Her Inked Scars

pastels suit you

POV: Celeste

I finally got to talk to her.

After months of only being able to smile at her, I finally got her name and had a chance to talk to her but no matter what I said or the conversation I tried to strike, she stayed silent.

I suppose I must have freaked her out a bit over the past few months by not even trying to speak and only smiling at her whenever I saw her. She would always smile back but would immediately leave. At first I thought it was just because of my smoking, which I've been trying to quit because of her, but I smiled at her again when I wasn't smoking and she had the same reaction.

By her reaction this evening, I could tell she was out of it. She was hugging her coat and bag against her chest as her boss pushed her towards me, ensuring that she couldn't escape or turn away. I felt honestly bad for her. She could barely even look at me. Eventually I was just making her more uncomfortable with my presence and had to leave. Even standing here amongst another group and trying to listen to the conversation they're having, I can only remember her.

Each curve of her beautiful body, her legs concealed under her long white skirt, and her torso covered by a baggy shirt. I do wish she would wear something that shows off her stunning body more, despite how pretty she looks in whatever she wears. Every time I've seen her she wears clothes that cover almost all of her skin. Her smooth, warm and soft skin.

I have to almost physically slap myself out of my growing lust as someone asks me a question that I can barely form an answer to, my mind sticking to the train of her running constantly through my mind. I excuse myself to refill my drink, using my empty cup as my reason for leaving, not that I genuinely can't get my mind off Nyoka. I glance at my phone, finding it already being almost an hour after I'd spoken to her.

I sigh as I slip through the crowd, apologising to each person I knock past a little too hard. As my phone vibrates in my pocket, I pull it out, unlock it and finally get my mind off her, even if temporarily, stress washing over me at the email concerning my business. With all my attention on my phone and me continuing to push through the crowd towards the drink table set up on the opposite side of the room, I don't even notice the person in front of me as I smash into them, the juice in their cup splashing over my shirt.

As I look up, ready to scream at whoever interrupted me from my work, I find Nyoka apologising profusely, her body almost entirely frozen. In her eyes I swear I can see them begin to shine with tears making guilt flood over me, uncertain of how to stop her from crying before it starts.

"I-I'm so sorry," she stutters, her voice hoarse.

"It's okay, really," I assure her, but it just seems to push her closer to tears.

"But you're clothes. They're going to be soaked... and sticky... and it'll probably stain." After a moment I realise that she's mostly worried about damaging my property. I can help but chuckle as she grabs a tissue from her bag and begins dabbing at my shirt, suddenly not caring about our proximity and pushing her earlier fears away.

"Don't worry, Nyoka," I assure her, making her look up at me and I suddenly notice the height difference between us. "I have a spare shirt in the back I can wear, it really isn't that big of a deal."

I take her hands in mine, surprised at how cold they are as they shake from nerves. They quickly withdraw from mine, clasping each other in front of her, her eyes dropping back to the ground. I watch them dart around under her lashes, finding it surprisingly cute.