vanilla kisses | lee felix

four

Felix takes a deep breath, standing right outside the cafe doors. 

It's not hard, he tells himself. Just reach out and grab the handle. Not hard at all.

Who's he kidding? It might be the hardest thing he's done in a long time. With the weight of the box in his pocket, Felix can't forget about what he plans to do.

She could reject me. She could tell me I'm not good enough. Felix's eyes widen as he considers the impossible. What if my breath always smells like coffee, so she turns me down? Do I smell today?

Felix wants to sniff himself but refrains, somehow finding the confidence to open the door. There she is, sitting at their usual table.

Felix bites the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling. They have a table now. Ever since that day, she's come to sit with him and they've talked about everything from which stars are prettier to if dogs go to heaven. 

That argument wasn't pretty. Felix ended up baking brownies in order to get her to forgive him. But it's not his fault that he thinks dogs are reborn instead of going to heaven. 

As he approaches, she looks up, her eyes sparkling as she smiles at him. He smiles back, the action almost a reflex as he sits. How is it possible that someone can have all the stars in their eyes? It doesn't seem fair.

He doesn't know her name yet. It hasn't come up in conversation, and he doesn't have the confidence to ask. But he'll learn it someday. And maybe even change it.