Page 18 of Broken Pieces
If I’m being brutally honest, when I wake up, my thoughts go to her and I instantly itch to get my fix, to see that beautiful bright smile and big hazel eyes that changecolor with whatever she’s wearing. I wonder what color they will be today? I hope they are that caramel light brown that blends with the light green and gold. That’s my favorite of them all.
I got the bright—more like stupid— idea to come to the coffee shop, because I also miss those days where she would find me invading her favorite space, ready to banter. I've been pretty spoiled, seeing her every single day. Those stolen glances at work are simply not enough anymore. I find myself craving more of her every day. Craving the ray of sunshine she brings into my gray, dull life with her fiery personality and all.
So here I stand, like some lovesick fool.
Aria turns the corner to get to the coffee shop, engrossed in her phone—as I’ve come to find out it’s her usual thing to do—looking incredibly beautiful. She has this endearing, quirky librarian look going on. It’s really fucking cute if I say so myself. She’s rocking a white long-sleeve tee with a brown cami dress, fuzzy white socks, and white Converse. Her hair is in its signature messy bun showcasing her beautiful gold freckles. She has little to no makeup today, except for her usual pouty red lips that would look so good around my cock—Nope. I’m not going to finish that thought. That’s incredibly inappropriate.
Great, now I have a boner at nine in the fucking morning.
“Hey, Darling,” I rasp.
My voice comes out shakier than I was planning because of the fucking impure thought and all. It's incredibly frustrating how good she looks all the time. I have no one but myself to blame though, since I can’t seem to take my eyes off of her every time she’s near me. She’s like a magnetic pull, my eyes just—accidentally—roam her from head to toe every single time.
She looks up, her eyes filling in suspicion as she looks me up and down. My gaze locks on hers, and I thank the heavens her eyes have a hint of that caramel brown I like so much. I could simply get lost in them. They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before going to bed. So bright and alluring like the stars.
“Following me again, are we?” she teases.
I extend the hand holding her coffee. “Why must you always think the worst of me?” I tilt my head in question.
She takes the coffee, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “I need to get one for Isabella too.”
I shake my head. “Already took care of it.”
She squints her eyes, dropping her gaze to my hands where I’m holding my coffee. “So where is it?”
“Dropped it off at the office and came back to wait for you,” I say honestly.
“Why?”
Her question throws me for a loop. “Why what?”
“Why did you comeback here?”
The lie slips easily off my lips. “Well, to give you the coffee, of course. Didn’t want you to spend money on a drink I already got you. You know?” My voice comes out a little strained at the end, and I’m hoping it doesn’t give my bullshit excuse away.
Her eyes lock on mine, and God, her fucking eyes are so beautiful. They’re a welcome reprieve of the racing thoughts that go through my mind every second of the day.
She takes a hefty sip and groans in satisfaction. “How do you know my order?”
“I asked Isabella.” The lies just keep rolling off my tongue. I’m so infatuated with this woman that I know everything I could possibly have learned without crossing stalking territory.
Tilting her head toward the sidewalk with a smile, she replies, “Shall we? These paintings are not going to discover themselves.”
We start walking quietly toward the gallery, and while I typically take my car everywhere, I wouldn’t change this for the world. Any moment I get to spend with her outside of work is a blessing in disguise. I should be setting that hard professional boundary, but it’s been blurring more and more every day, and I’m not sure where I stand anymore.
“What did you think about the potential collection I sent you?” she asks, taking me out of my trance.
“It was too abstract for me, to be quite honest.”
She nods, swirling her cup of coffee as she ponders. “I actually agree for once.”
I stop dead in my tracks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “I’m sorry. Did you justagreewith me?” Closing the distance between us, I place the back of my hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. “Well, you don’t have a fever, but Hell must definitely be freezing over as we speak.”
She moves my hand out of her way jokingly, casting me a glare. “Have I ever told you how annoying you are?”
A smile plays on my lips. “No. But I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.” I love bantering with this woman so much, and I just know she loves it too.
“Well, just for the record, you are,” she replies with a hint of amusement, crossing her arms.
