"Neck kisses, coffee dates & midnight car rides."
I tried to show Harry how I see him, but he just wanted to see himself how other people did...
Contains mature content/sexual scenes/drugs/curse words/mental illness
I've been sitting in the "Beachwood cafe" since six in the morning. I was the first person to arrive because I really needed to start my artwork as soon as possible, and here, I am very good at concentrating and starting to do what I love. But unfortunately for some reason, not today. Sitting here for hours now, I've been trying to find inspiration by scratching the paper with the tip of my pencil and constantly drawing ugly portraits. Once again, I was approached by a waiter whom I know by appearance since I go here for breakfast almost every morning.
«Do you want anything else?» He smiled sweetly at me, showing his plump cheeks.
«A cup of another vanilla latte would be wonderful» The young man has red hair and a lot of freckles on his face, which are scattered on his cheeks like kisses left by the sun.
The waiter takes an empty plate and an empty latte cup, I carefully follow his movements, looking at his details, trying to catch at least something to find inspiration. But everything is meaningless, no matter how attractive this waiter is, he does not have that spark that makes you freeze at the sight of him and want to consider every detail of him.
«Are you a writer?» The guy was still standing nearby and trying to look on my sketchbook, most likely thinking that I was writing some kind of book.
«Hmm... no, I'm just drawing» I shrug my shoulders and close the sketchbook so as not to attract even more attention.
«So you're an artist?»
I smile sweetly when I hear this statement, I do not allow myself to call myself that, it is too important a title for me.
«Yes, something like that» I purse my lips, feeling awkward in the conversation. It's very difficult for me to meet new people, not that there is any good reason for it, I just don't need to do it and leave my comfort zone.
The waiter nods at me and straightens his hair, goes to the bar, I notice the notifications come to the phone. This is a message from Maddie.
"Blondie, how are you?"
"Not really good"
"Changed your mind about the offer?"
"No, just don't have any inspiration at all"
The waiter comes back and puts my order on the table for me, I thank him and continue to answer my friend's messages until I hear an accent that is rather unusual for this place. The voice is very calm and low, like a baritone, I look up and notice a young man dressed in green trousers and a brown sweater. Usually, such a strange combination of clothes isn't a classic style on the busy streets of New York, people preferred dark colors for a long time and all their clothes were ordinary and very boring, but this guy looked great. He is like a Greek god, so handsome that looking at him feels like a crime. I understand that it is wrong to openly look at this guy like this. He looks about 25-26 years old, definitely no more, with a neatly defined lower jaw, a nose straight to perfection, his lips are plump throughout, not too thin, and his upper lip is heart-shaped. From my table, unfortunately, I can't see the color of his eyes. As soon as he entered this cafe, the waiters began to smile more, maybe because he came in with an equally accusatory smile, or they, like me, could not take their eyes off him. Without thinking, I reluctantly take my eyes off him and quickly start sketching his face on paper, afraid that he will leave this cafe just as quickly as he entered.
"You have a talent"
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