Lucy

There was something about this girl that sparked my interest. To this day, I’m not sure exactly what it was. The obvious choices would be her smile, her voice, her shape. But those would be too generic. Nothing about Lucy was generic.

I’ll settle for saying it was the Nirvana shirt. Red with all 3 three members cradling their instruments like much adored children. Of course, everyone who wanted to call themselves hip owned a Nirvana something, without knowing a single song besides “Smells like Teen Spirit”. But there was something different about this girl. She didn’t wear her shirt as a billboard, advertising her coolness. She wore it like someone who wasn’t even aware of it, as if it were a plain red T-shirt.

Call me crazy, but that was what first attracted me to her.

Call me crazier, but I spent the next 20 minutes practically stalking her. She was standing in the historical fiction section, idly scanning titles, while I was in science fiction, idly scanning her. Peering behind the cracks in the shelves where books were missing, I thought of what I could say to her. Frankly, I refused to be seen by her until I had an entire monologue constructed. This girl, I could tell, would not be the average slut I was into, the kind you could snap your fingers at and have their clothes off in less than a minute. No, this girl would require seducing, coquetting, areas at which I excelled, but barely ever needed. I figured this would be easy.

But then I saw those eyes. Those doe brown eyes, flecked with gold. Those gold-flecked eyes, boring into my soul. Those eyes draining me of my ego and self-righteousness. Damn those eyes.

She saw me. There was no escape. She’d seen me. Like an idiot, I tried to run, but she cornered me in front of the Douglas Adams books. For the first time, I saw her in full. She was a bit on the small side, height and weight wise. I couldn’t tell from the baggy T-shirt, but she must have had a nice figure.

“Were you watching me?” her blood red lips moved in seductive patterns, letting out a rich, Spanish infused melody. It was like a song you wanted to put on repeat.

“Answer me!” those eyes were piercing me again, this time with irritation.

“N-no,” I mumbled, playing with the fraying hem of my skirt. “I-I was looking for a book,” How the hell could this girl I’d known no more than 10 seconds, who’s name I didn’t even know have so much power over me? Her lips spread like rose petals into a knowing smile. Those eyes must have seen through my feeble lie.

“Work on your poker face, honey,” she said. “My name’s Luciela. Call me Lucy. Next time, just ask me,” She extended a slim, caramel colored hand, waiting for mine in return. I shakily extended it, suddenly frightened at the prospect of touching, actually touching, this girl. It felt wrong for my hands to be on her. It was like sandpaper on the surface of marble. “Good grip,” she smiled wide, exposing pearly white teeth. I nodded appreciatively, looking down at my shoes, unsure of how to respond. Suddenly all my clever pickup lines went straight out the window. Luckily, Lucy took care of all that for me.

“So why were you stalking me?” the words came out coolly, almost nonchalantly.

“I wasn’t stalking you,” I lied lamely.

“I see. So what would you call hiding behind library shelves to catch a peek at me, eh?” a wide smile graced her face as a deep blush crept onto my own.

“The truth is, you’re s-s-stunning,” I trembled. Why the hell did I say that? She must think I’m a creepy Peeping Tom now. Why else would I call her stunning of all things within the first 5 minutes of making her acquaintance?

“Not so bad yourself,” she chuckled, touching my arm. Out of the blue, she whips out a folded piece of paper and holds it under my nose. “I’ll have to go soon. Keep this. Adios, amor.” She blew me a kiss and walked out the door, swinging her hips seductively. She must have known I was watching intently.

I unfolded the piece of notebook paper, which had written in a slanted script:

If you’re reading this, one of us finally got the nerve to talk to the other. Hope you put this to good use. (480)-524-7659.

I stared at the paper and then at the now empty doorway. Was it a joke or had she really been watching me as I watched her? Could smooth, cool Lucy really have been a nervous wreck like I’d been? Hopefully, these 10 digits held the answers.