doesn't have any colored pencil or charcoal on it. "I'm Lars."
She smiles and shakes my hand. I can't help but marvel briefly at how well her tiny hand fits perfectly inside mine like it was molded specifically for that purpose. "Sailor. Nice to meet you, Lars," she says and I almost release a moan of joy at how easily my nickname rolls off her tongue like she's said it for years.
"See you again?" I ask as she makes a move to leave the shop.
She turns back and nods. I feel my heart palpitate. Good job, my brain says with sarcasm. You've become an acquaintance to her. If we move at this pace, we'll be 40 by the time we confess that we really like her.792Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcxczTIhUFj
792Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9pwdaUwEJF
