"The loverboy is constantly giving you googly eyes Zo."
Dean, Zoey's best friend, appeared behind the counter with a nothing short of a smirk on his lips. Both of them worked in Yellow Submarine, the most popular coffee shop on campus, and it was packed on Saturday afternoon (coffein as the ultimate remdy against hangover?).
"No, he's not," she quickly countered. Her eyes darted towards the far right corner where a pair sat rather closely. Elliot, a confusing boy Zoey may or may not had a one night stand lat week (investigation was still in process!) lazily sat across of a stunning girl who seemed to exist solely to contrast with Zoey. They didn't looked like they were on a date, but their conversation involved far too much touching to be classified as friendly either. Not from the girl's side at least, though Elliot couldn't pass of as innocent himself.
Zoey's eyes glanced in his direction one too many times, and she had yet to make eye contact. She knew for a fact Elliot was not looking at her.
A confusing feeling formed in the pit of her stomach as soon as Zoey saw him today, and it gained in intensity with every minute. She wasn't jealous, she didn't have the right to be, but what with the whole ordeal about the one night stand, the lines were blurred and Zoey didn't know how to feel. She has written it off to her inexperience, yet failed to make the feeling disappear.
Elliot, on the other hand, was visibly enjoying his maybe-date with a gorgeous girl seated across of him. Perhaps he's used to it, perhaps it was indeed just a hit-and-run for him?
"Oh, yeah he is," Dean said, snapping Zoey out of her reverie. She shook her head at him, threw her towel and began untying her apron. "You could've at least told me you banged Elliot Hart."
That piqued Zoey's interest. "You know him?"
Dean huffed and shook his head at her, his gesture one of utter disbelief. "Seriously? I told you about him. He's in a band..." He left the sentence hang, though Zoey's face remained motionless, showing no signs of remembrance. "He's a friend of a friend," he huffed at last, giving up; but couldn't refrain from murmuring, "I don't know why I tell you shit when you always tune me out."
Zoey smiled sheepishly at her best friend. "You gotta cut me some slack here Dean, you know a lot of people. I can't remember them all."
Dean's eyes flickered to far right window, smirk capturing his thin lips. "Well, I don't think you'll forget this one ever again."
Zoey resumed taking off her apron and threw it in Dean's face, upon which the latter laughed loudly. "I'm going on my break, I'll be expecting my coffee."
Picking up her purse from behind the counter, Zoey located her book and shuffled towards the far left of the coffee shop. The left wall of the place was filled with ragged looking, dark orange bricks; opposite of the colorful shades of reds and yellows scattered all over the place. It would look kitsch and chaotic if every color weren't connected with rich brown, the color of coffee beans. Zoey's favorite place, however, was a plush armchair in the far back; secluded and somewhat private looking from the other sitting places. The chair itself was a rescue, the owner's neighbor had thrown it out and the former found it, deep-cleaned it and returned its former glory.
Dean brought Zoey her coffee, regular black one without sugar nor milk, and she sniffed it; savoring the beautiful aroma that spread all around. A coffee shop was the perfect place for Zoey to work in, she adored coffee and Dean, and both of them were in the same place. Though Dean wasn't wholly aware of it, Zoey had always considered him a brother she never had.
Completely imensed in her book, Zoey barely registered the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. But then she heard a voice that penetreted her mind, breaking her concentration and attracting her gaze like a magnet.
"I will remember the kisses 406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0aLZJDv1x2
our lips raw with love 406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHQaVjCJHi0
and how you gave me 406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwml3yYR9et
everything you had 406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF6qVCq4YDz
and how I 406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxyF1LGJu9z
offered you what was left of 406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLKYvCiZ1KZ
me..."
The words Elliot spoke rendered her speechless, unable to think anything else but about his soft voice murmuring a poem of great Bukowski, a writer whose book laid trapped between her fingers. Elliot smiled again, his head bowed a little as if he was shy and shot her a look underneath his lashes. It was a boyish, closed-mouthed smile that lingered somewhere deep in her mind.
"The book you are reading..." he said after a while, breaking the spell transmitted by their gazes that clung to one another. Zoey cleared her throat, coming to her senses at last.
"Yeah," she confirmed. "I didn't peg you as a Bukowski enthusiast." She shook her head, smiling a little and closed her book. "Actually, I didn't peg you as a poem lover at all."
"Well," Elliot grinned wider, all his shyness gone and replaced by a confident aura. "You don't know me."
Zoey lowered her head, slightly ashamed. His statement just reminded her about the fact that she may or may not slept with a complete stranger, and the fact he was charming and had a mind-spinning smile did nothing to reduce her shame.
As if Elliot noticed her discomfort, he brush it off with a laugh. "I don't know you either.'' He paused, as if wanting to make a point of his fllowing words. ''But I want to."
Slow smile wanted to break free, a counter statement at the tip of her tongue; but the she remembered. And as the flood of memories grew stronger, Zoey's mind and heart closed up. She glanced from her half closed book to his face - his radiant, smiling face - and merely gave me a small smile.
"Hey, what kind of music are you into?" Elliot didn't budge. It was like the more Zoey withdrew, the more he pushed. There were moments when Zoey appreciated his effort to get to know her, but moments when she needed him to just give up outnumbered them.
"Why?" Zoey asked finally, her tone hesitating.
"Well..." he drawled, leaning back into his chair. Elliot's eyes didn't waver, always almost unblinkingly set on Zoey. "There's a small concert in the Amphi tonight, and my band is going to perform. Among others, that is."
He smiled, and further explained the type of music his band played. Apparently, they were into indie, grunge and a little bit about all types of rock, jazz and blues genre. Zoey heard about their band before and she recalled the praise for the lead singer, rumour had it he was like a merman. That was what campus buzzed about at least, she had never witnessed their gig.
"Oh," Zoey said at last, after Elliot gave her a pointed look. "I'm more into pop. You know these new boy bands and stuff."
Even when the words formed in her mind, she didn't know why she lied. Perhaps it was her heart's defense mechanism, she didn't know, but what confused her more was that there was a part of her that regretted. Small part, but pushy nonetheless.
"And stuff," Elliot echoed her last words, a knowing smile on his face. It was obvious he saw through her lies, and he didn't bother to hide it. "Hey, did you found out about what happened Friday night?"
The expression that crossed Zoey's showed him everything. Her eyes wandered about the place, avoiding his penetrating gaze, but finally gave up and shook her head.
"That's what I thought," Elliot said, then, as if he remembered something, laughed out loud. "Well, if you want to find out you could always ask me."
He stood up, preparing to go, but then put his hands on the small table that separated them and leaned over. His face was impossible not to stare at, and Zoey was granted a full view on all the imperfections it held. Specks of tiny, almost invisible freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, a crooked nose and those full, pouty lips. "Perhaps we didn't sleep together," he whispered, leaning further until his mouth was right next to Zoey's ear, "or perhaps we did."
And then he whirled around, lazily strolling out of the shop, leaving Zoey dumbstruck. And just a little hot and bothered.
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