he said, she said

He was an hour early that day. Far too early.

His palms were abit sweaty from nervousness. He could not believe he was meeting a friend from high school 6 years later.

What would I say?

He felt like a bashful schoolgirl.

"Breathe," he told himself. And ordered his 3rd ice tea.

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She didn't notice him eyeing her as she walked through the store.

In fact, he had already been eyeing her ask she walked across the street.

There was something about her that seemed to illuminate the dull day.

Little by little, it just got better and better.

Her eyes danced with exuberance as she focused on the vehicles, darting past traffic as she crossed the road, mouthing some lyrics to probably some punk song.

She didn't bother make her self up, her face paled in comparison to her long sleeved maroon sweat shirt, khaki berms and a pair of decently old, red dirty sneakers.

Oh the sneakers. He hated them instantly.

He well wished that she was in a light summer's dress, complete with Jimmy Choos or a Manolo Blahnik to finish off the ensemble.

Come-fuck-me shoes, he thought smiling to himself.

Surely a lady of her grace would have the most perfect arch to her feet that matched the contours of her petite body.

Bringing himself back to reality, he stood up too quickly and banged his knee on the table.

The pain struck him like a sharp electric current.

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She noticed him instantly at the coffeeshop. Floppy, hair, perfect smile, still towering.

And still clumsy.

Apparently he had knocked the table while trying to stand up and had what seemed like ice tea all over himself.

She greeted him with a peck on the cheek.
Have you waited long? She asked.

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He felt like such a doofus.

His ego bruised by the pain in his knee and his soiled couderoys.

God she smelt wonderful, he told himself, as she greeted him.

When she asked if he had waited long, he smiled.

No, he lied. In fact, I just got here.