Numinous

Three

Benj pushed his headphones up over his ears, pressing play on his phone, letting the sounds of his latest demo fill his ears as he stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest. It was a chilly evening, not many people were out and about. He'd seen a group of four or five head into the bar about a half hour ago, and the rest of the time the streets were pretty empty save for a car here and there.

He liked The Metro for a reason.

Not very many people knew about it. It was in a shittier part of town than most people liked to venture out to. The music was good, the crowd was usually decent, and by that he meant small. It was one of his favorite spots to come when he had nothing better to do. He found himself enjoying his time out in public, which never happened. Or maybe it was because he faded into the crowd of people and blended in better here.

He looked down at his phone, at the time, and tried not to let his hopes sink.

He had been waiting for a considerably long time. He knew it had been a long shot, asking out the prettiest woman he had even laid eyes on, but he had hoped that he had one chance with her to prove he wasn’t the big geek he came off as. That he was a man, who wanted her time, and was willing to earn it.

He had no idea what it was about her that drew him to her. She wasn’t just beautiful, although that was a big part of the reason he was originally drawn to her. After he had begun to come to the diner more often, he began to notice small things about the woman.

She was reserved. A bit jumpy, like she was always scared. She was soft spoken, and kind, although she tried not to be. He was always getting lost looking into her deep brown eyes, searching for something, anything that would give him a sign that she wasn’t, in fact, perfect, but he never got that sign. Instead, he just went back several times a week just to see her. Just to order coffee from her. Just to talk to her.

Was that weird? Was he weird for doing that? He knew it was strange, but he wasn’t a direct person. He avoided other people, especially women he found attractive. He had pursued women in the past who had broken his heart into tiny little pieces, and he swore that he would be more careful next time. That he would wait long enough to see if she was a decent human being before falling head over heels for her. So, he did wait. He put his reel out and sat back waiting patiently.

But Avery never bit.

Even when he tried to talk to her, she always seemed distracted, or like she wouldn’t say yes, even if he tried to charm her. She didn’t respond to his flirtatious attempts. He had been discouraged for a minute, but he couldn’t shake the crush he had on her. He just felt like he had to know her. Like the world had set her in front of him one fateful morning when his favorite coffee shop was closed for construction, and he had typed in the closest cup of coffee into his phone, and it had led him to the diner she worked at, Al’s Diner, where he could see her through the big picture window, sitting on the counter and folding napkins facing away from him. Her curls were up in a messy ponytail, and her shoulders were slumped over, like she would rather be anywhere than there.

She drew him in, and he wanted to know why. He was a firm believer that things didn’t just happen. That, sometimes, life put you on paths that it wanted you to take, and you just had to explore them with an open mind.

He'd give her a good hour and a half to show up.

Maybe two.

He knew he looked desperate, but Avery had been the woman of his dreams for so long now, he couldn’t help himself from daydreaming. From wanting to make what he thought about inside of his head for months on end real. Tangible. He was tired of being so anxious. She was just a person. Just another human being, and Benj knew how to talk to other human beings. He was almost thirty years old, of course he knew how to talk to people. If he didn’t, he had more to worry about than whether she showed up or not.

He just got so nervous whenever he looked at her. Her long bronzed legs, the black curls that sat atop her head in a high ponytail most days—or on some occasions in two French braids—her coy smirk, the way she spoke, her laugh. Her warm, almond shaped brown eyes that swam like oceans of chocolate.

She didn't say much, didn't let anyone read into her emotions, but her eyes couldn't lie. They told a different story, one of vulnerability and loneliness. He wanted to lose himself staring into them all the time. Wanted to know everything there was to know about them, about her. Wanted to know what it felt like to have her look at him, what it felt like to have her look at him with affection, instead of cold apprehension. She seemed to be afraid to get close to anyone. He could tell by the way she interacted with people, with her coworkers, but mostly by the way she interacted with him.

Benj didn’t know what it was about him that made her so blatantly nervous, but he had picked up on it almost immediately. She would shake, hands twitching as she played with the notepad in her hand, and refused to look him in the eye, settling on his shoulder or the top of his head, where his curls sat wildly. He had tried to engage her in conversations before, but she had swatted his advances away like they were nothing. She wasn’t interested in drawing attention from random men that wandered in from the streets.

He got it, though. He was awkward and stiff and probably too forward coming. He looked like a lunatic with his black coffee addiction and nervous ticks, but he couldn't help himself. He saw her and just knew. Knew that he wanted to get to know her. Knew that he had to try, at the very least.

But, maybe it was one sided. It usually was. A woman like that? With a guy like him? She was beautiful, intimidatingly so. She didn't glance back at him, or flirt with him, she didn't show interest, but she didn't show she was disinterested either. She always seemed neutral, and Benj thought that was because she was at work. He had to reserve himself for his job—he held himself to the same standards as anyone else.

He reached down into his pocket to fish out his phone and almost dropped it. He thought maybe he was dreaming her up. There across the street, Avery stood, head held low. She wore an old ratty band t-shirt with the neckline cut out into a V, and leggings with big black boots on her feet, around her body lay a brown shoulder purse. Her curly hair was down around her face, long and cascading down her shoulders and back.

His heart beat wildly as he stood straighter. He watched her walk across the street for a moment before wondering what he should greet her with. He didn't know what to do, how to speak to her. She crossed the street before he could decide. He didn't know whether to meet her on the sidewalk or wait for her to meet him where he stood.

He hadn't thought this far ahead. He thought he'd get stood up and he'd have to bear the consequences. He was still frozen in place as she approached him. She smelled of honey lilac and fresh linen. She wore no make-up and no expression on her face.

"Y-you came." He intelligently blurted. It was embarrassing that he had thought long and hard on what to say, only to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. She nodded, raising her eyebrows, looking toward the bar. "So about that drink,"

Up close, he noticed two things that were new; she had an angry red mark on her cheek and her eyes were also red, and puffy as if she'd been crying. He wanted to pull her into a hug, ask her what happened, beat up anyone who upset her, but he didn't do any of that. These urges were fairly new to him; he usually didn't know what to do in these situations.

"You look beautiful," he told her as he led the way to the front door, holding it open for her. She stepped ahead of him apprehensively. "Thanks," she responded. He let her choose where they would be sitting. She chose a heavily lit booth by the bar. She took a seat and he sat opposite her. Her eyes were trained on his headphones, but she looked lost in thought. He reached over and touched her hand with his, and was hurt when she immediately recoiled away from him, sitting back in her seat. She didn't like to be touched. He took a mental note.

"Why'd you ask me out? What do you think you'll get if you call me beautiful?" She asked him, voice steady and even, although she was nervous as all hell, scared she made a mistake coming here. She was defensive and guarded, Benj sensing it instantly, the way she held herself, her shoulders hunched over, like she could protect herself by making herself even smaller.

"I already told you," he began calmly, but she cut him off, an edge to her voice. Her hands were clasped in her lap, her knuckles tight. To keep her hands from shaking. She felt faint, almost like she would pass out from how stressful it was being here. "Yeah, and I don't believe you." Benj felt confused, and wondered what he'd done wrong. She seemed put off by him, a little angry, and it seemed to stem from nothing.

"If you didn't want to come, why are you here?" He asked her, suddenly. He hadn't wanted to force her to go out with him. He was aware of just how harshly that came out and tried to correct himself before things could escalate any further. "I mean, I'm sorry if I was pushy before, I don't want you to be uncomfortable, I just want to know you, but you didn't have to come here just to sate me."

"So if I get up and leave right now you wouldn't follow me? Or come into the diner and make a scene? Or harass me and stalk me until I give you what you want?" She asked in a rush. She thought as long as she asked him and saw his reaction, she could gauge his character. But it was no good. She wasn’t a very good judge of character. He frowned. "What? No, I’m not a crazy person, Avery, I’m being very honest with you, I just wanted to have a drink with you. What's with all the questions?" He asked. She shrugged. "You want to know me; I'm getting to know you first." He didn't see her logic and was quite sure he never would.

"Not sure I'm following, but I'll play along. Question for question?" She sighed. "Seriously? What is this, the second grade?" She asked him. He nodded vigorously. "Yes, I'm serious—and when the hell did they start serving liquor in grade school? Sign me up." she smiled, much to her dismay. "I already don't like this," she said. He smirked. He knew it was evil of him, but he wanted to get something out of her that wasn't hostility after seeing that ghost of a smile twitch across her lips. It was a lovely smile.

"Have you been crying?" He asked her. She looked taken aback by his question. She rolled her eyes to the side and waved over a server. She ordered a neat vodka, and told the server to keep them coming. Benj asked for a chilled beer.

"So, have you been crying?" He asked again as the server walked away. He didn't like how she tried to evade the question. He searched Avery's face for any sign of emotion, but was left empty handed. She wore a mask.

"Yeah, s**t day at work." She wasn't looking at him. She stared at the table. "Rude customers? Did an annoying guy who’s eaten there way too many times ask you out?" She cracked another short lived smile at that. He was persistent, and she probably should have found it annoying, but instead, she just found it kind of charming. Maybe her head was messed up from her past, but his interest in her made it easy to talk to him. She was so used to being ignored and mistreated and disregarded. It was nice to be asked questions and be listened to. She forgot what it was like to be treated as a human being and not a piece of property.

"I wish I had normal people problems like that. I wish I cared if a customer was rude or if some creepy guy asked me out." She sighed finally. She wished she had something to tell him, some explanation for the way that she was, but everything she was upset about, she had to keep to herself. He would definitely get the wrong idea about her, and she liked this dynamic. She liked that he regarded her as a person, and not just a girl. Not just something that he could obtain, or someone he could control.

"Creepy?" He echoed. "Don't recall using the word creepy," The gleam in her eye when she looked up let him know she was messing with him. He was finally seeing some of her sense of humor come out, and it was surprisingly pleasant. She was shy, but he was beginning to see the real her. The Avery that she reserved for those times she wasn’t at work—he supposed. He wondered for a moment what abnormal problems she had.

He wondered if he could solve a few of them.

"Riddle me this; if someone came into your job three times a week just to order shitty lukewarm black coffee from you—and specifically you—leaving you a two-hundred percent tip at the least every time, would you not think it was a little creepy?" She raised her eyebrows at him as he thought of something to say that didn’t make him sound like a creepy stalker or an i***t. It was harder than it sounded.

He flushed a little.

"I'm...okay, yes, I see where you're coming from, and I have no real excuse. I just never learned how to shoot my shot. I just...wanted to see more of you but I didn't know how. You are honestly so far out of my league; I wasn’t even sure how to approach you at first." She shrugged, blushing herself, feeling her heartbeat pick up. Out of his league? What was he even talking about? She was completely undesirable and even she knew that. The amount of men that she had been with brought down her market value even more. He was delusional at best, in her eyes. How could she be too good for him when she had never been good enough for anybody?

She cleared her throat.

"Well, your seduction technique worked. Look at where we are." She changed the subject because it was just easier than addressing all of the thoughts swirling around in her head due to his last comment. He just had this way of speaking that unnerved her. Maybe because he was so humble, or because he was so polite and reserved, but also direct and engaging. She had no idea how to act.

Benj chuckled.

She was funny, always had something smart to say. He liked that; and she was quick on her feet. It was always fun to joke around with someone on his same wavelength. He was almost too goofy for his own good, and he liked to take a break from the daily stresses of his life by cracking jokes and trying to make the most out of what he had. "Didn't think you'd even look twice at me. I never even thought about what to do if you said yes to me. I always figured I'd ask you out and you'd either slap me, or laugh—which you did, so thanks for that." She giggled—actually giggled at his words and then straightened up, as if catching herself doing something she shouldn’t.

"You'd let me slap you?" She asked him. bewildered. He gave her a concerned look. He didn’t think he would have the foresight to stop her if she were going to hit him. Same with anyone—he was definitely more of a lover than a fighter. "Do you want to slap me?" She shrugged her shoulders, setting her coy gaze on his humorously. "I don't want to not slap you. Who creepily takes six months to ask someone else out on a date? I've heard of guys who take their time, but oy vey,"

"There's that word again." He said distractedly, like it was bothering him. Avery was enjoying teasing him for more reasons than one. She wanted to see what it would take for him to snap at her. Or maybe see that he had made a mistake and she wasn’t the right choice for him. Avery wasn’t a friendly person, no matter how afraid she was of everything. She had learned a long time ago that being nice only made them want you more—because they thought you were naïve. She wasn’t naïve. She had realized a long time ago that most men didn’t take very kindly to being called out on their crap. Sure, Benj had been a perfect gentleman to her, but if he was going to out himself as a bad guy, this was the way to bait him out.

But, she slowly began to realize that maybe he wasn’t like the men she knew. He had looked to shrink into himself just a little as he looked down at the table with a frown held on his face. She began to feel bad as he began to speak once more. "I-I don't have any self-confidence, and every time you came to take my order, I wanted to. Believe me, I was dying to ask you out to dinner or lunch, or even just to sit and talk to me for more than two minutes, but I was too scared. It was on the tip of my tongue, but then you'd open your mouth and speak and I'd be at a loss. I’m not good with small talk and basically being a person, so I…did what people like me do best and acted like a creep. I’m sorry. I just thought—and I still think—you were so far out of my league I was dreaming."

Avery felt horrible for teasing him so much when he said such sweet things seemingly from nowhere.

"Do you really think I'm creepy?" He asked suddenly, like he couldn't help himself. She shook her head. "No, I was just teasing," she assured him. He looked relieved. She had never had someone care what she thought of them before. It was odd. "If you think you like me, you're going to have to learn how to take a joke." She told him. "My entire life is a joke," she added.

Benj shook his head. "I know how to take a joke. It's just that, usually, they're funny." She covered her mouth with her hand while she let out a laugh. Benj was trying to keep himself from laughing as well, but they both ended up breaking out into little fits of laughter.

Their drinks finally arrived. He took a sip of his beer, sighing as the cold liquid hit his tongue. He didn't know how thirsty he was. He forgot a lot of things while talking to Avery here like this, like the fact that he hadn't felt the need to tap restlessly on his leg, some beat that was in his head all day. He didn't feel fidgety and anxious. At least not anxious like he usually was. He was nervous, but the more they talked, the more he relaxed.

He watched her take a swig of her drink. Her poker face must be amazing, because she didn't react. He couldn't drink hard liquor without almost regurgitating his stomach's contents. He spent a lot of his early twenties feeling embarrassed by that fact. He used to be teased and pressured into drinking just so he could get violently ill and black out. He was s**t with his alcohol consumption, which was why he usually stuck to smoking and avoiding being invited out as much as possible now—in his late-twenties.

She downed it all, the entire glass of vodka. Benj sat in shock as he witnessed it. She could definitely hold her liquor, or at least pretend to, which was a lot more than Benj could say. He would say he was impressed if he wasn’t so concerned.

"So why today? What was so special about today?"

"It’s March third." He said, taking another drink of his beer. She gave him a confused look. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" She questioned. He shrugged. "My whole life, the number three has always been my lucky number. I would bet my life on the number three. It's almost an obsession, I do things in threes, if I can, that is. Today, I just…I felt like it was the day. The day to grow some balls and ask the gorgeous waitress out."

"I remember now. You sit at the third table with three chairs, tip three dollars, come three times a week. You, sir, are certifiably insane." He laughed. It was funny that half the time, he wasn't aware he had done something compulsive until after the fact.

"Yes, that's what they tell me."

"Are you going to take me and chop me into three pieces?" She asked him. He smiled.

"Only if that's what you're into," he answered without skipping a beat. His eyes were laser focused on her, and it made Avery anxious, so much so that she looked away from him, seeing their server bringing her a new drink. She was grateful for it, downing it as soon as it hit her hand.

She hadn't been drunk in a while, and she craved that feeling now, when she was anxious and nervous.

She remembered the first time she got drunk. She had been thirteen, and she had the misfortune of befriending a man on the bus who bought a bottle of tequila and took her out to the woods. She knew he was just trying to get her drunk so it was easier to sleep with her, because she had been through it before, only those times, it had been drugs. She saw how he watched her every move; like she would try to bolt at any second and he was fully prepared to hunt her down. He thought she was naive. She was about most things.

But s*x wasn't one of them.

She knew it always hurt when they said it wouldn't and it was violent and ugly and he wouldn't let her go until he got what he wanted from her. She knew men like him liked the chase. Liked to hold her down as she fought against them. Something about the way she gave up halfway through, like her spirit had died, made them absolutely lose it. She remembered how much she didn't care at that moment, if he hurt her while she was passed out drunk or not. She remembered thinking maybe it would kill her. But she woke up the next morning alone in a crappy motel room with bruises all over her body and three wadded up twenties with a baggy full of cocaine next to her.

She'd liked getting drunk since then.

The nights flew by quicker and she barely remembered her encounters. Better in the long run, to not remember everything. She had learned from experience that the more she blocked out, the more she disassociated, the easier it was for her to act like it never even happened. If she could forget everything, she would, but she took what she could get.

"Earth to Avery," she was reminded that she wasn't alone, the man across the table was waving his hand in front of her face. She flushed, wondering how long she spaced out for. "Sorry," she said on instinct, hating the fact that she did. He didn't even seem to mind her spacing out, and yet she was making a fool of herself by apologizing for nothing. "I was joking, about, you know, chopping you into pieces. No need to look so frightened."

"I do not look frightened." She argued. He chuckled. "You look like a deer in the headlights half the time, Avery. You've got wide eyes, like Bambi."

"I'm not a f*****g deer," she snapped at him. "Well, clearly." He stated, amazed she could be upset about being compared to a cute little woodland creature. Benj took another sip of his beer. "You get offended easily. It's cute that you think I'm picking on you half the time when I'm just making conversation; at least to me it is."

Avery was having a hard time seeing what he saw in her. In fact, she didn't see it at all. If he was, in fact, interested in her, wouldn't that make him messed up, just like her? "What's the first thing you liked about me?" She asked him quietly. He took a drink of his beer and tapped his finger three times against the glass. "Your voice. I hadn't even looked up, but I knew you were going to take my breath away." He said, a small smile on his face. Avery shifted in her seat. He leaned forward.

"What's the first thing you noticed about me? I won't say like, since I'm not entirely sure you like anything about me." She was caught, for a moment, looking into his eyes. Splashes of green and blue, and an outer layer of bronze colored flakes. His golden lashes were long and low over his eyes, brushing his cheeks when he blinked. His features were soft, but strong at the same time. She couldn’t explain what it was about him that was so striking, but she knew part of it was how his eyes shined. Why had she not noticed how breathtaking he was to look at? Had she simply not looked?

"You have kind eyes." She blurted. He raised his eyebrows. "I do?" Another drink arrived at the table, Avery gratefully downed it. She was nervous, and drinking made her not so nervous. When she was done she slammed the glass down on the table. "Yeah. Most men I meet…actually, all the men I've met have had hard eyes. Black eyes. Demon eyes. They're empty and flat and dead. But not yours. Yours are bright, open and warm."

He blinked at her for a minute and then broke out into an angelic smile. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." He told her, trying not to cheese too hard over the fact that she had spent so much time just looking into his eyes like that. He felt giddy and anxious and stupid because he wasn’t a teenager but he was reminded of those days whenever he looked at her.