Moons, Stars & Fragile Hearts

A Cancer’s sign is the crab. Crabs have a shell that they tend to stay inside for comfort – they’re painfully shy and tend to stray away from the spotlight. Eventually, though, they open up when they feel safe around a new friend.

The blank canvas in front of me stared back in a menacing way, almost taunting me. My eyes narrowed at it, sizing it up in hopes that it would back down. Of course, the intimidate object stood high and mighty on the isle as I let my imagination get the better of me, convincing me that I was losing a battle against something that couldn’t talk or move.

This never happened to me.

I, Leyla Taylor, had never come to a blank before. I never couldn’t think of something to paint. I always had at least the smallest idea of what my fingers were twitching to let loose. And even if I didn’t, the minute I picked up the brush, the ideas would come with ease, perking me up and bringing a rather smug smile to my lips.

But now all I was left with was a frown and a creased brow.

As I racked my mind for ideas, my phone began vibrating loudly against one the cleaner tables in the paint room. I looked behind me with wide eyes, the loud noise startling me before it came to my understanding that someone was trying to get a hold of me; someone was stupid enough to call during this time, my time.

A sneer overpowered the frown that had once been on my face as I walked over to the phone and pressed the green button with my thumb, bringing it to my ear. I snapped at the caller, letting all my frustration out them, “Hello, asshole?”

“Leyla?”

“Tom?”

“Nice greetin’,” He chuckled. I looked back at the canvas from over my shoulder before deciding to shrug it off for now; Tom was somehow good at cheering me up and maybe that’s exactly what I needed for inspiration – a friend.

“Sorry, I’m not in the best mood. What’s up?” I asked as I sat down on the paint-stained stool. Resting my elbows upon the crowded table filled with sketchbooks and pencil shavings, I let my free hand run through my dark brown locks of hair that had been tossed into a messy bun.

“Nothin’ much, jus’ home, messin’ around with my cameras. I was thinkin’ we could go get some coffee and take a stroll around the park,” Tom offered, shuffling noises coming from the other end of the line. I bit my lip as I thought about it; something felt terribly off. There was some reason I couldn’t say yes, but I didn’t know what it was.

I stared at the canvas across the room as I tried my hardest to think about what could possibly be the cause of this unordinary feeling of doubt. I thought about Tom’s offer – a stroll in the park and coffee.

“Coffee!” I said loudly, my voice echoing through the room as my hand slammed down on the desk, pencil shavings fluttering to the floor. My eyes widened as I removed the phone from my ear and looked to see what time it was – 2:54 P.M.

As I stared at the time in utter shock, I heard Tom’s small voice from the phone, “Yes, Leyla, coffee, tha’ caffeinated stuff tha’ yeh told me yeh couldn’ live without; gives yeh headaches or somethin’ like tha’ if yeh don’ have yeh daily cup.”

I pressed the phone back to my ear and sighed, “Yeah, I’ve grown an addiction to the stuff through the years. But I already promised Curtis I would get coffee with him.”

For a moment, it was a silent. I glanced at my phone to see if maybe we had gotten disconnected, but the amount of time for the call was still going, raising my phone bill with each passing minute. Tom suddenly piped up, “Like a date?”

I sighed. This question disturbed me; I had been asking myself the same thing since Curtis proposed the idea. But he had said he didn’t want to call it a date. I wasn’t sure how to take this and I still wasn’t when the day came around that he was going to take me out. I explained this to Tom, adding on, “I kind of feel uncomfortable now. I totally put myself out there and he’s acting like he just wants a friendship.”

Tom snickered, “A friendship? Leyla, yeh insane if yeh think Curtis isn’ even the slightes’ bit into yeh. Olleh tells me yeh all he’s been thinkin’ about actually. He probably just doesn’ like the idea of dates, not jus’ specifically a date with yeh.”

“I have to get ready,” I muttered, hoping deeply that Tom was right. “I’ll call you later to tell you how it went.”

_________________________________________________________________

I rushed to get ready, leaving my make up natural and messily curling the ends of my long, brown hair. I threw on my light blue, spaghetti strapped floral dress that came up a little before mid-thigh, quickly throwing on my deeper blue, long cardigan as well and topping it off with a thin, white high-waisted belt.

When I was finally fully dressed and my hair and make up was as flawless as it could get, I slipped on my white gladiator sandals and grabbed my bag. I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand and read, ‘4:23.’

The plan was I’d meet Curtis at the small coffee house not too far from my home at 4:30. It was a ten minute drive there; I was running late. I rushed out of the apartment quickly, one of my hands digging through my purse as I tried to find my ring of keys. When I walked up to the hood of my car, I set my purse down and searched through it for my keys. It seemed to be endless; I found long lost chapsticks and lighters before my finger hit the alarm of my car. It beeped loudly beside me as my hand fumbled to grab the keys and pull them out as my thumb pressed the button. The obnoxiously loud noise died quickly before I unlocked the doors and got in, grabbing my bag from the hood.

I drove to the coffee shop as hurriedly as traffic would let me, arriving a good fifteen minutes later than originally arranged. I walked briskly into the coffee shop to see Curtis sitting near the small table for two by the door. I looked down at him as he looked up towards the door with big, brown, hopeful eyes. When he saw it was me, he smiled and stood up.

“Fashionably late, aye?” He asked, a crooked smile playing on his lips. I blushed as he opened his arms for a hug and stepped into the embrace. My arms wrapped around his torso as he leaned down and rested his hands on my lower back.

“I’m so sorry, I lost track of time,” I mumbled against his black Pierce the Veil shirt. We let go of each other, Curtis’s hand taking a hold of mine as he lead me to the line.

“No worries, yeh here now and that’s all tha’ matters,” He said, smiling down at me. I smiled back up at him and laced my fingers with his as I turned to the menus. I needed something strong; I hadn’t had my daily cup of coffee. Thankfully my headache hadn’t kicked in just yet but without it, I knew I was going to be fairly cranky tomorrow.

When the line finally dispersed before us, Curtis and I walked up to the teenager behind the register. She looked at us, smiling wide as the blonde ponytail on the top of her head bounced around with every swish of her head, “Wha’ can I ge’ yeh two?”

“I’ll have an iced black coffee,” Curtis said as his free hand fumbled to get his brown pleather wallet out of his back pocket. The girls nodded, pressing buttons on the cash register before turning towards me with her ridiculously large, fake smile.

“And yeh?”

“Uh, I’m a separate order,” I said, glancing up at Curtis. He rolled his eyes before shaking his head, his dark hair getting into his eyes; something that always made me go crazy.

“No, yeh not,” He said lowly, his small smile softening, “I told yeh I were taken yeh out for coffee. Meaning I’m payin’, Leyla.”

“Fine,” I agreed, scrunching up my nose distastefully. I wasn’t one of those people who would make a scene if someone wanted to pay for me. He chuckled a little at my quick surrender as I turned to the girl and asked politely, “Can I have a regular coffee with soy milk and two shots of espresso, please?”

“Certainly,” The blond girl said, totaling up our orders, “Eight pounds and thirty five pence.”

Curtis swung open his wallet but eventually let go of my hand to extract the money from it. It dangled against my thigh dismally as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket. The moment his hand returned back to his side, I casually let my hand bump into his. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Curtis smile a little as my hand slipped into his, our fingers instantly interweaving with each other.

We walked over to the small, red, circular table in the front of the coffee house as we waited for our order, but even when we sat down, our hands stayed linked together underneath the table.

“So Leyla, tha’ was pretty hipster of yeh,” Curtis piped up. I cocked my head to the side and shot him an odd look as a playful smirk rested upon his face, “Who else drinks soymilk voluntarily?”

I laughed, “So drinking soymilk with my coffee makes me a hipster?”

“Well I mean, with yeh paintings and yeh little sweaters, I don’ know how much I can take,” He teased, squeezing my hand gently. I shook my head, giggling a little to myself as I rolled my eyes.

“At least I’m not some metal head in a shitty band,” I shot back cheerfully.

“Shitty band? Oh, tha’ hurt,” He said, putting his free hand to his heart and faking pain. He lowered his head, his mop of hair covering his face. I giggled at his silly sense of humor which made him smile as he raised his head back up, his soft brown eyes meeting mine. For a moment, we both didn’t say anything, just watched each other. And suddenly a solemn look took over Curtis’s features as he asked seriously, “Yeh really don’ like my band?”

I laughed again before shrugging and looking down at the table, “It’s nothing personal. I’m just not a fan of screaming. It gives me headaches.”

“So then wha’ do yeh listen to?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed, twisting my mouth to the side as I thought. “I can’t really put a genre on my music. I just like listening to music that really inspires me; music that gives me ideas for my paintings and stuff.”

“Well wha’ was the very last artist yeh listened teh?”

“Probably Feist.”

“Oh God,” Curtis moaned, flipping some of the hair out of his eyes. I rose an eyebrow at him curiously as he snickered, “I had an ex who listened to her all the time. Wouldn’ let me listen to anything but ‘Feist’ when I was with her.”

“She sounds obnoxious,” I said slowly, not sure how I felt about talking about his ex. It was a sketchy area; the fact that he was bringing her up could mean he wasn’t over her and just the idea of him being interested in another girl made me feel awful.

“She were,” He shuddered, sneering a bit to himself. A very small awkward pause passed before Curtis said, “But she’s in the past now.”

I smiled, finding my confidence again. It didn’t take him long to redeem himself, so I gave him credit for pushing the subject aside as I leaned forward a little and said, “Well, I can promise you one thing.”

“Oh, really?” He smirked, “And wha’ may tha’ be?”

“I’m probably nothing like her.”

Curtis eyed me conspicuously, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to figure out what exactly I meant. I smiled at his small inner struggle. But just when he opened his mouth to ask, the worker behind the counter yelled out, “One black iced coffee and one regular coffee with soy and two shots of espresso.”

His eye narrowed at me as I turned my head and let out a small snicker of amusement. Pushing his chair back, he got up and walked away to get our drinks.

I watched him from our table with a small, delighted smile. His tall, skinny frame was awkwardly inviting, his long, light brown hair and his loose skinny jeans were all so new to me. He wasn’t like any other guy I was usually drawn to. His crooked smile, shy exterior and ridiculous sense of humor caught me off guard; I never expected to like him so much, so quickly.

He came back with our drinks, setting my steaming hot drink in front me. I took it merrily, wrapping my fingers around the Styrofoam cup and bringing it to my lips. The familiar taste of bitterness lingered on my taste buds as the liquid burned my throat, but a satisfied grin crept onto my lips as every bone in my body slipped into ease.

The conversation from then on moved smoothly. It didn’t take much for Curtis to make me laugh. Anything he did already brought a smile to my face. He changed subject when they became stale, commenting on my answers to any questions he had for me and generally opening up to me himself when I asked a few questions. We shared our opinions, our hobbies, our secret talents and our childhood dreams before I managed to rip my gaze from him and look out the window. The night sky shone with stars and the soft moon overhead, making me wonder what time it was.

I glanced behind me at the large clock the coffee house had put it. It was read 8:30 and slowly, I counted each hour Curtis and I had spent just rambling on to each other; four. My eyebrows shot up as I let out an awkward laugh and turned to him, “We’ve been sitting here for nearly four hours.”

“Really?” He questioned his brow furrowing as he looked past me and stared at the clock. When he saw the time, he, too, let a look of shock take over his boyish features. He chuckled a bit then shrugged, “I didn’ even notice.”

“Same here,” I muttered, agreeing. I knew exactly where the conversation was headed; towards a soon goodbye. My hand softly took a hold of my empty cup and my bag. Curtis took a note of my actions, his own hand gripping his cup. We got up from our now warm seats and threw away our cups into the trashcan near the door as we exited. The bell rang, letting the whole store know we were leaving, but we didn’t turn back to see all the strangers’ faces look our way.

Our hands stayed to ourselves as we made our way to my car. The closer I got to the vehicle, the faster my heart pounded in my ribcage. I didn’t want to say goodbye. It would mean the end of the date – or whatever this really was.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, I was standing before the driver’s side of my car with Curtis standing awkwardly to my side. I turned to face him and he looked down at me with a gentle look in his eyes. It was one of those moments that should have been shared without words; just a soft hug and a little wave. But I never went by the rules. “I’m confused.”

“Confused? Abou’ wha’?” Curtis asked, his hands shoving into his pockets as he gave me an odd look. I bit my lip, feeling a bit skeptical about bringing this up, but I wasn’t one to back down when I wanted to know something just in fear of doubt or rejection. I faced people when I needed to and I needed to know what Curtis and I had just experienced; was it a date or just two friends hanging out over coffee?

“This; did we just go on a date? Or are we just a new pair of friends who got to know each other over coffee?” I asked shamelessly. Curtis cringed a little at the word ‘date,’ making my stomach churn with worry as he sighed and looked out over the parking lot. I stared up at him as he ignored my harsh stare.

“Leyla, I – I mean, I just – I don’t know,” He groaned. He removed his hands from his pockets as his hands slid over his face and through his hair then dropped back down to his sides. A frown was visibly etched onto my face as he tried to explain himself, “I’m not the type of guy who takes girls out on dates. I won’ show up teh yeh door, dressed teh impress with a bouquet of flowers. But I do like yeh. And I don’ jus’ want teh be yeh friend.”

A long pause passed between us as I tried to take in everything Curtis had just let out on me. Was I angry that he wasn’t the official type? Not at all; every guy I had gone out with made it so awkward, coming to my door with a nice button down shirt and reservations at some dim-lit restaurant. But I didn’t have half as much fun with them as I did with Curtis in a measly coffee house. It didn’t have to be official; as long as we liked each other, then I was happy.

“So you honestly do have feelings for me?” I asked as I snuck a little closer to him. He looked down at me for a minute, not answering my question as I snuck my hands into his. I pulled him towards me, his body towering over mine as our clothing brushed against each other.

“Yeah, I do,” He admitted to softly. The space between us slowly decreased as we leaned into my car, our bodies touching, our eyes never looking away before our lips met softly. I felt my eyes flutter to a close, my heart beating ten times faster than its normal rate as Curtis’s soft lips moved against mine skillfully.

It didn’t last long though. He pulled away, leaving our bodies close but standing upright instead of leaning down to meet my height. With our hands still tangled together, I smiled up at him. A little blush washed over his cheeks as he returned the small gesture.

I didn’t know what came over me, but I still didn’t want this to be goodbye, even if I knew I was going to see him again. I couldn’t help but lose every ounce of control I had as I mumbled, “Then come over.”