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But crowns are heavy and thrones are easily shattered. Just ask my father.
I turn a corner again when I catch the slightest whiff of something foreign but still familiar. Poppy perfume. It makes my lids go heavy and I stop in the middle of the street, inhaling deeply. I draw as much as I can of it down my lungs, before something pricks the back of my neck and I get shivers up my spine.
Frowning, I abruptly turn around.
I’ve never understood the expression beforebut now I do. Just now it felt as if someonewalked over my grave.Definitely an elusive feeling, almost barely there but I could’ve sworn.
My eyes narrow as I look through the throng. They’re all busy talking on their phones, stomping and barking before everything stills. I don’t hear the sirens anymore, or the woman whinging from a window upstairs or the bristly cats fighting in the alley.
For a moment, I think the crowd will just part and I’ll see park girl stand there at the end, burning like sunshine. That doesn’t happen. I’m disappointed but I brush it off, because I’m a realist. I turn around and keep walking again even though my body’s on edge.
I could’ve sworn…
I feel like I have to look over my shoulder, feel like I’m missing out on something. Somewhere, somehow a dice seems to have been rolled. Strings of fate must have been yanked. Fuck, I do not believe in fate.
But still, it’s not a bad feeling at all.
3.
Ella-Ashley
Stopping in my tracks, I freeze when Hendryk does the same. A lump forms in my throat. Why did he stop? I quickly jump behind a poster for plus-size lingerie, then peek out as adrenaline drops from my head to my legs.
He has turned around and is now looking through the crowd with narrow eyes. Obviously, he can’t see me, but I still get the sense that he knows he’s being followed. A wave of shame washes over me.
I shouldn’t be doing this. If he knew, he’d probably be horrified. He’d reprimand me and suggest I get a better hobby. But this isn’t a hobby. It’s more than that. I lost track of time as soon as I saw him, felt my inner mechanics start up again.
Something inside of me screams that he’s the one I’m supposed to be with, which I know is insane. If I heard a guy talk or even act like this, I’d hide and get a restraining order. But it’s different when it’s a girl, right? It’s not like I’m dangerous. I’m not even actually going todoanything. I’ll justwatch.
Hendryk doesn’t discover me in the large crowd and resumes his pace. And I admire him, like everything about him, like the way he’s considerate about his surroundings when a man of his size could just bulldoze right through.
I’m curious to know where he’s going, wondering for a horrible second if he’s about to meet up with a girlfriend of his. But that doesn’t happen and he surprises me by stepping inside The China Tea Room.
I’ve always wanted to go there, and I once ended up telling my boss. She laughed at me and said, I should just stick to the basic coffee-chains.
Unaware that he’s being watched from across the street, Hendryk greets the host before squeezing into a small table by the window. I’m relieved. The place is intimate and had he chosen a spot away from the window, I would’ve been unable to see him.
Removing his coat, Hendryk nonchalantly stretches out over the velvet seats, dressed in a blue blazer with an ivory shirt underneath. He’s such a natural man and there’s something wholesome about him. I grew up on a wheat farm as a farmer’s daughter and something about Hendryk reminds me of that first, fresh wheat of the year.
The one you rubbed between your palms and that smelled so good. It just made you feel well-nourished and ready for anything. I guess I’ve always looked for that same familiar feeling in a human.
Hendryk checks his phone, then takes out a notebook. He puts it on the white-cloth table and starts writing something. My eyes trace the pen’s movement and it seems a little too fluent. Maybe he’s drawing and I wonder what he’s drawing. Whatever it is, he seems fully absorbed by it while I’m absorbed by him. He’s so dreamily focused.
There’s nothing extreme about him, everything’s justright. The corners of his eyes are soft, the corners of his mouth upturned and I can’t imagine him sneering. His hands are huge but affectionate. I can tell just by the way he holds that slim pen. My lids flutter. A gentle giant. That’s exactly what he is.
And I want to break into his world, know what he feels like intimately. Does he murmur sweet-nothings in a girl’s ear or does he immediately roll over and fall asleep? Does he dream vividly at night, or does he forget everything as soon as he wakes up?
What does he look for in a woman and do I have at least a smidge of it? Those are the questions swimming in my mind.
Hendryk looks up, smiles politely at the waiter and puts his notebook away. He takes a teapot and pours the oolong into a cup, then proceeds to butter his scones with clotted cream and jam. He definitely has an interesting way of eating. In roughly three minutes, the whole tray is polished with nothing but crumbs left.
Leaning back in his seat, he drinks from the cup with his pinky out and somehow he still makes it look masculine. He calls someone on the phone, grinning boyishly and I’m guessing he’s talking to a friend.
Slightly tossing his head back, he lets out a relaxed laugh and I wish I could hear it. I shift, feeling something stirring within again and it’s starting to disturb me. The sensation is unfamiliar but strong. It makes my fingers prickle and my mouth feels parched.
Pulling at my sleeves, I cross my arms over my chest and I know the right thing to do is to just…ask him out? Do something practical that involves his consent, instead of standing on the street and spying on him.
If he ever catches me looking, I’ll die.
