Ebb and Flow – Romantic Fiction – Pt 2

The wind current is shifting as the sun rises towards noon, though I'm not sure if that's precisely what drove the chill from my bones. Pulled along by the strange, captivating woman who I had just run into, I'm struck again by the scent of cleaning fluid. She has put her novel away somewhere, and I have a side view of her blonde hair, tied into a quick ponytail. Where it meets her cheek, hair blurs into pale skin.

Please read the preceding parts of the story, so you know what's going on!

Part 1 – https://read.cash/@lucas/ebb-and-flow-romantic-fiction-pt-1-c270edaf

The woman sees me studying her and cracks a small smile. "So what do you do for a living, Shaggy?"

"Shaggy?"

"Your hair, it's messy. Like Shaggy, from Scooby-Doo."

My step falters for a moment, and I'm thankful for her arm locked with mine. My hand instinctively moves up to smooth my hair, and she holds it firm, her smile widening into a grin.

"No, I didn't mean for you to fix it. It's cute!"

Blushing, I glance at her again, and she's looking at me. We're still walking, but the crowd of people becomes a slow motion blur as our eyes lock and the moment stretches out in time. "Nobody's ever called me cute before."

Eyes tightening slightly, she chuckles and turns her face forward again. "You're wearing a nice suit. You must work some kind of cushy office job, eh?"

"My job is boring. I basically just transcribe legal forms into digital documents all day, and sometimes I have to scan or print things. What do you do?"

"Oh, I work for a cleaning service that maintains a few apartment buildings. Have you ever taken a scan of your butt and sent it to everyone in the office?"

I laugh loudly at this. "What? No! That would get me fired!"

"It'd be hilarious, though!"

"Would it? That seems more gross than funny."

"Gross things are funny, Shaggy."

"So, you like poop jokes?"

"Poop jokes are great - you can just throw them at the wall until one sticks!"

On our walk, I was treated to several "sticky" jokes, and I completely lost track of where we were headed. Now, as I stand in front of the building, I'm struck by how little time I've spent in this part of town. The establishment looks familiar, but I have never been inside.

Winking at me, she pulls her arm out of mine and gently shoves me forward. "You can get the door for me now!" My heart flutters and a grin spreads across my face as I pull the door open.

We step through the doorway and out of the frigid air. I can see two tables occupied, while several more tables and a line of stools lining the counter remain empty.

Stepping up to the counter, I ask the barista for a latte, and my companion orders a cappuccino. It's not long before our coffee is ready, and we go take a seat at a table in the corner furthest from the doors.

I take a small sip of the hot coffee, enjoying the sensation of the warm liquid on my tongue after the freezing cold outside. "So, what's your name?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Studying my face, she answers, "My name's Dylan."

"Dylan," I annunciate, looking thoughtfully into her eyes. "It's a nice name."

"Really? I've never liked it." Her eyes are fixed on the cup in her hands.

Cocking my head to the side slightly, I blink a couple of times before asking, "Why?"

"Well... Growing up, I was always made fun of for it, having a boy's name. My older sister and her friends wouldn't let me hang out with them, though they always seemed to be around to torment me. I was 13 when I wore a dress for the first time, and they told me I'd always be a flat-chested ugly thing, that I'd look better in dad's boring suits."

I can see underneath the coat she's wearing to a black long-sleeve shirt with a faded design on it. The garment wouldn't have looked out of place in my own closet. Unsure what to say, I look down at my gray slate suit jacket. "The company makes us wear these things at work. It's uncomfortable and a pain to wash."

Dylan has a faraway look on her face. "I tried on my dad's suit once, when I was 16. I'll never forget it. He's small for a man, and it actually fit me. My sister was right."

"Maybe your sister was just being a mean, awful teenager, and you expected the suit to fit you, so it felt like it did. They kept you from trying different things and finding what you really like..."

"I just look horrid in a dress."

Thoughts racing, I study her for another few seconds. I want to tell her that she's perfect, but it seems cliché and unhelpful. I'm sure she could look great in a dress or in a suit. She'd be pretty wearing nothing at all! My eyes widen, and I blush hard at the thought, feeling somewhat ashamed as I look into my cup. Taking a deep breath, I begin talking.

"You can't let other people define how you feel about yourself forever, right? If you look good in a suit, then fine, own it! Do what feels good, because you want to, though. You could spin around in circles your whole life trying to please everyone but yourself, and you'll never be happy. I think you'd look beautiful in a dress, not that it's any of my business, what you wear... What I mean is, I'd go out with you in any dress or suit and be proud to have your company."

For what feels like ages but must at most only be a minute or two, we simply sit and drink our coffees, now at a temperature quite comfortable for taking large swallows. Eyes averted, my cheeks are burning, and I'm considering spilling the beverage on myself for an excuse to go to the bathroom, when Dylan reaches across the table and takes one of my hands in hers.

Looking directly into her eyes again, I can see they are brimming with tears.