I fiddle with the piece of paper. Her neat handwriting was almost as pretty as she was. The longer I looked, the more vivid her image engraved into my mind.
"Whatcha got there?" I jump in my seat, the voice jolting me out of my women loving thoughts. "Nothing really," I say, putting away the paper. "I know that voice, what is it?" Violet asks, a smile forming on her face. "It's just.. a phone number.. from a customer.." I say hesitantly. "Oooo~ details, now please," she demands. "Um, they ordered the cold brew. They had short, dyed hair, that was ombre from black to some shade of sea green. A black denim jacket, and a red shirt under that." "Just a red shirt? Kind of lame," Violet says. She was the absolute most likely to person to critique every little detail of your outfit. "Was it a V-neck?" "No? Why does that- never mind. They also had ripped black jeans, and combat boots."
"So, an emo chick?" Trevor asks, although it sounded more like he was asking for confirmation rather than genuinely asking. "I never said they were female," I retort. "Lani, did you forget you're out to us?" Violet asks. "..I forgot I was out to Trevor," I admit. "So, you gonna text her? Maybe ask her out?" I wanted to die in a hole. This was the last conversation I wanted to be having with these two. I mean, it was just awkward talking about another female with a straight female. Adding Trevor just makes it worse. I'm lucky Violet doesn't act like some other girls who are like "just don't get a crush on me!" "Um.. m-maybe," I reply, looking down. "Hello, what may I get you all?" the waitress asks when she came by our table. We all ordered, and thankfully Violet stopped nagging me about The Pretty Girl.
We ate our food, then I drove us back to work. Nobody came in after that. Even as I lay in bed, my mind was still on Pretty Girl. I got up, grabbed my phone, then typed the number into it. What should I say? "Hey, this is the awkward girl from the coffee shop that thinks you're really fucking hot." No, too straight forward. "Hi." No, too boring. What if this isn't even her number, and it's some, like, stripper from a 21+ only club? Odds are, probably not, but what if? I decided to go with a simple text, but not too boring.
Hey! It's the girl from Starbucks, the one you gave your number to.
I cringe as I read the text again. Of course she would know it's me! Who else did she give her number to? Wait, what if she did give her number to another person? Too late now, she got the message.
My name is Lani, what's yours?
I wait impatiently for a reply. I pace around my room, and after grabbing a can of pringles and reading a little bit, when finally:
ay, you decided to text me
Marx. That was a hot name, and it fit her perfectly.
Your name is nice.
lol yours is better
Oh, shut up.
I must've looked like the absolute biggest grinning bafoon there. She liked my name. Pretty girl likes my name. My boring, 4 lettered name. I guess hers was 4 letters, too, but it just.. fit.
what, it's pretty
just like u ;)
i expected that lmao
I chuckled softly. I then realized that I had no idea what to say next. Should I ask her some things, like what she does? My thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from my phone. Another text from Marx. My heart skipped a beat as I read the message.
so, wanna go out sometime?
My heart accelerated. I wanted to scream "Yes, yes, a billion, trillion times, yes!"
Yeah sure, I'd like that.
sweet, how bout that cinema 2 blocks down from your work?
anything u wanna see?
are you* gonna do that all the time?
Are you going to type incorrectly all the time?
i like that personality of yours
I blushed intensely. If only I was this funny in real life. At least, I thought I was being funny.
Thanks, I chose it myself.
lol very funny
anyways, seriously, anything you wanna watch?
I thought for a bit, then remembered this movie I have been wanting to watch for a while.
Call me by your name is one.
i've wanted to watch that to
fuck off, your lucky your pretty
You typed the wrong "your" both times. It's "you're."
you're no fun >:(
I'm not this funny come face-to-face, as you saw earlier.
it was pretty funny to meeee
anyways, how bout saturday at 7?
Sure, sounds great.
perfect, text me ur address n i'll pick you up at 6:30
cya then ;)
My heart leaped around in my chest, like it was doing a victory dance. I stared at our messages, my smile even bigger than before. I had a date. A date. With a hella pretty girl. My first one since sophomore year. Yay me! Then it dawned on me. Oh, God, what was I going to wear? A dress? Or maybe something more casual? What do you even wear to a date? Do you wear jeans or a skirt to a movie date? Did I even have anything other than sweatpants and worn out T-shirts? If only I had someone to freak out to. I decide to write a song to get my feelings out. I do that sometimes, when I need to talk about my emotions. I grab my ukulele, strum a few chords, then eventually a song was put together. I call it "Pretty Girl," the name I gave Marx before I knew her name. Marx. I couldn't say the name enough, it was so perfect. Some would argue that it's too perfect. I went to bed with a smile glued onto my face. Today just changed my entire life. At least, it seemed like it.
Are you enjoying my ongoing story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, LemonyCricketWrite a Review