It wasn't long until my food was brought to me, and it looked like Reece took his time with what was left of his so I wouldn't eat alone. When the cashier brought over our tea, I smiled. "Thank you," I said to her.
"Oh, you're welcome," she said, glancing at us before looking out at the storm. The rain slapped against the café's door. "You two take as long as you need." She clapped her hands with a smile, taking slow steps back. "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen."
"Got it, Mel," Reece said.
As she disappeared into the kitchen, I grabbed a fry and looked at Reece. "You know her?" I asked. Then I cringed. How was that any of my business? Chill, Camila, chill.
"I mean I'm here a lot during the week," he chuckled, a sound so deep, I got good goosebumps. "I don't know her personally, but, her name," he shrugged and drank what was left of his lemonade, "feel like I gotta know that at least."
My brows lifted. I was curious. So, of course, I had to ask. "Why's that?"
Reece chuckled again. "I mean, how can I properly say thank you if I don't know your name, ya know?" He licked his lips before cocking a brow. "That's rude, don't you think?"
Well, I couldn't argue with him. He had a kind, personable way of approaching manners. In a way, it was nice. Really. Most people were so quick to just leave without a word, or too into whatever was on their phone to even acknowledge your existence. The fact that someone would purposely get to know you, even in the smallest way, to be polite, was friendly.
He was delightful. I liked him. But still, I had to ask another question. "So, um," I needed to break the ice a little more while I had the chance, "did you ever think of asking for my name?"
Reece lifted his brows as an innocent, almost shy grin graced his face. The look alone made me blush and bite my lip. As he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, I reached for a fry before I made an already cute moment worse.
"I did, but," he turned in his seat and faced me, "I didn't, does that make sense?"
Finishing my fry, I blinked at him. I was confused, but then again, I wasn't. Was he shy deep inside? Did I make him shy? I giggled. "Maybe?"
Reece licked his lower laugh before a husky chuckle left him. He reached for the tea he hadn't touched. "I guess I was waiting for the moment to fall on my lap." Taking a sip, he glanced at me. "Like today."
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I found myself staring at him, and I hoped I didn't look like an idiot because I felt warm, nervous, and excited all at once. I'd never had a guy take this kind of approach. It was always the "Damn girl, can I get your number?" kind of introduction and I wasn't that type of girl. Honestly, with that approach, there wouldn't have been a relationship either. Not that I was looking for one, I was too shy to try, but I didn't want a guy to focus on my body. I needed someone to focus on me.
Like Reece who remembered the food I liked before knowing my name.
Thunder roared outside. I glanced at the storm, biting my lip. Suddenly, the sound of the water reminded me of dystopian winds; a society shrouded in darkness disguised as a peaceful light. There was nothing good in a storm, but some found it relaxing, and calming. Like lies that blanket horrible truths.
"Do you like the rain?" Reece asked. His voice quickly pulled me from my thoughts and potential story idea, I looked back at him. With a smirk, he sipped his tea. "I kinda lost ya there."
I'd done it again. The blank stare, off into the distance. Following the plot bunnies as they weaved together new ideas that could possibly, maybe, absolutely be a story if I could just write it. This is why some writers prefer this weather, huh?
"I didn't mean to keep you here if you enjoy this." Reece placed his cup back on the counter as he sweetly smiled. "It's just nasty out there."
"Oh, no, no." Leave it up to my thoughts to ruin what could've been a super cute get-to-know-each-other conversation. "It's just—it's weird." Nervously, I chuckled.
"Nothing wrong with weird." Reece gave me his full attention. With one arm on the counter, he balanced his head on a loose fist. The dimples returned to his face, there was a sparkle in his eye. And when he breathed in and out, I heard his deep, smooth attentive sigh.
I bit my lip. Was I in a movie? I felt like this was the beginning of some romance flick and I—no, stop Camila. This isn't that.
"Okay." If nothing was weird, that meant he was down to hear anything. His body language said it, too. I mean, he worked at the library down the street. I was sure he heard every story possible.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the flyer Nancy had given me the other day. As I flattened the crinkles out on the counter, I sighed. "My work-bestie gave me this because I want to be a writer," I said.
Out of the corner of my eye, Reece nodded. "Mhm."
I sighed again. "And I really want to do this, I want to try. I mean," I pointed at the window as I glanced at him, "even now, just looking at the rain, I, um, I had an idea."
"It's normal to find inspiration in different places," he said. "Your mind's active. That's cool. Nothing wrong with that."
Looking back at the door, the rain calmed for a second. It slowed, like drumming fingertips on skin. "No, there isn't," I said. "But I can't write them."
There. Boom. I said it. I couldn't even tell Nancy, and at this point, I needed to stop putting "work" in front of "bestie" because I told Nancy almost everything. Almost... because I couldn't tell her that I sucked at the one goal I had in life.
"Why?" Reece's question caught me off guard. Looking at him, I didn't expect the gentle seriousness on his face.
"What do you mean?"
"Why can't you write?" he asked, in detail this time.
"I, um—" What answer should I give him? I had plenty of reasons. "I just... can't. The idea comes, I can see everything in my head, but when I go to put it on paper or in a doc, I freeze. The idea goes away. Poof." With my hands, I demonstrated how my thoughts vanished in thin air.
I wasn't sure if he thought I was funny, or cute, or if my weirdness was appealing because he chuckled and softly scratched the side of his face. Before he or I could say anything, Mel, the cashier, returned from the back. "Everything good?" she asked, noting our food. Mostly mine because I hardly touched it. "Do I need to bag anything?"
"Nah, I think we're good," he said, then looked at me. "Unless you want to leave. Which if that's the case—"
No. I didn't want to leave. I wanted his input. He looked like he had plenty of advice to give. "I'm okay." Turning my head, I forced a smile at Mel. "I still need to finish the rest of my food."
Her brows lifted as she laughed. "Mhm, sure thing." With a shrug, she turned back towards the kitchen. "Call me when you're ready."
"We will," Reece said. When she disappeared, he looked back at me. He came closer. So close, I was able to see the dark, almost red-brown in the center of the irises in his eyes. His cologne smelled like heaven. I gulped.
"Based on everything you said right now," he lifted his brows and tilted his head, "I've got one important question to ask you."
Oh no. I wasn't ready for a question. I wanted motivation, maybe some tips and trips. In no way was I prepared for an interview or an interrogation. It was just book-writing, right? "Um," I gulped again, "sure."
"What's stopping you?"
His words hit my ears. Gently. Softly. Refreshing. "I don't..." I didn't know the answer to his question. Was there anything stopping me? Honestly, no. If I had to, if I dug deep enough, I knew what was stopping me—myself. I was the one who immediately thought the story would suck. I was afraid people would hate the stories I put out into the world. This wouldn't be my teenage fan fiction; there weren't fandoms behind my stories that guaranteed fans. This, this chance, would be one hundred percent me.
And that terrified me.
"What's stopping you?" he asked again, softer this time.
I looked back into his eyes. He didn't need to say it quieter. The care was there, even though he didn't know me enough to give it. Yet, he did. And I looked down at my hands. Nervously, I picked at my nails. "I am," I said quickly, afraid I wouldn't be able to admit it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod. "I thought so," he said. "That's normal."
When I looked back at the window, the rain had completely stopped. The sky had lit up a bit, without the sun. A car leisurely made its way down the street as it passed the café.
"Listen," Reece's voice pulled my attention away from the windows and back into him, "I say, if you love writing and have this dream, I think you should take this chance." He quietly chuckled after. "I'm not telling you what to do or anything, but," he smiled, and lifted a hand defensively, "I'm a big believer in following your dreams."
I stared at him as he shifted in his seat to look out the windows. I'd never had someone ask me this question; never had someone make it sound so easy.
Biting my lip, I nodded. "That's a good thing to believe in."
"It is." With a grin, he glanced at me. "The rain stopped, by the way."
It did. I'd known for a minute, I just found peace sitting here, listening to Reece, looking at him. Since receiving the flyer, this was the first time thinking about writing didn't fill me with pins and needles.
I got this. I can do this.
As Reece faced me again, my mind switched. Instantly, I thought of a man reaching for my female lead. A battle had ensued, both covered in dirt, blood, and ash. When she reached for his hand, he pulled her up and laughed, saying, "What's stopping you?"
My eyes widened. "Shit." That scene would be a perfect middle-of-the-chapter moment...
Reece lifted a brow, then smirked. "You good?"
I was. My fingers itched. The need to write this was strong. "I'm... um," I pushed myself up to a stand, gulping as happiness swelled inside me, "I got an idea, and—"
"Oh. Shit." He laughed. "Don't let me stop you. Go do it."
I felt an overly excited, properly extra goofy, smile hit my face. But then it faded as I pulled my gaze away from his and looked at my unfinished food, my half-drunk tea, and the smoothie I hadn't touched.
Reece put his strong hand over the tray. "Hey, don't worry about this," he said. "I got it."
He got it. All of it?
"Just go and write whatever it is you thought of. Don't lose it." Reaching for the smoothie, he handed it to me. "Just drink this, get energy, and have fun."
Have fun? I never thought of writing that way. But because he said it with such a believable, sweet, encouraging smile, I knew I could have fun. I could enjoy it. I will.
I took the smoothie from him and bit my bottom lip. "Thank you," I whispered.
"Any time, Camila." He winked and my heart screamed. "Go be great."
The goofy smile returned. I giggled. And as I sipped my smoothie, I turned to the door.
You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net