Blind to Beauty

Chapter Three

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”  ― John Keats, Endymion: A Poetic Romance

“Celeste, get up!” Lacey hissed in my ear.

     “What do you want?” I grumbled, my voice still thick with sleep.

      “You have to go do that community service thing or whatever,” she said, throwing a pillow at my head in hopes it would hurry me to get up.

     “I don’t have to until ten, let me sleep,” I whined, rolling over.

     “It’s past ten already, idiot,” she practically screamed.

     “What?!” I squealed, sitting straight up, “why didn’t my alarm go off?”

     “It did, but you were too out of it to hear,” she mumbled, “I’ve been trying to wake you for the past hour. See what a good friend I am to you?”

     “The best,” I said, grabbing my clothes, and heading to her bathroom to take a quick shower, “but if you were really a good friend you would have had me up an hour ago!”

     “Yeah, well it’s not my fault you go deaf once you close your eyes, pinhead,” she yelled at me as I shut the bathroom door.

     “How long have we been friends? I’d think you’d know how to wake me up by now!” I shouted back at her, turning the water on in the shower.

       An award should have been giving to me for showering, drying my hair, and doing my makeup in the best time. I was done within twenty minutes. You may think that it is not that short a time, but drying my hair usually took about twenty minutes.

      Five minutes later I was out the door and yelling my goodbyes to Lacey while I ran down the front path to my car. I jumped in and started it up, and whipped out of Lacey’s driveway onto the quiet Saturday morning subdivision street. I was going a little over the speed limit—okay a lot. The signs said I was supposed to be going 25mph but I was going about 40mph. It’d be my luck that a police officer was out and about on this fine day to give me a ticket, but so far so good; no cops in sight.

      I made it to the café with not being pulled over, and quickly parked my car and jumped out. I had a feeling Seamoore wasn’t the type to take kindly the people being late.  I was a whole hour late, and I’m sure this would affect my volunteer hours. I wonder what I would have to do to make it up to him. Something stupid probably.

       Running into the café I saw Seamoore sitting at the same table we had sat at yesterday. He had his head turned out the window, making it look like he was staring out the window. He was dressed like he was yesterday, but he wasn’t wearing dress pants, instead he was wearing plain blue jeans. His sports coat was a beige color, witch padding on the sleeves, giving him the vintage look. He didn’t wear a tie, but just a white dress shirt with the first few buttons undone.

       I hurriedly made my way over to him, throwing my oversized purse on the table, along with my keys. I was just about to sit down when he stood up, and started walking towards the door, not saying a word to me. I sighed and grabbed my stuff, and followed after him.

      “Good morning,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.

      “You’re late,” he said, nonchalantly.

      “No shit, Einstein,” I mumbled to myself, “sorry, I over slept.”

      “No shit Einstein,” he said, to me, walking towards my car.