the sun looks good on you - solangelo

12- opening shop

"you look well," hazel comments as i tie my apron around my waist.

i'm still processing last night and my mind is reeling. i find it hard to speak. how do i tell her i went on a date?

"you seemed in such a rush to clock out yesterday," hazel continues. i usually drag it my stay at the café as soon as possible. it's not like me to rush to leave.

"i was with will." i told her. her eyes went wide.

"you were with each other? like on..."

"like on a date. i guess. yeah." she didn't say it, but her eyes were pleading for details. she doesn't like to pry, but i know when she's curious. "we had pizza and we watched a fountain and we talked. that's it." i tell her. i save the sweeter details for myself. they're my moments, no one else's, right? is that selfish of me? i can still remember the softness of his lips pressed against my fingers. i twist my ring.

hazel places her hand on my back and smiles. "i'm happy for you," and that's all she needs to say.

there's a sense of antiquity to her soul. like antique jewelry in an ivory box. dusty record players and yellowed photographs. speaking to her is like walking into your grandparents' old home. there's emotional value and wisdom everywhere surrounding you, yet it's so quiet and tranquil and so old. familiar, yet from a time far away. i close my eyes for a few seconds and then i open them again.

"let's open up shop," i say.

as time goes on, it becomes spring. very much so. the few trees that we see planted around the streets of new york are in blossom. the petals are inescapable. they litter the ground and the air. they fly into your hair. the air is warming and everyone can feel it. the coffee shop seems livelier. more couples come in.

will visits me often, still. he texts me every morning and every night. his words on the screen are soft and gentle, and stupidly charming. that's the worst part. he's funny and charming and he knows it. sometimes i catch myself smiling at the screen. i never do that.

when he sees me at the café, he orders a coffee. he tells me how nice i look in the sun. i tell him that he looks better. his touch lingers on mine when he takes his coffee from my hands. he knows my boundaries and just where to push for my cheeks to burn. he likes that. when my cheeks burn. i wish i could do to him what he does to me, but i'm not charming or funny or flirty.

the best i can do is pretend i hate him and make him laugh.

but when he laughs, there's dimples on both of his cheeks. he looks like a child, but in a good way. there's a sense of innocence that falls over us like a veil when he laughs. he always finds ways to astound me. i've learned all the different smiles he has:

the small, quiet smile. both corners of his lips raise a little. it is as if he is smiling over a tiny and sweet secret.

the side smile. only one corner of his mouth moves. he knows he's being cute. it is as if he is smiling at a joke in his head. one dimple shows.

full teeth smile. both dimples are on full display and he is radiant. he is pleased. reminds me of strawberries and sunshine.

the laughing smile. dimples and red cheeks. an eruption of joy.

the scratch on my hand has scabbed over again and this time, i try to avoid scratching it. i just twist and twist my ring until my finger is red.

"how do you like it now?" will asked as i made him his coffee. "working in the land of the living. day shift."

i've stopped thinking about it so much. my thoughts are filled with him. "it's not so bad. i was right. people are much less honest during the day, it seems. that's what i miss about the night. but... it's nice here too. there's more people about to look at. and there's you. our schedules actually line up now." i find myself saying.

"do you feel alive?"

"no," i say and i don't have to think about it."i've become more alive, but i'm still very much a night person. i don't think anything could change that."

i look at will and his face is hard to read. he doesn't seem displeased or pleased. just thoughtful. i give him his coffee.

"let's hang out again," i say.

"where?" he asks, excited that it was me who took initiative.

"my apartment," i say. oh god what am i doing? inviting someone into my home? it feels so private. i don't like letting people into my home. it's my space.

"okay," will says. his lips are pull into a smile. there's dimples on his cheeks again and the sunlight dances on his face.

"the sun looks good on you." i tell him.

"the sun looks good on you," he says back, but i've yet to believe it.