The Girl in the Jean Jacket & The Guy in the Plaid Shirt

I

I
     "Whoa, check it out. 3-D boobs."

     Both my idiotic friends marvel at the big anatomy book in their hands, moving it back and forth so the image changes from a front view to a side view of a woman's breast. Okay, I'll admit. I was the one to point out the abundance of female body parts that are described and can be seen in this section of the bookstore. I couldn't help it. I'm bored out of my mind and don't have any reason to be here. One of the snickering idiots standing a few inches away from me needs some book for an English course he's taking this semester. I don't know the exact piece of literature he needs because I was just dragged along as an entourage. It also doesn't seem like he's going to look for it anytime soon since I just distracted him by flat out mentioning the word boobs.

     I shake my head at them as they continue to stare at the image completely entranced. Don't get me wrong. A woman's body is a very beautiful, practically sacred thing, but if I wanted to see more than just the exterior and dig deeper into the vital parts of the human body than my major would be something other than business. I'm also all about minding my own business, so I find myself slowly slipping away from the immature fools, that I happen to consider very good friends, no longer wanting to associate myself with a situation that may or may not be considered perverted.

     I languidly stroll my way past the tall mahogany bookshelves. My tan work boots scrape against the grey carpeted floor since I'm too lazy to walk properly. My eyes wander around. I'm not thinking about anything, nor am I looking for anything until I spot a small red heart. My steps falter as my eyes zoom out from the small image and take in the full picture.

     The heart is a small, almost microscopic, patch of red fabric imprinted on the shoulder of a medium washed jean jacket. It disappears the second the girl turns her back to me. My eyes drop down and trace the contours of her grey yoga pants until the stretchy material flairs out at the bottom, just above the All-Star logo on the back of her black high tops. She walks a few steps before stopping in front of another display table. She leans forward, completely engrossed with the various books laid out in front of her. The distance between us brought my attention back to her form entirely. The small red heart is back in view, and I can't help but think that it resembles her in some way.

     Petite.

     And the overly big jean jacket she's wearing only highlights that claim. It both hugs her frame, yet swallows her in.

     I tear my eyes away from her because now I feel like the creep I made my friends out to be. My gaze falls on the books on the table in front of me. The colorful covers catch my attention. There's a lot of red and blues, but I still don't even try to pretend to read the titles knowing all too well that my attention is on the figure in my peripheral vision.

     I flicker my gaze back over in the girl's general direction only to see that she's unintentionally facing me, staring down at the soft cover book in her hands. She flips the book over and ducks her head down to read the words on the back. A few shorter strands of light brown hair fall over her shoulder and into her face. They stay there for a few seconds before she reaches up and tucks them behind her ear.

     Before I can even blink, the girl looks up. The saliva gets caught in the back of my throat and my mouth goes dry as she pierces me with eyes that I can't decide are more blue or green. I'm frozen in what I presume to be a dumb founded position, but the girl doesn't seem to mind. At least she doesn't seem to mind in the split second we make eye contact before she blinks and dips her head back down.

     My shoulders relax, but the thing that gets me is the rapid beat echoing inside my chest. The heavy thumping feels foreign to the hollowness that has made a home there.