Mile High City

She unconsciously tapped her pencil against her cup; she was always fidgeting. She would set the pencil down, type a few words, and resume her tapping. Just as she was in the middle of what seemed like a breakthrough, she caught a glimpse of something in her peripheral vision.

“May I have this?” the male voice asked.

She looked up, her gaze captured by a set of serious blue eyes. She quickly looked away, as if her eye contact would indicate more than she liked. She caught sight of his hand on the empty chair in front of her; a gesture that signaled he wanted the extra seat for his table.

She struggled to find her words. “Well, it’s not mine, but I’ll look the other way as you take it!” she quipped with a playful grin.

She hoped for the look of registration; a look that would at least give her a sympathy grin and laugh. The boy’s eyebrows furrowed into a look of confusion. Her face couldn’t find her palms sooner. Like a child playing hide-and-seek, she peered through her fingers to see if the stranger had up and walked away with the chair.

To her surprise, he remained in front of her—a small smile forming on his lips. Her eyes met his for the second time, and his grin grew bigger, revealing a pair of dimples she didn’t want to see disappear. She even considered pulling out every joke she knew if it meant keeping those dimples alongside his smile.

Removing her hands completely from her face, she straightened her shoulders—finally gaining her composure. “You can take it!” she said in, what she hoped, was a collected manner.

He pulled the chair from the table and looked at the girl again. She grinned and nodded her head encouragingly. Her gaze went immediately back to her computer. Her intent was to continue her writing, but that was interrupted by a large figure taking the spot directly next to her. Her eyes shot up to her left. She was greeted by the same blue eyes she wanted to hide from.

“I don’t want to take seat anymore.” He said in, what she suspected was, an Eastern European accent.

She looked to the end of the café, where she assumed the rest of his party would be seated. They all seemed engaged with each other—oblivious to their friend’s absence now.

“What are you writing?” he asked curiously, his face inching closer to hers. She prayed he couldn’t feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She could feel his gaze on her, studying her features. She inhaled quietly and turned to answer him.

“Just preparing a presentation!” she squeaked. “My friend is doing some research, and she wants a grant, so I’m helping her prepare what she should say.” He nodded thoughtfully. Her answer was rather vague. The more she looked at him, the less she felt in control—she assumed he would lose interest.

“What is she researching?” he asked, his hand cupping his chin and pulling him further into the conversation. He tapped his thumb along his lower lip, waiting for her response.

“Brain cell repair!” she chirped, her confidence building as she found herself enjoying the subject matter. She pointed to his head and tapped it lightly with her index finger.

The dimples returned, a sparkle appearing in his blue eyes; happy. “I hope that doesn’t mean you think I need brain repaired?” he asked jokingly.

“Well…” she began with a shy smile, looking downwards “you did try to steal a chair.” She looked up so he could see she was teasing.

A seemingly impossible feat, his smile grew and he threw his hands in the air as if to feign innocence.

“I never tried to steal the chair!”

She wanted to continue talking to the smiling boy, but was brought back to reality when a voice from the end of the café called out to him.

“Varly!” the voice interrupted.

Her eye contact with him was broken as the quirky boy looked to his friend. He nodded his head to acknowledge he would be coming back.

She twiddled her thumbs to look occupied, but a familiar face entered her vision again.

“Wait.” he said softly. “Can I know your name?”

“Emily.” She said in an even softer voice than his. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. If he continued to look at her, she was convinced she would melt into a puddle right before his eyes.

“May I see you again?” he pleaded, his eyes growing wide. She nodded her head, almost too enthusiastically. He pushed a loose piece of paper in front of her and held out the pencil she had been tapping earlier. She wrote her phone number as neatly as her shaking hands could.

He smiled, satisfied. His eyes never left her face as he stood from his chair and brought it to its original place. He gave her a small wave and walked away. He only made it a few steps before he turned around to nod at her again.

"Bye Emily.” He mouthed.

“Bye –“….

She didn’t know his name.

Varly?