Author: Belli Bear aka Bell
Rating: S for Sweeeeeeeet
Disclaimers: I dont own nothin or nothin
Summary: A certain redhead, who shall remain nameless, spots a famous face.
Notes: I wrote the first few paragraphs of this on a whim a few weeks back, I've spent the night fine-polishing it so here we go. This will proooobably be a one-post story, unless in the near future I get hit by the writing bug and post a sequal.
Feedback: Yes please!!
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I smiled at her, trying to keep the utter terror of my nervousness somewhat at bay, ‘I’m sorry to bother you.. but I.. um..’ I paused. Did I really want to be another one of those pathetic love-sick fans, begging for a painfully one-sided conversation to ensue? Knowing the answer I frowned at myself. Gathering my thoughts I regarded her intriguing face with a shy interest ‘sorry.. I didn’t mean to intrude, I..’ I frowned again and desperately wondered exactly when my motor functions decided they wanted to nap. ‘uh.. Merry Christmas!’ Mortified, I stumbled away before I could cause anymore damage and reclaimed my corner booth seat. The coffee bar was small, private, one could even stretch it so far as to say it was intimate. A truly beautiful setting in the eye of any skeptic, and here I was, being ever so dapper, hiding my face behind my coffee cup, the image of her burning incessantly beneath my tightly closed eyelids.
Had my eyes been open I would have seen her surprised expression at my interruption, the slow and steady movement of her delicate lips as they morphed into a curious and all together dizzying smile. I would have realized that she had set down her novel and moved towards my booth, I would have been completely aware that at that moment in time, as I quietly banged my head against my teaspoon and cursed every time the metal flung up and punched me in the mouth, that she was sitting across from me, ever so patiently, in her typical English manner, blonde hair glowing, watching me and waiting.
Oblivious, I glared down as the offending piece of metal struck me again. ‘Yoooou fiend! Call yourself a teaspoon, I don’t see any tea on this table, no siree, so what does that make you? A phony that’s what.’ My eyes narrowed into frustrated slits as I regarded its shiny face ‘fiend…’ I smacked my head down one last time, smacking the spoon for good measure.
‘um not quite…’
My head shot up, my eyes blinked, my mouth opened, my pride dissolved and my entire nervous system went on strike. It was then that I knew this encounter would end terrifically.
‘uh…’ I cringed; immediately realizing I had no hope of escaping the sheer oddity of my behavior ‘hello.. there…eh’ I sighed and focused on not looking at the face I knew belonged to that beautifully soft and eloquent voice, stumbling over myself briefly I spoke without much thought ‘nonsense, its quite clearly a metallic fiend’
And then it happened, I heard her laugh, it was about as clear as a London fog in my cloudy and overloaded brain, but there it was. If my body had at all been in my control I wouldn’t have looked, I wouldn’t have even spoken a word. Yet, already, I was so helpless to her presence. My eyes traced their way through the wooden patterns of the table, over each individual grain of coffee that randomly littered its surface, the open sugar packets I had left strewn about the place, past the now maliciously so-called ‘tea spoon’ right to the tips of her slender fingers.
They did not hold her tea cup; they cradled it, in the deepest and most intimate sense of the word. It was as if it were her hands alone that held it aloft, that kept it strong and warm, and somewhere in my mind, unbidden thoughts arose over the power she held in her mysterious, entrancing digits. I felt a storm brew, housed deep within in the dark windows of my eyes, one that not even I could hope to cease, it was my submission to this sensation that led to my first encounter with her warm, soft, dangerous eyes.
‘hello…’ had she spoken it? I could not tell you. I was helpless to anything but the sight of her, that a face so timeless and beautiful could be so.. capable, it stirred a heat within my chest that burned bright and strong. A thousand emotions played upon the sepia film of her stormy eyes and I was lost to them, and furthermore, to this day, I swear she knew it.
She broke contact first and smiled shyly ‘I have tea you see… so your spoon is no longer a phony..’
As internally, I scrambled to gather my co-ordination and my wits, externally I smiled, and held the small spoon, stroking a single finger down its length in fond contemplation ‘no longer a phony.. yet always a fiend’ my eyes moved back up to hers yet I found she was watching my finger, smiling I stilled it and was greeted by a beautiful blush and even more stunning laughter.
I took a breath to steady myself and began the process of explaining myself ‘I’m sorry about before.. I didn’t mean to interrupt your afternoon. It’s not something I usually do… I just, recognized you, and as soon as that happened my body went ‘well say hello you fool!’ and before my brain could process it for possible embarrassing outcomes there I was, violating your coffee-table space and making a big fool of myself. Although, upon further analysis, it does appear that me leaving may have been the worst possible thing to do as you now know that I converse with my eating utensils and even go as far as to bestow personality types on them…’
She looked at me in a funny sort of way, as if she was trying to understand or decide something deeply complex. Whatever it was, she seemed to reach her conclusion as within seconds I was granted another of her sweet and unpresuming smiles ‘Oh I don’t know, I have the habit of naming mine’ My eyebrows shot up in disbelief, could I possibly had found someone as quirky about cutlery as me? ‘name.. you NAME your cutlery?’ I couldn’t help but chuckle as I said it and the blush I got in return was completely worth it.
‘well, not everything, mostly just spoons and forks.. I don’t really do knives, I guess I’ve never been one for the phallic’ I let a squeak escape me and her expression stiffened, her features regarding me in horror ‘uh.. I mean, well, I didn’t mean that! Well, I mean honestly its true but I didn’t mean to put it so crudely, not that it was something I wanted to expose, not that I don’t trust you with it, oh dear this isn’t at all how I pictured our conversation going’
My laughter broke through her rushed excuses and finally settled into an unstoppable grin, I had become so relaxed in her presence that I spoke without thought ‘oh no! Don’t apologize! It’s a good thing!’
She raised her eyebrow at me and something in her features convinced me that she now had the upper hand in our interlude. ‘A good thing’ she pondered for a moment, her eyes never leaving my hands, I struggled to keep them still and in a somewhat casual position under her intense scrutiny ‘a good thing that I’m um.. anti-phallic or a good thing that I’m open about it?’
I don’t think she intended it, but her question hit a target deep inside my chest and I struggled with my answer. ‘well, um, I guess it depends on you’re point of view? Both I guess? And hey anyway, this is just you trying to deter me from interrogating you about you’re habit of naming cutlery.’ My laugh was nervous but the smile I received for it was understanding and genuine. Looking back I suppose I expected us to easily slip back into the ‘safe zone’ of cutlery names, instead, I heard her speak in a low tone which betrayed a certain note of vulnerability in her warm features ‘and what is your point of view stranger?’ at her final word her eyes drifted up to meet my own and caused me to swallow down hard, soft and steady they studied me, as if trying to crawl inside and read my thoughts.
I chewed over her question in my mind, not because I was unsure of the answer, but because I was unsure of the reception it would get. I settled on the probably lacking ‘my point of view is.. I’m.. humbled to have met you and…’ I bit my lip and shut my eyes for a moment; there was something in her stare I could not escape, what it was however, baffled me.. ‘and maybe we can meet again, sometime, if you want, and don’t see me as a weird stalker freak whose trying to ram themselves into your life’
I was met with silence so I swallowed once more and steeled myself for the difficulty of meeting her gaze. She was chewing on her bottom lip, a habit I had seen her carry out in a few television interviews, she looked so similar to that shy, reticent Hollywood face I was so use to seeing on the news and entertainment channels, but I was no fool, I knew that the woman I was sitting by was someone entirely different, someone so innately personal and openly intimate that it humbled me beyond words to be in her presence.
Still leaving me drowning in awkward silence, she took out a piece of light blue paper and a pen and wrote down a number. ‘This is my personal line, please… keep it safe’ she smiled tiredly, as if it were a chore she desperately loathed to do. I took the scrap of paper in a kind of stupor as she continued ‘you can call me whenever you like, I live here now, in the city, so let me know when your free and we’ll.. meet again’ my heart fluttered.. another of her beautiful laughs.. I smiled openly at her roundabout agreement and yet, I was saddened at the same time that everything she did had to be so veiled, so hidden in interpretation.
We both stood at the same time, our eyes fixed on each other. She tucked her book away in her bag and began to step away ‘goodbye then…’ I smiled sweetly as her innate shyness took hold of her once more ‘goodbye…’ I watched her retreat and then tried to casually slip the fiendish teaspoon into my pocket. I blinked at the table as my eyes fell on a previously unnoticed scrap of light blue paper ‘frank’ it had written on it ‘his name is frank’ with a tiny picture of a spoon with devil horns coming out of it. Holding it tight in my hand I slipped out of the booth and into the world; my smile would have blinded the sun.
The End (or is it?)
! I love this piece. I loved the first version and i love how you've written both. You write beautifully, honestly and always have. If you can find it in your heart, please write summore. 