California Café

I was sitting in a cold facility beside a couple friends in an arena filled with avid fans while I struggled over the conflict of a beautiful young and mature blonde with a rare set of awe-inspiring eyes whom I went to dinner a couple nights prior. I desperately wanted to text her, but I thought it would be pathetic and embarrassing of me. I also thought I couldn’t risk the chance of my number being shared with the public over some girl I wanted in bed. But damn, I wanted her in my bed so badly. I hardened at the smallest thought of her; I grew antsy every time I said her name, either in my head or to Matt.

It had been the sixth time that day that her name was shadowed by my stilled thumb in a new message box. For two days I had been thinking of messages to send her, but none of them deemed worthy enough; she was too smart to see through my ulterior motives. My ulterior motives were a little hazy to myself. Sure, I wanted to take her badly, but I had never yearned, or craved, or desired someone like her before. But I was sure she had the same hunger as well.

I, disregarding the consequences and well versed conscience on my shoulder, typed a quick message and sent it off before I could process what I had actually done.

To Ressie Brooks: Hi it’s Harry. Just checking in and making sure you got back to San Diego safely.

I took a deep breath of relief before I was able to aim my attention back on the husky men fighting on the ice. Somehow I wasn’t too worried about her reply; I was just so anxious to text her so I could be on her mind when she reads it. I joined the conversation between the two mates I accompanied to my right. We started were discussing the start of the American football playoffs that had started recently. The Green Bay Packers were going strong with a bright outlook in the championship, so I was content.

I had to fight the urge to check my phone as I thought I could jinx my chances for a response from her. Ridiculous.

I focused myself on the game in front of me and watched the swift movements of each players as they glided on the ice and brawled over a small rubber disk. The aggressive movements surfaced with persistence and sheer zeal always amazed me. They knew their game so well. Each player was assigned a job on the team. For some it was protecting the precious black spot on the ice, for some it was merely taking players out, and for some it was to cross that valuable object across the lines and into the lacings of white and winnings. All added together, the six athletes did their job and served the puck that flew at the base of their skates. Their game was based on the dear circular plate and that same object determined their victory, their happiness, their job, and on the slippery slope, their life.

My expensive view of the game and intense thoughts were interrupted by a couple girls who walked up to introduce themselves. One had to be around sixteen and the other eighteen. I catered to their requests of photos and signatures with the usual sincerity and charisma that the fans loved me for. I asked why they would stop and meet me when there was a perfectly good game in front of them and they reminded me how close the game was to its end. They thanked me before they left and I was actually a bit thankful they were the only two who had come up to me the entire night.

There were six minutes in the game left and the Kings were losing to the Devils. I turned to Jeff and Anthony, who were sitting on my right and brought up leaving and grabbing some food. They both eagerly replied at the disappointment of the game’s turnout.

Twenty minutes later, we were seated at a table in downtown Los Angeles. With fame to my advantage, we were seated quickly and had already ordered our food.

“You’ll be twenty one in just a couple weeks and you’ll be able to drink in public with the big boys here,” Anthony teased as he let his beer pass his lips. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had drinks illegally in the country before though.

“You making it to my party?” I asked the both of them.

“Of course. I would be crazy not to,” Anthony responded.

“I pretty much planned your entire party,” Ben rose his brow.

“Good to hear,” I clasped my hands on the table. “Are you guys coming over this Sunday for the games?”

They both nodded before our food came out.

“That was fast,” Ben remarked. “I am a little afraid to eat this.” We laughed in agreement, but dug into our burgers wholeheartedly.

On my third bite, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I told myself not to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t help it. I wiped my hands off on the napkin in my lap and slipped the phone out of my pocket.

I read the screen and gave no attempts to tame down my smile before opening it.

From Ressie Brooks: A little late to check in, but thank you for the thought. Yes I got to work safely the next morning. Even listened to a bit of One Direction on my ride back down. ;)

And another one.

From Ressie Brooks: Do you think you’re sly getting my number and all?

To Ressie Brooks: I am sly aren’t I? Glad to hear you are back at your normal life, but I can’t lie and tell you I don’t wish you were eating dinner with me again tonight…

I put my phone on the table, exploding off a high. She didn’t sound mad at all and she had a texted with that hint of desire I saw which she tried to keep locked up a couple nights ago.

“Who are you texted that’s got you all giddy?” Ben asked amused as he took a chip.

“No one. Just a friend. Well not really a friend.”

“More than a friend?” Anthony asked.

“No. An acquaintance.” They looked at me expectantly, knowing I had to have a good explanation to give my number to an ‘acquaintance.’ I explained my situation as they ate.

“So you want her?” One asked as I finished.

“If you saw her, you would understand,” I simply replied.

I felt the table vibrate.

From Ressie Brooks: Thank you for dinner the other night. It was so good. I do have to apologize for being a bit of a bitch at the end though and making assumptions. But sorry to say, I already ate.

To Ressie Brooks: I’ll be completely honest. You’re assumptions were part of my plan. How could I not desire a woman like you?

I cursed myself at the last message as I wondered if I was rushing and coming on too strong.

To Ressie Brooks: You were listening to One Direction? Which album. I hadn’t pegged you as a fan. All grown up and working, but of course we have all types of listeners. Happy to keep you occupied and glad to hear we didn’t bore you to seep on the long drive home.

I watched as the bubbles popped up and down three times from the receiving end before they stayed down for a while. I decided to put my phone away and continue this conversation later after I was away from company.

Hell I was just excited for her connection. On my drive back home, I grew antsy, a habit I grew into once the pretty blonde showed her face in that California Café. I read her next message as I sat in the car in my garage.

From Ressie Brooks: Your latest album. It might have turned me into a fan a bit. Oh and I assure you, I am by no means grown up. Yes, working but not grown up. Ha.

She typed again.

From Ressie Brooks: My thoughts about you were enough to keep me occupied on the drive home.

She was in. I was just hoping she wasn't playing a game simiIar to the one I had just watched with all the mixed symbols she was giving me because in the end I feared I would be just like the Kings.

Notes

xo.