It was a cold rainy day, just like all the other days in this past week. I walked outside to my Beetle and that was when I saw him. He was leaning against a light pole, reading. People were probably wondering why he didn’t sit down on the bench that was right beside him, but not me. I found it fascinating how he didn’t care what people thought about him, he was who he was. I found the urge to walk up and say something but when he looked up from his book his eyes scared the urge away. They were a bright green, almost neon, but then again he was across the street.
I got inside my car and drove to my boutique. I had been working here since I moved into my own place which was a few years back. My boyfriend hated my job and told me often that it wasn’t ‘real’. He worked at a college teaching calculus, he was almost fifteen years older than me being forty five. The shop was warm inside as I shed my rainy layers; I was the first one here, again. Thank God I had a key. I started my daily routine by stacking and folding the new clothes.
My day went by as usual; helping customers, restacking shelves, and taking orders.
When I locked up the shop, it was around four o’clock. I decided to go for a walk, since the rain had stopped.
I passed some of the small businesses, including a chocolate shop. I walked in to the sound of a bell and the smell of sweet moist chocolate. There was every kind of chocolate you could think of; chocolate covered strawberries, moist chocolate chip cookies and so much more. I passed couples feeding each other chocolate doves, and an old man looking at chocolate roses. Even though Valentine’s Day was far away, people still showed their love and affection. I walked over to the chocolate covered pretzels, and reached for one at the same time as another hand reached also. I pulled back and looked up to see the same green eyes I had seen earlier.
‘I’m beginning to think your following me.” I joked, and he flashed an amazing smile
“No, I think your following me.” He poked back, then handed me the pink pretzel I was reaching for.
‘Thank you” I said as I walked over to the counter. I watched him as he grabbed two pretzels and a chocolate covered flower, it must have been for his girlfriend.
“I think you’re up” he said waving his muscular hand in front of my face. I looked ahead and the cashier was tapping her long nails on the table. I placed my things down and swiped my debit card; he was now behind me in line. She handed me my bag and her long nails rapidly scratched through my skin, I screeched and dropped my pretzel.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry” She reached inside a bag that looked to be hers, and pulled out a first aid kit. But by then the cut was bleeding profusely, the guy who had been behind me said,
“You know I think we should get you to a hospital.” He grabbed a stack of napkins and wrapped them around the bloody area then picked up my bag that I had dropped, and walked me out of the store. I looked back to see the woman looking confused, as well as everyone else in the store.
“Wait, it’s not that bad.” I said, but as I looked at the white flesh I discarded what I had just said and nodded in the direction of the community health clinic. He flashed that beautiful smile again and sent a rush of heat up my spine as he held my arm.
“You know if I had a gash like that, I would be screaming like a child.” As he said this I heard an accent that I hadn’t heard earlier.
“What’s your name?” I asked
“Patrick,” Irish I thought to myself, “and yours?” he asked
“Isabelle,” he smiled, “But most people just call me Bella”
We walked up to the clinic, and he held the door open for me.
“Thank you.” I said as he nodded in response
I walked up to the counter where a young looking lady sat dressed in scrubs.
“Hi, how may I help you?” she asked
“Well I think I may need stiches,” I held up my hand while holding the napkins on,” it’s pretty deep.” She gasped and walked around the counter, to get a better look.
“Oh yeah, you’re gonna need a few stiches. Come with me.” I looked over at Patrick, who was standing with his hands in his pockets.
“Are you coming?” I asked
“Uh, sure.” We both followed the nurse into a white room with one chair and a patient bed. I sat on the bed as Patrick sat in the plastic chair. A few minutes later, a small man with grey hair and a beak like nose walked into the room with a bright smile.
“So, what do we have here?” he asked as he sat his clipboard down and picked up my wounded hand. He examined it for a few minutes, as I watched Patrick; he was thin with red hair. Definitely Irish. He was the furthest thing from weird, but yet he was. The way he looked at the paintings on the wall. The way he stared at my face as if trying to read my emotions like a book, He was wonderful.
“Ok, we are going to give you a few stiches and some medication to sooth the pain you may feel afterward. Alright?” he asked with a smile, I nodded in response. He left the room a few minutes later after asking me about my medical history.
“So, where are you from exactly?” I was fully interested in this man now.
“Well I used to live in Dublin for a while, until my mother died and I moved here.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” He smiled,” Thank you, for helping me out.”
“No problem. If I hadn’t you probably would have bled to death.” We both laughed as a nurse walked in with a needle, I had had stiches before, and it wasn’t that big a deal. But Patrick seemed to think it was, as he stood up and held my healthy hand. It shocked me that we had only met a few hours ago and he was already holding my hand, but some part of me liked it. I grinned at him as the nurse took my hand and began the process.
After about an hour later, the prescription was placed and we were walking out of the clinic.
“Thanks again, for everything.” I smiled into his bright green eyes
“You’re welcome,” This time he looked me dead in the eye with a mischievous glint, and for a quick moment I thought he was going to kiss me, I hoped he was going to kiss me. “Here’s your pretzel.” He was still staring into my eyes as he handed me the bag.
“Thanks.” Was all I could manage to say.
“You know, you say thank you a lot.” He grinned.
“Is that a bad thing?” I didn’t want the conversation to end.
“Not at all,” he kissed my check with his warm Irish lips,” It was nice to meet you, Bella,” He smiled one last time and handed me a chocolate rose before he turned and walked away.
I stood there with the rose in my hand, not knowing what else to do, in pure shock. Why did he leave? Was that it? And most of all, would I ever see him again?
Please comment your thought. Im only 15 but i love to write and any cunstructive criticism is gladdly appreciated! Thank's!!!
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