Writing prompt: Feels
Ok, something light and in my wheelhouse this week.
She wasn’t sure how to approach. Fake a trip. Spill her tea as she walked by. Knock the chair. The scenarios flicked across her brain like a slideshow and she was at her table before she could pick one of them to use. She started to sit and changed her mind taking the chair that faced him. At least she could sneak a peak at him as he hunched over his laptop.
Maybe someone would come by and he would answer in that voice, smokey smooth, thick with an accent she couldn’t place. In the meantime, she would pretend to read on her phone while she wondered how soft those wavy locks were that tumbled over his forehead and sometimes into his eyes. Oh shit! He looked up and she reached for her tea teetering on knocking it over in her haste. Her eyes glued to the screen as her face flushed.
Shit. Maybe she should go. Get up before more damage was done. She was such a masacist feeding this unhealthy crush months in and never once taking a chance. Yeah, it was time to go. She would give it a mintue more so that he was engrossed again and never noticing when she slipped away. As if he cared anyway.
A voice to her left, loud and irritating. “Can I sit?”
She was about to answer sure, pack up and go when a voice, smokey smooth, an accent she couldn’t place, from a place she would visit someday soon answered. “Sorry buddy, that’s my place.”