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Four
Arnold
Saturdays were usually reading days, so I brought my novel, just in case. Today I was reading Twin Flame by Kassia Devane. I loved dragons, and she brought them to life. Usually, I'd be engrossed by now, but... today, my heart skipped a beat. I fingered the edge of my book, not reading a word. Just waiting.
There she was. I knew it was her; it had to be. I was the only one here. Her deep brown eyes swept the room before she looked down at her phone. I knew those eyes, even though we'd never met.
She didn't see me yet. My foot tapped an erratic rhythm on the tiled floor. Was it too late to run? She was gorgeous. All curves. Short little thing. Her Superman shirt strained against her bosom as her tummy jiggled with each step she took towards the counter. Yummy.
"Arnold?" The barista called out. My hazelnut latte, but I couldn't move. If I didn't acknowledge her, I could slip out of here. I was no match for this goddess in front of me.
"Hello? Arnold." She held the latte out. "Your drink?"
My feet shuffled against the floor as I watched the tiles whizz underneath me. I'd never been ashamed of my name until now. Arnold. I grabbed my latte off the counter and looked up, grimacing at the barista.
"Hey," Angel said, standing behind me now. Her hand, light and uncertain, tapped my shoulder.
I swiveled around. Our eyes met. Hers, wide with nervous excitement; mine probably screamed 'help.'
"Hi," I managed, my voice cracking like I'd time-traveled back to puberty. "You're... you're here."
"Yep, it's me. I'm Agatha... nice to officially meet you." Her cheeks flushed pink, the color of cherry blossoms. Even the tips of her ears turned red. "You must be Adonis."
"Arnold," I corrected quickly, wishing I felt half as confident as my phone persona. "I'm just Arnold."
"Nice to finally meet you, just Arnold." She grinned, and I smiled back despite the knot in my stomach. This was happening. This was really happening.
We found a quiet corner, chairs scraping against the floor as we settled in. Her knees were inches from mine under the table. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. Too close? No, just right.
I wrapped my hands around my cup, the warmth seeping into my palms. Took a sip. Bitter, strong. Grounding. I'd be wired soon, but I hoped it would untangle this bundle of nerves that had settled in my belly. It usually did, but sometimes it gave me the runs. It was a toss-up. I hoped today wouldn’t be the day I’d be hugging the porcelain throne with the Hershey squirts.
She did the same, pursing her lips as she blew on the hot liquid. Watched it ripple. Then, a small sip, a nod of approval. She'd poured half a cup of milk in hers; it was probably lukewarm, but the way her leg bounced the table, I'd say she was nervous, too.
"Good coffee," I ventured, hoping my voice didn't crack again.
"Really good," she agreed, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.
We drank. The silence wasn't awkward—not exactly. It was expectant, like a woman in labor.
She set her cup down. I noticed her fingers, long and delicate, fiddling with the sleeve. Her eyes met mine, and she turned red again, the light dusting of freckles standing out against the pink of her flesh. She was absolutely adorable. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find something to say.
I fidgeted in my chair, the wooden legs creaking under the shift of my weight. Across from me, Agatha's eyes darted around, avoiding direct contact. Our hands were like statues on either side of our coffee cups.
"Um, so..." she began, her voice trailing off as if the words had decided to take a detour before reaching her lips.
"Bookstores," I blurted out, desperate to fill the void. "They're... nice."
"Right, yes. I love books." Her fingers toyed with a strand of hair, winding it around and then letting it go. "All those pages and, um, words."
"Words are great," I agreed, too eagerly. My leg bounced beneath the table, and I pushed down on them with my hands.
"Especially when they, you know, make sentences." She dropped her head in her hands and shook her head. Her laugh escaped a short, self-deprecating burst.
"Sentences are good. And paragraphs." I reached for my cup, hoping the action looked natural. "Can't forget those."
"Paragraphs," she echoed, a smile tugging at her lips despite the awkwardness of our conversation.
I took a sip, buying time, wishing words came as easily to me as they did when I was alone with my thoughts. But there, in front of Agatha, everything tangled up inside.
