Sing For Me

Chapter Three: Unexpected Encounters

~~~A/N~~~ 

Rob from Rob's Coffee Express is impressed by your reading tenacity! Grab yourself a complimentary hot beverage and a cookie from the strategically placed counter-top cookie jar.

Yum! 

~~~<3~~~

"S-sorry. You don't mind, do you?" His eyes were wide like he hadn't even seen me himself before he sat down, but it was hardly a question.

"No. Not at all," I reply, through gritted teeth.

"Nowhere else is free."

"Seriously, it's fine." And seriously, keep your pants on. It's just a table.

Glancing up from my phone I take note of the person who so rudely interrupted my lunch break; the only time I have during my workday where I don't have to accommodate every whim of any customer who walks through the double doors of Rob's Coffee Express.

The intruder looks to be somewhere in his early twenties. His light brown hair verges on being carelessly long, softening the steep ridge of his jawline. Soft, tawny-brown eyes rimmed with graceful lashes melt into a lightly tanned complexion... and it occurs to me then that this stranger could quite possibly have been considered handsome... if it wasn't for his nose. 

There was, in fact, nothing about his nose that seemed to fit his otherwise delicately masculine face. In size and shape, it rivaled Gandalf's from Lord of the Rings. It was simply awkward, the way it sat there. How a person like that could stumble across such a rude looking nose seemed quite unfortunate, really.

The guy shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat.

"So," he stated, eyebrows raised and lips pursed in knowing amusement. What are you listening to?"

While under usual circumstances I'd be more inclined to tell this stranger that it's none of his damn business what I'm listening to, the first thought that zooms through my head is: Crap! Do I really have to own up to listening to Babel? Because surely if I admit to listening to them, this table-thief will judge me hard...

"Babel. You know—the boyband." The words were out of my mouth before I truly realized what I was saying. 

Ugh, I sound like as much of a  fangirl as Abbey. 

And if the glitter in those brown eyes was anything to go by, then this admittance must be seriously damaging my reputation with the big-nosed but otherwise very easy on the eye table thief. Not that I care. Because, I mean, Hello? I'm too awesome to care what some stranger with a huge schnoz thinks of me.

"But I'm not listening to them because I want to. Actually... it's like, homework. A friend of mine is dragging me to their concert tonight."

I figuratively kick myself under the table. I should have just lied and said Elvis, or The Beatles or Imagine Dragons. Though why I actually seem to care what this person thinks I can't begin to explain. My palms begin to get a little sweaty.

It must be the eyes, I tell myself. I'm a sucker for chocolate brown eyes.

A hint of a smile flicks playfully up to the corners of his lips. The moving muscles around his mouth expose the beginnings of a deep dimple in his previously complacent left cheek.

"Babel, huh. I didn't pick you for a Babbler."

I sigh. "I already said I'm not. I'm more of a... well. Okay. Touche. I don't really know, to be honest."