“Code yellow! Code yellow!”
I
dashed through the kitchen in my mismatched socks, feet slipping and sliding
across the kitchen floor. I grabbed the door frame to pull myself to a stop and
poked my head into the living room, my comb still stuck halfway through my
knotted head.
“Citron
or sunlight?” I asked breathlessly.
“Citron,”
my roommate confirmed, hands pressed to the glass as she stared down into the
park below.
“Ooh, I
love citron!” I winced slightly as I pulled the comb through the last of my tangled
hair, crossing the room quickly and climbing up onto the window seat beside my
friend. I squinted into the crowd of people below, of students and early
morning commuters and dog walkers that were up and out far earlier than I would
ever be. And there, coming around the corner across the street at a steady
pace, was Code Citron.
He was
shirtless, now that the weather was finally warming up. I could barely see the
faint outline of his earbuds, the cord bouncing in rhythm with his pace. His
slightly too long hair bounced up and down, making me want to brush it out of
his face, just for an excuse to run my fingers through it. His hair was blond,
and I wondered—not for the first time—what colour his eyes were.
All too
soon, he turned into the shaded park across the street, disappearing from our
view into the clump of other early morning joggers. As soon as he was gone, we
both sighed. This was the only perk to living on the 14th floor.
**
The
problem with people-watching—especially when it’s a really cute guy—is that you
quickly lose track of time daydreaming and fantasizing about your “accidental”
first encounter. This is why I took the stairs when the jerk from 14C wouldn’t
hold the elevator, almost tumbling down the steps more than once. This is why I made a mad dash through the middle of
the street, ignoring the blaring of car horns, hoping to cut across the park
and save some time on my way to work. This is why I was checking my phone,
nervously estimating how long it would take me to get to my destination.
This is
why I collided with someone on my way into the park.
“Sorry!”
a male voice proclaimed, as I rubbed the nose that had collided into his chest.
“Didn’t see you there.”
I
looked up, about to say something, but my vocabulary was wiped blank as soon as
I saw who it was. Blond hair, shirtless, and what I now knew was a pair of
sparkling grey eyes that held me locked into place.
No amount of daydreaming could have prepared me for this.
~~
Until later,
- Justyne
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