foreigner [H.S]

One | Newcomers

Evelyn

WHEN I SAW HIM sitting over there, my heart skipped a beat.

But how we met unfortunately wasn't one like those chick flick scenes. We all know how it goes, where the male protagonist knocks into the girl, spilling his drink on me, insisting that it was his fault; even though half the time it's mostly the female's fault. He would then proceed to purchase to me a new drink, since her's spilt all over the tiled floor, and he'd help the flustered girl clean up her accident.

But fiction is always better than reality, isn't it?

He was by himself near a large glass window, behind the counter. Rain beat down heavily on the pain, monotonously beating, calming the entire atmosphere of the small cafe. The boy's head was buried in his laptop, where his long hair lay messily on his forehead. It had only partially hid his face, a light tint reflected off of his prominent structure. The green apron tied messily around his waist made his green eyes pop, which were behind the large black frames of his glasses.

I was never one to drool over boys and change myself to get into their pants. Even during my dreaded high school days, all of the "good looking" were just, well, eh to me. Tumblr is the one to blame for the distinct raise in my expectations for men. All of those fictional characters and celebrities wrapped around my head to the point where I'd write fictional stories about them. I guess I was just too busy in fantasizing over the celebrities on my lock screen to look up and even try with reality.

But this man was better than fiction.

The steaming cup of coffee raised to his pink lips, his tongue soon ran across them. It was all too mesmerizing, how plump his bright his lips were; it was surprising to me how I could not pick out a single flaw on his face, being that I hold such high standard in men. His curls fell nearly perfectly, brushing the top of his shoulders. A coat drapes over his chair, where the smell of his cologne lingers over a foot or two towards me. 

This was most certainly not love at first sight. It's impossible for me to spot a stranger and insist he's the one.

I guess I was too hung up over his appearance because my friend irritatingly tapped me, trying to snap my attention back to her.

"Did you not hear a single thing I said?" She asked me with raised eyebrows

"No," I told her, exhaling an an exasperated sigh. Air blew out of my mouth, pushing stray strands of my untamed hair out of my eyes. My vision was no longer focused on this boy, but on my best friend. She tugged her blonde hair behind her pierced ears, slightly annoyed at how she needed to repeat herself.

"I was saying how Michael is still trying to get with me. Even though we're literally an ocean apart, he's still trying to slide in my DM's. The arrogance of boys I'll tell you–"

"Izzie please stop talking about him for one minute," I beg to her, my voice straining in the fact that I'm sick of hearing about her ex boyfriend." That's all I'm asking, one minute."

She shut her mouth immediately, looking down at the floor while taking a sip from her cup. I inhaled a shaky breath, feeling a pang of guilt for my unusual snapping towards her.

"You do realize I'm your only friend here," she reminded me. Even though she meant it in a salty tone, she was absolutely right.

But that's what happens when you decide to study abroad in an unfamiliar country. I was not regretting my choice at all, but it was hard coming to a new country with your life in a suitcase and glue knowledge is limited about the real world. I honestly needed Izzie more than anything, and she needed me too. Once the realization of that had sunken in, the air of tension between us had calmed down.