Craving Ava

Easton

In front of me was an angel.

Her ginger hair flowed in the wind, as she pranced towards me with haste while the space around her disappeared, turning into an oblivion shade of black. An aura with a light pink hue surrounded her, indicating that she was meant for me.

She held her hand out and I sprinted towards her, desperately trying to grasp her with my fingers, to hold on to her presence as securely as I possibly could.

I reached her and thought I had her in my hands. I wrapped my arms around her with relief, but quickly felt strangely empty. I looked down, and noticed there was nothing there.

I dropped my knees onto the floor and let myself succumb to the void around me in defeat.

She was gone. And my heart had gone with her.

• ━━ •●• ━━ •

I woke up at 4:55 am, knowing my alarm-clock would ring about five minutes later. These days, I always awoke at the exact same time, no matter where I was and whether it was my day off – which, in all fairness, was never nowadays.

It was like my body had gotten used to my relentless routine, knowing it had to wake up at that very same time in order to be able to do everything that needed to get done during the day, which was never a small feat.

I got up right away, not wanting to waste a single second of those five minutes I had to spare and looked out of the window.

It was still night-time and it was raining, pouring even, just like it had been for the past couple months, as Fall had come and Winter was approaching, but that never deterred me.

I made my bed – the only chore that wasn't done by Rosa, my housekeeper, as I liked my bed to look untouched as soon as I left it – and walked through the long corridors of my penthouse in Fifth Avenue.

It was not the most expensive penthouse in New York City, although I could purchase it if I wanted to, but it was still considerably exorbitant, and undoubtedly one of my biggest accomplishments. I don't know of many people that could afford such a place, let alone redo it, stripping down its insides and redesigning them from scratch — which I did, and it took me about a year and a half as I wanted the place to be perfect.

Every time I looked at the dark marble floors, the modern decor, the neutral colored walls with wooden features and the huge colorful pieces of artwork hanging on them, I realized I did just that. This place could not be a better representation of me.

I went downstairs and into the kitchen, taking in the huge window panels that covered most of the corners of the penthouse along the way, from top to bottom. I wanted to be able see New York in its entirety from here, so the bottom floor was all open, apart from a wall that contained a fireplace in the main living room and the kitchen, which was enclosed with a big wooden arch in the entrance.

I made myself some scrambled eggs – which never tasted any good unless Rosa made them, but I ate them anyway – and my signature protein shake that contained kale, radish, spinach and broccoli, that I always drank before any workout, and swallowed all of it in one sitting.

Then, I glanced at the clock. It was 5:23 am, and I was already late. I ran upstairs, put on a watch, some running gear and a rain jacket, fully deciding to go for a run, and left the penthouse.

I got downstairs and greeted the doorman quickly, before walking out and putting the hood of my rain jacket on, and I started running without a destination. The time it took me to get down here had been enough for the sky to start hailing, making my muscles tense up every time a piece of it hit me, but I didn't have time to waste, so I pushed through it.

"I have an in-home gym." I thought to myself. "I don't know why I didn't just stay in."

Except that I did, as I only went running under these conditions when I needed to get my mind completely empty.

These past few days had not been the greatest when it came to my professional life, as there were quite a few crisis that required my undivided attention, and my mind had been elsewhere.

There were only so many ways I could blow out some steam, and this was one of them.

I ran for exactly thirty-five minutes before making my way back to the penthouse, knowing I only had exactly one hour and two minutes before having to leave, and hopped in the shower, letting the hot water and the steam comfort my sore body from all the hail that was daring enough to hit me.

After exactly twenty-two minutes I left the shower, went into my big walk-in closet and got dressed with my usual attire – dark trousers, a formal shirt buttoned all the way to the top, a dark tie and a suit matching the trousers. Then, I exited back to the bathroom, sprayed some cologne on my neck, combed my hair through and added the tiniest touch of gel, just to make sure that it stayed in place but not enough to be noticed.

• ━━ •●• ━━ •

There she was. The reason of my distraction.

The girl who hadn't left my mind and my dreams since I saw her about three months ago, when I decided to get out of the office for once and pick up my own coffee, avoiding the building's cafeteria, as what I was feeling that day was something new.

And indeed, that's what I got, right when I saw her.

Not a lot of women could capture my attention like she had, and certainly not without trying. But her... She got my attention the second she walked through the coffee shop, and she didn't even look at me once.

Mine, and every other person inside of it, that nearly gasped at the sight of someone like her, who I could only describe the look of as ethereal. She was of average stature — quite a bit shorter than me — and was wearing black army boots, long grey socks, and a semi-short, pleaded black skirt, almost school-like, which stopped at the middle of her thighs, making me feel so territorial all of a sudden.

I found myself hoping no other guy had gotten to see her in that skirt in private, with a lot less clothes on, as I wanted to be the first and only one to get such a view.

She also had on a denim jacket and a tight grey shirt which accentuated her torso perfectly, and wore a dark red lipstick, which only enhanced her features to a whole other level, making me wish I could be the one to smudge it.

It certainly wasn't the style I was used to seeing from women in New York, at least on the Upper East Side.

They were almost always wearing heels, dressed in semi-formal attire, loaded with big, heavy and luxurious pieces of jewelry wherever they could fit them.

She had a much more relaxed style, almost amusing to someone like me, but it strangely fit her like a glove.

It was like I could tell who she was by what she was wearing, without being able to figure her out at the same time.

Her long and bright, natural red hair would hang almost at her waist, and it was so unruly I could only wonder how it would feel like to hold it in my hands...

"Could I tame it?" I wondered, not sure if I was still thinking about the hair or something else.

Her light skin had a golden glow to it, only noticeable to those who dared to look for as long as I have. Her freckles were scattered all over her face and neck, concentrating more around her small button nose and round rosy cheeks, and I got the sudden urge to count them all.

Not that I could, at the distance I was at — which was at least six feet — since I was standing quite behind in line, while she was at the side of the counter, talking to a girl who I can only assume was her friend by the way they were exchanging pleasantries, but couldn't focus on, at all.

And, when she faced my direction, even though she never noticed me, I managed to get a glimpse of the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

So bright and so vibrant, only enhanced by the clarity coming from the coffee shop's massive window panels.

Suddenly I was at a loss for words, and at a complete loss for her.

I don't think I had ever paid attention to as many details as I did in such a short amount of time, however long it was that I stayed there, staring at her.

Not once did she seem to acknowledge my presence. That was new for me.

Usually people would note me almost instantly, due to my tall and broad stature, and most of them lingered for far too long. But not her.

No, she looked right through me, as if I was transparent.

Nearly instantly, I wanted to go out of my way to be noticed, not knowing how I was going to pull such a feat in a busy coffee shop without stepping out of the line, aware that I was fifteen minutes in on a twenty minute break, and that I would be late for a meeting.

But, before I could think of how I was going to make myself noticeable, the girl behind the counter handed her a drink, which I could tell was hot by the way she held it, and she stepped out of the coffee shop.

For a moment, I couldn't quite process the fact that she had left. She was just standing there not too long ago.

I stared at the coffee shop's entrance hoping she'd waltz back in, but she didn't, so I snapped out of it, stepped out of the line and ran outside, but it was too late.

She had disappeared into the city's chaos, no ginger hair strands in sight.

I couldn't stop myself from wondering if I'd ever see her again. Eventually, after days of not being able to erase her from my memory, I decided to start coming here regularly, hoping that I would find her — and told myself that next time, I wouldn't miss my shot.

And here it was.

I had her in front of me again, on the same side of the counter, talking to the same girl and I couldn't avoid feeling as excited as a teenage boy who just got his first crush.

I had been going crazy for the past ninety-three days, thinking I had imagined her due to lack of sleep, and she was nothing more than a mirage I couldn't get out of my brain.

Her hair was now braided, with a few strands out of place. She had on black Converse sneakers and blue skinny jeans that accentuated her features impeccably, almost like they were made just for her. A tight, black turtleneck shirt hugged her delicate curves in all of the right places, and she had on a grey beanie with a pompom on top, held a dark red and seemingly over-sized rain jacket, and the same dark red lipstick I have been dreaming about adorned her lips.

I couldn't help but smile at her sense of style.

So peculiar, but so refreshing at the same time.

I stepped out of the line again, not caring about whether or not I got my daily jumbo espresso for the second time ever.

Just as I was about to approach her, I got a call. I looked at the screen, only to discover that it was my mother calling, and I considered answering, hovering my thumb over the green button.

However, after a few seconds had passed, I decided I would call her later. Nothing could stand in the way of me getting this girl's attention.

Except that when I looked up, she was moving towards the coffee shop's exit. And just like the first time, she had left just as fast as she walked in.