Out of Place and Under Dressed

"So how have you been then? It's been rather a long time since we last spoke."

I blocked out most of their noise, trying desperately to concentrate on the task at hand and not on the delicious, husky voice penetrating the atmosphere from across the table, yet got absolutely nowhere. Every chance I got I snuck a glance at him, hiding the shameful stare adorning my face with the cover of my still blank pad. There was just something about him, a spark of intensity that just oozed from his person, like an infectious scent from predator to prey. My hand drifted across the page on its own accord, babbling scrawls being produced for once, whilst my mind wondered to him and every tiny detail he may adorn. Willow was watching me like a hawk, calculating my every shifty move as I shuffled in my now very uncomfortable seat, whilst Anya may as well have been on a completely different planet. Everything was "Heath this, Heath that". It seemed like she didn't come up for air in between speeches, gassing on about how amazing he is, how much things have changed, how great she finds him, how different he looks and sounds, and- Jesus that voice. It was sort of-
"Wake up doll."
"Wha?"
"You're drifting again. Try and keep with the program, I know it's not very interesting but hey. You're being spoken to." I looked up form my dazed stare at Willow to see two sets of green and brown eyes boring into my own chocolate ones, awaiting a response to a conversation I never heard. Surely they didn't expect me to be paying attention to someone who I found insanely attractive, when I was supposed to be working? Surely they knew me better. Surely they could have predicted that my mind would be elsewhere as a gorgeous figure of the male species graced us with his presence on a dreary Saturday afternoon, like, I duno... Mars?
"So, what do you think then Ez?"
"Pardon?" she laughed almost mockingly to Heath, waving her hand around carelessly in the air at my disinterest.
"I knew she wasn’t listening, she never does. It's like she's got a dream world going on or something. She barely ever actually participates in human interaction."
"No actually I heard every word." I said heartily, raising my head as if trying to prove that I was indeed, no moron, far from the truth as it may be.
"Okay, what do you think then? I'd love to hear your opinion."

I fiddled frantically with my fingernails, praying that some witty comment or smart remark would just flash up in my head like a giant nuclear explosion so as not to look like an idiot in front of such a gorgeous guy, but alas... god hates me. Willow glanced fleetingly between Anya and myself, mirroring my panic precisely whereas Anya sat there with a defiant grin plastered to her perfectly chizzled features. She was by no means an arrogant person, but by god did I want to wipe that smirk off her beautiful face right now. I busied myself with rushed "um"'s and "err"'s, flicking my lengthy hair all the while as a kind of distraction from the fact that I didn't have the foggiest on their conversation, but I couldn’t help but notice the small grin pulling at the side of his lips, almost teasingly so.
"You were saying?" she muttered.
"What?"
"Or more like, not saying. Come on Esmae I don’t have all day. Were you listening or not?" After a few more frantic thoughts, I gave up, admitting defeat on the grounds of my conceit and was met with a disgustingly bold laugh on Anya's part. "See I told you she lives in the clouds somewhere."
"And I didn't argue that fact, did I?" For the first time since he sat down, I finally cooled down, my rush of embarrassment and adrenalin fading somewhat as he continued to skilfully bring Anya back down to our level, and out of the golden gates to "WOW".
"But it's creepy. It's like she's never really with us, her imagination just goes wild. I mean yeah it's okay, but it's just plain... odd."
"Well if it is okay, what on earth are you moaning about?" She looked taken aback, her normally glowing, tanned face now startled and alert. Nobody ever picked up on anything she said, in fear of being brutally beaten for thinking differently, but this guy just didn't seem to care, or rather he didn't want to seem like he cared.
"All I am saying is, she should pay attention more often. Nobody is gonna take anynotice a weirdo like her just sat there dreaming. I've tried telling her before and giving her hints and stuff, but I may as well not bother. She doesn’t care if she is alone of not."
"Really?"
"Yeah really." I couldn't believe half the shit that was pouring out of her open gob at that moment, being one of my best friends and all, and I wasn't willing to stand for it. She huffed out a few short breaths of pride, crossing her arms over her chest and losing all respect I had for her in the fleeting milliseconds.
"Hmm," He pondered, from what I could see beneath my mane of thick, crinkled hair, leaning back into the comfy surroundings of his cushioned chair. "I don’t see any of that at all."
"Wh-what?" Anya spoke softly this time, allowing her rigid posture to falter.
"Well, take in her appearance first off. Clean, slightly faded jeans and casual black tee shirt, heavy furred coat slung over her chair and a pair of chunky wedge heels. That to me doesn’t exactly scream 'I don’t care', don’t you agree?"

Between the three of us I think there was a certain amount of unspoken shock, both at his sudden outburst of opinion, detailed and specific observance and overall that fucking awesome mixed accent ribbon-ing out between divine, pale lips. He was a fine one to talk about gracious appearances or whatever, with his simple, everyday clothing looking more like idyllic attire for supremacy. A simple button down white dress shirt and pair of washed out blue jeans have never looked more appealing to me, compared to the getup's some men prance around in on a daily basis. It was then that I realised I hadn't even looked at him properly yet, merely peeking through my curtain of hair and glasses every once in a while than actually looking him over. He had rolled his sleeves up roughly round his elbows, revealing even more tanned skin and thick, leather wristbands, a thin material choker rung round his neck a few times, the thinning string and beads looking worn yet unique, and his longish bleached hair laying messily on his head in that kind of untamed yet perfect sort of way. It would have been outright ridiculous of me to deny the fact that I wasn’t mildly attracted to him, but more completely and utterly infatuated with every single aspect of his person.
"She's doing it again." I snapped out of my trance, realizing that I had in fact been staring right into his enchanting auburn eyes whilst practically undressing him with my mind.
"I don’t mind. It's entertaining to watch."
"Huh?" he let out an infectious laugh, his entire face seeming to light up in an instant, before explaining.
"It's almost as if you can see the cogs in your mind turning with every move you make. Your eyes, you see, they tell everything about you. They glisten with essence. They are your worst ally, yet by far your best asset." He spoke with such adoration, such passion, about even the tiniest of things. He had sat forward now almost entirely blocking Anya out as she put on yet another huff for attention, and instead focussed his every attempt on passing through his opinion to me. Arms on knees, hands gesturing wildly and eyes sparkling with life, he spoke, pulling me into his world of... I don’t even know.
"Nobody normally describes her like that. You'll probably give her a hernia."
"Even so, no harm in stating the truth on a matter. It's Esmae right?"
"R-right" I managed to stutter out, tucking some chunks of hair behind my ear with shaken hands. It was almost as if his attitude towards me was burning, melting through my thick barriers of secrecy and reality behind which the real me led waiting. I could feel his auburn eyes carving into my mind with each passing second, almost trying to weed out the golden traits I may have hidden away from view.
"I'm going to the loo quick. Don't miss me too much."
"We won't Anya, just go" Willow spoke, sending her a knowing glance before turning back to her book that she had been delving into for the past week or so. "I apologise for her Heath, she doesn’t really know when to quit it."
"Don't I know it." More of that childlike laughter crept out, gliding through the open air to my over-sensitive ears. I craved his every breath, his every movement, like an addiction. "She' been like that for as long as I've known her."
"When did you guys meet then?"
"Few years back in San Fran. I was doing a drama course over there and she helped out in the production. It was an odd meeting but fun nevertheless."

I mentally congratulated myself with actually managing to form coherent words, strung together almost casually. He smiled across at me, eyes wrinkling with his grin, and shuffled closer to the edge of his seat. I was becoming slowly more comfortable in his presence, no longer feeling that biting urge to hide away in the folds of my seat, and rather sat forward to, our knees brushing in the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop. Willow huddled up in her seat, retreating into her world of fiction as Josephine and Thomas followed their murderous trail within the deep set pages of her novel.

"So tell me about yourself. All I know so far is that you... err what was it? Live in a dream world or something?"
"Ahh yeah," I mumbled back, running a hand unsuccessfully through my thick hair. "Anya kinda has a thing against my workings."
"Tell me about them. She hates most things about me too if you hadn't guessed."
"More like adores you for being son of God." He laughed boldly at this, sitting upright in his chair as I helplessly giggled along. There was just something about this that I could resist, some glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
"No but really, tell me about you. What sort of things are you into? Personality, quirks, likes, dislikes. Anything you want to."
"Don't get her started. She may be the shy type but once you get her going she can reel off shit like there's no tomorrow" Willow injected from beside me, not even bothering to raise her stare from the tattered pages before her. Heath laughed along, seeming genuinely interested and urged me to go on. I never really felt comfortable putting myself out on a line and revealing things about myself, but as I said, it's just who he is.
"Well I err, guess I'm kinda my own person. I like um..." I tried desperately to think of things about myself that another human being would find remotely interesting, but as the workings of my mind heated up to unbelievable heights, I gave up.
"And um...?"
"I'm really not that interesting. There's nothing people are really interested in. I'm just me."
"She's depressed."

Ahh the delightful return of my former best friend. Heath frowned somewhat at her incredulous remark, before looking back my way and seeing the slow shaking of my head. Anya looked remarkably impressed with herself for either bringing the attention back to her or for making me seem like a fool, neither of which I was sure of.

"Depressed?"
"Uhuh, her hideously long relationship just ended and she is taking it out on everyone around her. She barely talks to anyone now. If you'd met her say, a month ago, she'd seem like a whole different person." Way to make me feel better. It was as if in one simple sentence, she had managed to bring down any self confidence or pride I had managed to scrape from the barrel I once called life, tossing it away over her shoulder like an old toy. I knew she meant no harm she just enjoyed stating the fucking obvious, but really, her timing could have been better.
"Well I am sorry for that, but I guess you don’t want my sympathy."
"Haa thanks."
"Welcome." He sent me a genuine smile, not one of those fake grins people throw out left right and centre, and took a long sip from his new coffee. "Do you want a refill?"
"Oh no I'm fine thanks. I've got to be going soon anyway."
"Oh, reasoning?"
"Weekly gossip with the mother." He nodded knowingly, laughing gently into his cup, and I decided to go back to my work. If I only had a while left I may as well get some half descent work done, as was my main goal when I arrived 4 hours ago.

I opened my pad to the last page, my recent scribbles dotted all around and still I had no inspiration. Heath started casual talk with Anya once more as she leant over to his chair, their bodies far too close for my jealousy and suddenly the thought hit me. Him, he could be my inspiration. As if a giant wave had just swept across our table, Willow looked up to me, a sly smirk stuck to her lips as she saw my hand fly across the page, the words clearly visible from her comfy position by m side.

Main male lead: tall, longish tufty hair, thick accent but not too strong. Australian with an English twist. Tall, strong looking, bold, outspoken...

I cut off my rant feeling a pair of eyes my way, and sure enough Willow keen stare was now focussed on the words I wrote, my pen still flat against the page as thoughts and notions bubbled away inside my head.
"Interesting choice of words Ez."
"Taa Widge." I smirked at her, a small section of my former, happier self shining through but it was soon to be demolished as operation Anya came boldly into play.
"What you writing about? Got a flow for the story?" well done, any hope I had of making myself sound normal to Heath was long gone as Anya described to him how I was writing a hopeless love story but with crappy ideas. She made it seem like my weekend hobby, rather than a random task set by my alliteration obsessed English teacher, and I just prayed that the seat would swallow me whole.
"So you're a writer then eh?"
"N-not quite. School project."
"Oh okay then. Got a theme?"
"L-love story. It's only meant to be short but apparently she wants it to capture the essence of a lifetime of love or something. My English teacher is mad."
"I know the sort. You haven’t met my mother yet." He grinned again, laughing inwardly at his own subtle joke, but it was something else that strung my attention rather rapidly.

Yet?