Half a Heart

The moment Aurora James walked into my life, I thought I was done for. I was in a café, half falling asleep over whatever article I was reading for Business Statistics and by that point in my life, any pretty girl that even considered a glance at me was definitely my soulmate, meant to change my life as I knew it.

It was all a bit exhausting in hindsight.

But there she was, this goddess that seemed unaware of exactly how much of my attention she had captured, ordering what sounded like a double espresso from the counter and I remember distinctly thinking, that must make her a badass.

My coffee that was more sugar and milk than coffee was sitting half-finished on the small table I had occupied for myself, buried in articles about statistics and statistics about articles. It was my way of trying out coffee after I had discovered that it does, indeed, taste like shit, but unwilling to give up the title of a coffee drinker.

I watched Aurora – who at the time was gorgeous human number 3 – sit down at a table in the farthest corner with her double espresso in hand. She pulled her chair back, then grabbed another one from a nearby table, and finally sat down. She was tall, I could tell, but she was wearing heels and I was sure that meant she was self-assured in a way I could only dream to be.

She was also wearing a flowing skirt, I remember specifically, not only because I had snuck so many glances at her that day, but also because it had looked like water clinging to her legs when she first walked in. As she sat down, it looked like a waterfall around her, and I couldn’t help but stare at it. I was wearing jeans and a hoodie and suddenly, despite not knowing her, I felt under-dressed.

The café I was at was a usual spot for me, but it was also usual for most university students here. It usually got crowded around midday, or during exam season, but at that time it was 9 a.m, on a Monday morning in November, and most people didn’t bother to start studying just yet.

I wouldn’t have had either, except for the fact that I had a quiz to get ready for. My getting ready wasn’t working though, because every other second, I was stealing a glance at this wonderful creature that had sat down with the apparent intent to drink her coffee and wait.

She wasn’t on her phone either, which struck me as weird, especially because she didn’t seem to be doing much to begin with. But her hand had started playing with her long hair and it was then that I noticed the ends had a hint of pink to them. If it was accidental or on purpose, I couldn’t figure it out. She waited for a good fifteen minutes before someone else showed up.

I hadn’t meant to be prying but I could immediately tell the guy that walked in was there for her. He was lean and tall, probably taller than her and she was already quite tall to begin with, with dark brown hair and a smirk that appeared on his face as soon as he saw her.

I couldn’t hear them, and I tried hard not to look at them either, going back to my coursework in the hopes that I could get through at least half of what I needed to know before lunch. I was three pages in when I noticed both their bags sat on the extra chair she had pulled out earlier. It seemed like such a power move, to change the design of a café for your liking, even if slightly, but it also struck me as a bit rude. There weren’t many people in the café, but that was bound to change as soon as students were done with their first class of the day.

No one asked for the chair back, though.

I remember I caught her eye once, when she was looking away from the guy across her. She did not seem to register my presence though. If anything, her eyes were vacant, finding nothing more interesting than me.

I wanted her to see me then, not to look through me but at me, consider me as I was considering her, with the same fascination and intent that I had for her. But her eyes remained vacant for a while. By the time she had regained her focus, her eyes had already turned back on the guy.

They were still talking by lunch, and it was as I started gathering my things that I realised they were whispering. Whatever, I wasn’t planning to listen in to random strangers’ conversations just because they looked like out of the cover of a magazine. I had not reached that level of creepy yet, nor was I intending to.

I left the café that day and didn’t give her more than a passing thought about how pretty she had looked, rather than her.