Lips Made of Yarn

Blown out and straightened, my hair bounced behind me as I sped-walked down the street towards Starbucks. Sure, I had gotten up early to style my hair and do my makeup properly, but it made me 10 minutes late. I slowed down once it came into view and smoothed down my hair. It felt light and silky in my fingers, relishing in all the products I had put in it this morning. The last time I had actually styled my hair was too long ago to remember. When the only thing you have going for you is full-time at Starbucks, you start to lose the will to look good.

I opened the door quietly, reaching up to grab the bell before it tinkled and announced my tardiness. Hurrying to the back storage area, I pushed open the door, poking my head through first.

Brendon stood in the middle of the room, clinging onto a clipboard for dear life, spinning around in circles. Boxes of supplies and coffee makers littered the walls around him, menacing in their indefinite numbers. Brendon looked more than overwhelmed.

"Hey," I said softly and he jumped, immediately scowling. Brendon took in my pretty-upped appearance and quirked an eyebrow.
Trying not to feel self-conscious, I dropped my shoulder bag on the floor and walked to him.

Foolishly, I had been waiting for Brendon to respond and I temporarily forgot his condition as I turned back around to look at him. He was shaking his head sadly, assessing the extra makeup on my face.
I bit back the instinct to growl through my teeth and sunk to the floor, starting to work.
It was really insane just how much I wanted to talk to this boy. He was just so mysterious.

Once opening time came, Brendon and I left the room, dressed in our uniforms, and positioned ourselves behind the registers. The day went so slowly and uneventful, that I barely even remember what happened five minutes ago.

Brendon left at lunch time, disappearing instantly. I sighed and opted for a blueberry muffin that had been calling my name all day. Before I knew it, the day was coming to an end and it was just about time to close.

Kranger gathered his belongings and pulled on his jacket as me and Brendon watched dejectedly. Brendon crossed his arms and frowned at me, as if this was all my fault.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. By the time we were done here, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was well past 12 o'clock and way too cold to walk home comfortably.

Kranger stopped to give me the keys to lock up later, his critical eyes scanning over my face.
"Did a makeup bag throw up on your face or something?"

I clasped a hand to my cheek in horror. Brendon snorted beside me and turned his back, his thin frame shaking. Kranger shrugged and shuffled out of the door, leaning on a walking stick for support.
If it's possible, I hate that guy even more.

I turned to Brendon, my face burning red under the thin layer of foundation I had put on for the first time this morning.
"Would you stop it?!" I snapped. Brendon bit his lip and shook his head, grinning at my expense.

I rolled my eyes and frowned, walking briskly to the door and yelling over my shoulder. "This is the last time I look nice for you people!"

I grabbed my clipboard and sat down on a folding chair, about to open the cupboard in front of me when Brendon waked in the room.
I looked up, shooting daggers at him, but the pissed off expression I was going for was somewhat undermined by my still red cheeks.

Brendon tapped my shoulder, but I shrugged the gesture off and turned my back on him. If he wants to act like a total prick, then he's having it done right back to him. No matter how much I may want to get to know him.

Brendon tapped me more insistently, a piece of paper being stuffed in my face. I yanked the piece of paper from him and shifted further away before I opened it.

Don’t be too upset, it's just a joke. It's the first time I've seen you looking like a girl, after all.

"Wha...What is that supposed to mean? Do I not look like a girl without all this crap on my hair and face?!" I scoffed. Brendon's eyes lit up with malice as he took back the paper.

Besides, I think it's nice that you did that all for me.
I gasped lightly as I read what he wrote. Brendon backed away sitting on the other folding chair in the room and propping his clipboard on his knee.

Desperately, I racked my brain for some kind of witty rebuttal, anything to make me seem like less of a loser. Nothing.
"I didn’t do it for you." Was what left my mouth, sounding even lamer as soon as it left my lips.

Brendon grinned, the ends of his lips curling in his enjoyment. Cocking an eyebrow and without even looking at the paper, he wrote something and held it up for me to see.
Then why are you blushing so badly?

"Fuck you," I growled, flipping a lock of hair over my shoulder as I turned to face the wall.

-x-

Brendon and I split up the duty evenly, me working on one side of the room while he worked on the other. I finished documenting all the items on my side and re-checked everything because Kranger is notorious for finding my mistakes.

I stretched and yawned, linking my fingers behind my back and stretching my arms. I let go with a sigh, walking toward Brendon cautiously.

Brendon looked up and down again too fast for me to smile at him. I sat down next to him, drumming my fingers against my thigh. I could just easily hand over the keys to Brendon and leave, making it home at a somewhat respectable time.

"So," I started, drawing out the word to fill up the silence.
Brendon kept working, counting the number of sugar packets. I waited for him to finish before continuing.

"Do you have any, er, hobbies?" It seems my conversational skills flew out the window the first time Brendon walked into Starbucks because I have never been so articulately challenged before.
Brendon sighed and pulled out his notebook from his pocket. I felt myself getting excited at the site of the notebook, because whenever it was pulled out it meant I had gotten him to answer me.

Everyone had hobbies.
The simple words frustrated me; must everything he wrote be this cryptic?

"So then what are your hobbies?" I pressed. Brendon stared at me for a good moment as if contemplating if he should answer me or not.
I rejoiced as his pen hit he paper and started writing.
Music.

"Really? That’s awesome, I love music too. You play any instruments?"
Brendon moved his hands to look as if one was positioned in the air and the other by his stomach. The hand by his stomach started strumming.

"Guitar?" he nodded, moving his hands so both where in front of him at waist height, his fingers flexing in rhythmic patterns.
"Piano?"
Brendon nodded again and kept up his charade by crossing his arms loosely at the wrist and flicking his wrists, occasionally tapping his foot.
"Um, Drums?" I guessed.

Brendon nodded for the third time. He moved his hands again but I held up one of my own to stop him.
"How many do you play?" I asked.
Brendon held up ten fingers and I raised my eyebrows.

"Ten?" I asked incredulously. Brendon shrugged and I nearly jumped out of my seat because there, on his lips, was a very small smile. So small it would be missed easily, but not small enough to make my heart skip.
"That’s...impressive." I concluded. Brendon rolled his eyes, holding out his right hand as if to say to say 'And you?'.

"Well, I played piano for like, a year when I was five. I've always wanted to pick it up again." I was surprised at the heavy implications in my own voice. So was Brendon, because he raised his eyebrows. Quickly covering it up, I said, "But my real passion is writing. My dream is to one day publish a book."

Brendon made on 'O' with his mouth and I lowered my eyes from his thick lips. It was then I noticed how close we had been sitting, me practically in his lap. Brendon was moving away steadily, and I blushed at my body’s ability to embarrass me in the simplest situations.

I slid away from him shyly and he let out a sigh of relief, that sigh running as a straight arrow through my heart.
His notepad fell in my lap and I picked it up crossly, already frowning.

Why don’t you just admit you want to get in my pants already? It’s pretty obvious from where I stand.

I nearly choked on air, ripping it out the page, crumpling it up, and throwing it at his head. It missed, of course. Brendon pursed his lips to hide his amused smile.

I shot to my feet and dug the keys out of my back pocket, dropping it in his lap.
"Have fun locking up." I spat.