Beauty Mark

Chapter 4

There was something liberating about not waking to an alarm clock. The sun was shining, the birds chirping, and I was fully rested and excited to embark on this adventure. I realized I didn't have to shower, so I chose to pull on some yoga pants and a T-shirt before tying my hair into a knot and grabbing my laptop to go to Starbucks to write.

Settling in with my venti sugar-free, non-fat, vanilla soy, double shot, decaf, no foam, extra hot, peppermint white chocolate mocha with light whip and extra syrup, I opened my backpack, pulled out my laptop, and turned it on. It felt so official connecting to Wi-Fi, like today was the first day in the biggest career decision , and I was the big cheese, the top dog in my independent gig.

With a clear mind and a blank page, I set to work on my first novel.

Every day I returned to the same spot, ordered the same drink, and opened the same computer. The words flowed freely as did the coffee and my spending money. I hadn't realized how quickly I could go through a wad of cash on my favorite cups of java, but when there wasn't a paycheck coming in regularly, every five dollars quickly added up. The expenses for this novel accumulated faster than the words on the page.

I had assumed I'd be able to sit for eight hours straight, daily, and just hack away at the keys on my keyboard, but my brain tended to fry before lunch. The idea that I would have a novel ready for publication in a few short weeks quickly dissipated.

There were regulars here-other than me. A collection of us showed up at the same time every day, Monday through Friday. We all worked quietly on our laptops, enjoying the sunshine on the patio and the breeze the spring offered. Papers and pens scattered about our individual tables, but for some reason, we never interacted.

I leaned back in my seat and wound my fingers around my long hair, tying it into a knot before I stuck a pen through it. My arms stretched high above my head as I tried to work some of the tension from my shoulders while looking around. The blonde in the corner was always on her phone, call after call, but I could never decipher anything she said. She kept her voice low while typing. Possibly statistical data, finances of some sort, I didn't know, but intricate spreadsheets with scads of numbers on them were always visible on her laptop.

Then there was the thin guy, not grotesquely but noticeably, with dark wavy hair and glasses. He was always well put together, usually in jeans and polo shirts. I couldn't help but giggle at the old leather flip-flops he always wore. He was tan, although it was impossible to tell if that was from the sun or his natural coloring. When he caught me staring, his pale-green eyes struck me, stealing my breath, before I quickly turned my attention to the gentleman always seated to my right. Ironically, none of us ever varied our location-and probably not our beverages, either. We each had tables that were somehow never occupied when we arrived, and we each left them for their respective user.

The hottie next to me, while easy on the eyes, was a pompous ass. Yes, he had the body of a Greek god. His skin was sun-kissed, his golden hair streaked with highlights, and every muscle appeared painstakingly cared for...he was stacked. But every time he came, he met with a different woman. They'd engage in short discussions, and then they were off. I eavesdropped, feeling sorry for who I assumed was his girlfriend on the other end of his cell phone, who was also obviously unhappy with his daily meetings. I couldn't do it. I could never be with a man that beautiful. There were just too many temptations for men who looked that good, and he seemed to meet up with a lot of them.

He peered up from his conversation, making uncomfortable eye contact, and my lips lifted into an uneasy smile as I returned my focus to my book. I wondered as I stared at the screen if any of my tablemates had ever considered me in the way I just did them. Hell, maybe they hadn't even noticed I was here every day, sharing the same space, using the same Wi-Fi. Maybe they were each unaware of my existence.

Unable to focus, I hit save, shut down my computer, and packed my bag for the day. When I stood to leave, Brainiac looked up and offered a genuine smile that reached the corners of his eyes just as he pushed his glasses up his nose. His eyes shined, a soft, pale-green, reminding me of an Andes mint. The color was such a stark contrast against the white surrounding them and his olive complexion, that I paused to really take notice. Brainiac waved in the most awkward of ways and then shifted his sight back to his computer.

Spreadsheet Girl never looked up, and Muscle Man continued his diatribe with the poor girl on the other end of the phone as I slung my backpack onto my shoulder and grabbed my keys off the table. When I got to my car, I glanced back to the front of the coffee house in unnerving curiosity. Brainiac watched me from afar. I smiled back at his innocence, causing him to quickly avert his stare, and I disappeared into the driver's seat.