Page 7 of The Art of Loving Ellie
“You too, Sue Anne.” Giving her one last hug goodbye, I wait for her to disappear behind the back counter before I make my move.
I can do this.Taking a few calming breaths, I set my shoulders back and try to exude a confidence I don’t truly feel.
Two large bookcases create a right angle in the back right-hand corner of the shop, accentuating a sitting area. A small, circular farmhouse-style coffee table is nestled in the middle of two different colored claw foot chairs, and the man sits with his legs slightly spread, looking comfortable and relaxed—not an ounce of nervousness showing on his face.
My heart beats out of my chest, and the hair on my arm stands on end when he rises from his seat and reaches his hand out to greet me. Taking my small pale hand in his and giving it a firm shake, he smiles down at me brightly, “Hi, Ellie.”
I’m awestruck for a moment as my entire body hums with excitement. This is all so foreign to me. It’s like I’m from a different planet where flirting exists, but I never got the ‘How-To’ manual.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mystery Man.” My words don’t fumble out for once, and I mentally pat myself on the back, proud that I can speak like a normal human being—momentarily.
“Mystery Man, I like that. Maybe I should legally change it?” He taps his chin in thought at the suggestion.
I almost blurt out that I’ve been calling him Mr. Attractive but by some miracle, my word vomit filter has chosen to show up for work today. “Just tell me it’s not something strange, like Chris?” I’m teasing him, but I start sweating immediately, praying that his name isn’tactuallyChris.
“What’s wrong with Chris?” he asks, tilting his head a little.
So much for that filter.
Waving my hands around defensively, I start to backpedal. “N—nothing at all. I mean, it would be weird if it was Chris now—especially since I knew a girl in college whose boyfriend was a total creep. We used to call him Creepy Chris when she wasn’t around.” I feel my right eye begin to twitch as it takes everything in me not to outwardly cringe. My awkwardness never ceases to amaze me.
The sound of his lighthearted laughter touches my ears, and he finally relinquishes the name I’ve been dying to know. “Tyler.”
I take a moment to survey this stranger that I now know as Tyler. He has an olive green long sleeve shirt on that is truly doing wonders for his biceps, and his wispy brown hair is a bit unruly. The bottoms of his dark jeans aren’t pulled all the way out of his wheat-colored work boots, almost as if he was in a rush putting them on and didn’t bother with fixing it.
I like this careless quality about him. I aspire to be less rigid in all aspects of my life, but I’m constantly finding myself being safe, and not adventurous in any way. I can’t remember the last time I was on a real date, let alone had a boyfriend.
Sure, I had a couple of one-nighters when I was in college, but I’m feeling more and more like The Virgin Mary every day—well, minus the whole baby thing. Alex’s comment about my becoming a spinster isn’t too far off at this point in my life. After all, most twenty-three-year-olds are in a committed relationship, if not at the very least, sexually active.
I smile at him as he releases his hold. He probably didn’t even notice that we were still holding hands, but I'm painfully aware of every second of skin to skin contact in our little exchange. “Tyler, it’s nice to meet you.”
He sweeps his arm toward the chairs that are snuggled up to the coffee table, and I accept his invitation to have a seat. I lightly run my finger back and forth, drawing patterns into the suede material of my chair as I try to find some footing on this unfamiliar ‘casually meeting people’ ground.
“You should know that my mouth sometimes has a way of getting away from me,” I announce, nervously. I can’t help but notice the way his light brown eyes wander to my lips. He lowers himself into the chair next to me, and his knee ever so lightly leans against mine.
“I took the liberty of getting us some coffee and water,” he offers, not bothering to comment on my statement. Maybe he’s into overtalkative, clumsy chicks. Who am I to judge? Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his ankle over his opposite knee, causing the point of contact our legs are making to heat to a higher degree. My eyes go wide with shock when I see a steaming cup of black coffee sitting in front of me.
I pick up the pink polka dot mug, breathing in the calming scent of coffee beans. “Care to explain how you know my coffee order, Creepy Chris?”
Dimples indent both of his cheeks when he laughs at my joke, and oddly, I find myself wanting to touch them. “Would you believe me if I told you I was a good guesser?” I roll my eyes jokingly. It’s as if we’re somehow dancing with our words, and I’m enjoying the give and take of our playful conversation.
He puts his hands up submissively. “Okay, you got me. I may have been in line Monday when you came in to get yourself some coffee. I thought you looked familiar when I bumped into you yesterday.” I don’t bother correcting that it wasIwho bumped intohim.
“My aunt always warned me about the stalker types.” I shrug lightly, smiling against my cup.
He leans forward with his elbows now resting on both knees, delighted by my teasing. “Did she now?”
“Mmhmm. Said I should be especially careful of the tall, goofy-looking ones,” I pause, and shiver mockingly, “dangerous.”
Am I flirting? Alex would be so proud.
“Goofy looking?” He scrunches his face together, and our laughter fills the room as we take small sips of our coffees, letting our lighthearted banter settle around us.
He’s so carefree. It’s one of the things I like the most about him so far. He has a way of drawing me in, making it easy to want to be close to him even as my mind warns me that this may be a mistake.
The sound of Tyler speaking breaks through my thoughts. “So, for our super casual, non-date, I thought maybe we could play a little game.”
“A game?” I ask, curious what he’s up to.
