Page 6 of See Her

“Hey,” his soulful voice brings my eyes back up to see his blue pools soften as he gives an endearing tilt of his head. “So we’re both out of practice. Let’s just use it to say what we want then.”

Though one corner of my mouth likes the sound of that, I feel a bit unsure. It’s sad that a seemingly nice guy wanting to get to know me has my hackles up, but here we are. Thank you, male species.

“Can I ask you something first?” I redirect, with a scrunch of my brow. I feel like such an ass, but he lifts his eyebrows with considerate interest and nods. “What made you want to stick around and talk to me?”

I’m dying to know his answer. This cannot be happening just out of luck.

“I know it was probably weird how I approached you,” he says, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up at me; his eyes are intent on conveying his next words. “First, I heard your laugh…”

I close my eyes in embarrassment, but try to offer a lighthearted smile. I can laugh at myself.

“… and it lit me up inside,” he finishes, tilting his chin up at me and staring me down with those sparkling dark blues. A bolt of beautifully soft lightning electrifies my insides, and I can’t help but wonder if it feels like what he just described.

“My laugh?” I parrot back in disbelief, leaning back to try and gauge if he’s messing with me. “Seriously?”

“And then your smile,” he adds, easily, and I shake my head, still blown away by what I’m hearing. I don’t think any guy has ever said this to me.

“Don’t get me wrong, my life is just fine,” he shares, sitting back and resting an arm across the back of the bench, “but it’s also very mundane in some ways.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “The truth is, I haven’t been able to write anything decent in several months. I think I’ve hit a wall because nothing’s inspired me lately.” He holds his hands out as if to saythat’s lifeand he’s not feeling sorry for himself over it, but I can still tell it bums him out.

“Then you laughed in the café…” A warm smile comes across his face as if he’s reliving it, “and it made me smile. It made me want to laugh along with you, and it made me realize I hadn’t felt much in a while. Like I’ve been on autopilot.”

My heart squeezes itself so tight at what he just said I wonder if heart cramp is a thing. Even if I never see this guy again, I know I’ll forever remember this moment.

“Only I wasn’t man enough to come talk to you; you came to me. That blew me away all over again, along with your smile, and the obscene amount of sugar you put in your coffee.” He offers me a companionable laugh that melts away any embarrassment I might normally feel from that.

“I like my coffee sweet,” I offer with a half-shrug, returning his laugh, and we sit quietly for a few moments. It’s surprisingly comfortable; no traces of awkwardness.

“Laughing is my favorite thing to do by the way,” I finally reveal.

“Laughing?” He raises his eyebrows as if he just doesn’t understand.

“Yeah,” I say coyly, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. I’m feeling shy in the moment, but after what he just shared with me, the least I could do is answer his question from before. “I’ma yogi, I dance downtown in a studio, I love walking my dog, but more than anything else, I love laughing. It just feels good.”

“I’ll have to pay attention next time I do it,” he sighs warmly. “Seriously though,” he continues, “I knew I wanted to know more and didn’t want it to end with me handing you a sugar canister.” He leaves his eyes on me for a moment, letting them flirt with mine.

“I’ll be honest,” I reply, trying to swallow down my jitters, “I didn’t either.”

“I like that you’re not shy.” He gives my knee a friendly bump with his, sending electrical impulses up that side of my body and making my nerves go haywire again.

“Oh, trust me, I am.” I roll my eyes at myself.

“Well, I like that you’re not too shy to tell me that.” Another silence takes over that’s oddly relaxed for two people that have only just met.

“So… you said you’re having trouble with your songs?” I ask, trying to keep this going for even a moment longer.

“Oh… yeah.” He lets out an uncomfortable breath. “Writer’s block can be a real bitch.” He shakes his head and I can tell that he’s trying to keep his trials lighthearted.

“I bet she can be,” I comment. “I’ve gotten stuck on papers back in school and sometimes with my copywriting, but I don’t think I actually have had it. What does it feel like?”

“It’s when something you used to do so easily, just one day won’t show up for you.You keep writing every day, but everything you come up with is just…” He trails off for a second.“You look down at what you’ve written, and nothing will click. It won’t spark any kind of feeling, and it sounds like garbage. It’s like you can almost see the mental block in your brain,” he says, bringing his finger to his temple.

“What kinds of songs do you usually write?” I ask.

“Some songs are just things I come up with. Others are based on real experiences I’ve had or people I know.”

“Well, I hope you can break through this wall and writemore. I can see you like being creative too, and that shouldn’t have to be blocked. It should be shared with the world.” A look passes over his face, like one of realization, but it’s gone so quickly I think I must’ve imagined it.

“Can we see each other again?” he asks, seemingly out of nowhere.A wave of disappointment comes over me as he seems to be signaling the end of conversation, but it’s quickly replaced with one of hope once I register that he just asked to see me again.

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