Young Love

There’s this girl. I can’t get her out of my head. Ophelia. What a beautiful name. It suits you. I walk by that coffee shop on Sixth Street every day after school, hoping I will catch you there. We briefly met, but I hope you remember me at least. Do you remember me, Ophelia?

Today feels different. Maybe there’s something in the air. It’s cool and misty—one of those cozy days where time seems to pass by just a bit slower. I don’t usually go home this way, but it’s become a part of my routine. Every time, my mind wanders on this walk from the chaos of overworked students into the world of overworked adults. That subtle shift in the atmosphere, no matter how pungent these city streets are, I can always smell her.

Today, as with many others, I always know where I first met her. God—that girl was beautiful. Ophelia. Her name falls like petals on the tip of my tongue—a melody that puts air in my lungs. Ophelia. I know it seems ridiculous to wait around for some girl. Especially one I barely know, but I can’t help it. She might be my soulmate. I get so anxious whenever I walk past this coffee shop. My black and white Converse shoes slip on the concrete as cars race by — their revving shaking the bells of the coffee shop’s door.

My steps hit the asphalt, the tan rubber soles of my shoes collecting bits of the city with me. I peek through all the windows every time, but no luck. I miss her. I keep replaying that day in my head, wondering if I could’ve said or done anything to change the outcome of how I’m feeling right now—how I’ve been feeling. I’d kill to see you again, Ophelia. 

I’m not a creepy guy. I feel like I should address that. Am I oscillating the lines between infatuation and borderline obsession? I hope not, god–I don’t want to freak her out. I’m just a hopeless romantic; that’s what they’re called, right? Or maybe I’m like a conqueror of love? I don’t think conqueror is the right word, either. I’ve never dated anyone. My mom says I’m less off-putting now that I’m older. I’m “eccentric” in an endearing way, which I assume is a compliment.  

Once I see Ophelia again, I hope she can drown out these aggravating voices in my head. I just need confirmation that I’m not that little kid still making people uncomfortable. I can’t trust my feelings. I don’t know if the next word that slips out of my capricious mouth will ruin everything. Mom says I’m endearing. That must count for something, right? I hope you can see that I’m better. 

Ophelia—girl, you’ve got my chest feeling so warm. I wish I could hold onto that feeling forever. Permeate it through my body, just to keep you closer to me. Maybe I’m asking too much of you. Putting too much weight on you. I don’t want you to fix me once I find you. I haven’t decided what my intentions are with you. Right now, I’m fighting the urge to run back across the street to peek through the windows one last time before I head home. But as always, I hope our paths cross, Ophelia. I miss you. 

This is so creepy. What is wrong with me? I think passing by the coffee shop every day for the past two weeks is reasonable, right? Not my fault my house is in that direction. However, it’s the weekend. But here I am, in the same spot where my eyes first painted a palette of her sunkissed skin. There are not enough colors in the world to reflect your beauty — not even the darkness of my eyes, Ophelia. 

I can still picture how your body moved through the doors of this coffee shop that day. I don’t think you even noticed me as you passed my table. I can still hear the grain of grout that broke from the tile, which skidded across the ashy gray floor as you stared at the menu—letting person after person step before you. The ambient golden hue of warm tones coated the walls, engulfing us in a timeless fantasy. 

Eardrums were ribbing from the bells of traffic, muffled conversations soon to be a memory, and the bustle of machines brewing, foaming, and creating steam. I remember the ragged texture of the table as my fingers latched on—the only thing keeping me together. Ophelia, your presence resurfaced dormant feelings I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. 

I’m not a creepy guy — but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I watched as the furrow on her brow pressed further together as her eyes danced across the menu. She looked so vulnerable, so unsure. I just had to help her. I wanted to talk to her. Hear the rhythm of her voice. But I was too far away. I needed to be near her. I had to get closer. I figured playing it casual was the safest option.

  I’ve learned that people find me more appealing when I act this way. And now wasn’t the time to test out a different personality. 

“Everything looks good, huh?” I asked. My arms were crossed to keep my hands from wandering. She slowly drifted from the menu to me, her brown eyes meeting mine with a lovely smile that made my heart quiver. Her soft giggle made love to my ears. “Appears so. It’s my first time here,” she said. 

I gasped and smiled at her, “First time? Oh, you poor thing. Well, what do you usually drink? Maybe I can help?” She tapped her finger against her full two-tone lips, “Hmm…well. I don’t know.” 

She laughed, her coily hair bouncing with every movement she made, “I want something sweet but not too sweet, you know?”

 I nodded, “Ah– I see.” I looked at the menu and searched for a drink to make her taste buds wish for a kiss. “Perfect. Do you mind if I order for you? It’s on the house, of course.” 

“Well, I’m not gonna say no.” 

I shook my head as we laughed. I was doing good so far, I hoped. I ordered our drinks, and we waited near the pick-up counter. I offered to sit us at a table, but she declined— I twitched at that. I thought girls liked it when men pulled out chairs for them? But I had to remind myself I can’t force someone to sit down. So, I let it slide.

 I realized she’s more decisive than I gave her credit for. And that just made me like her even more. I tried to keep a respectful distance as we stood beside each other.  A pretty girl like her can alter your brain chemistry. I couldn’t restrain myself anymore, but I didn’t want to pounce on her. But then again, it’s her fault for saying no to me. I gave her a chance. Besides, this side of her was particularly intriguing. “My name’s Dominic, but I go by Nicky.” I offered my hand.

  “Ophelia. Thanks for the drink, by the way.” She said as her hand interlocked with mine. Her palms were soft. I liked that. My eyes traced up her arm to her brown eyes. God, her eyelashes were pools of ink—so wispy. 

 “No problem…” I trailed off and finally caught wind of her name. Ophelia? My mind flooded with every tone in which I could enunciate the musicality of the syllables Ophelia. God—what a beautiful name. Hell, everything about her was angelic. I could see why love and lust are amalgamated. 

“So… Nicky,” she tapped me on the arm, and our eyes met again, “Are you a student?”

  Her touch sent shivers down my body, “Uhm. Yeah. I’m a senior. You?” She leaned against the wall, “Oh, cool, same. Are you ready for graduation?”  

I mimicked her gesture, rested my head against the wall, and groaned, “Absolutely not. I still haven’t figured out what I want to do.” 

She chuckled into the palm of her hand, “Same, same. You’d think after four years, something might click.” I really did love how bouncy her coily auburn hair was. Everything about Ophelia made me tipsy. We laughed again, another harmonic sound in this coffee shop's cacophony.  

“A waste of time, I fear,” I said.  

“A waste of time, indeed.” She replied. 

The barista cut our conversation short as they called out our orders. I handed Ophelia her drink with a sleeve, “Careful, it’s hot.” Her eyes never left mine as she took a sip, “You know what, Nicky? This is actually pretty good. I should start going to more coffee shops, looking confused.” 

I smiled and patted her shoulder. The texture of her sage coat was just as soft as her skin. “Well, Ophelia…this might be the only shop that offers on-the-house recommendations from your boy, Nicky.” 

She furrowed her eyebrow at me as I withdrew my hand, “My boy? Oh… nah.” 

I didn’t understand her expression, and the slight bass in her tone tightened the nerves in my body. Did I say something wrong? Why the hell did you say that, Nicky? I might as well have thrown in a couple of homegirls and ya’ heards in there. I was almost too piqued to reply. I did not like her tone. At all. God—Ophelia, you’re so frustrating. I can’t seem to get a read on you. 

“Geez, lighten up, Nicky.” She cackled, which brought the biggest smile to my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smiled like that. I didn’t know I could smile like that, if I’m being honest. There she goes again, pulling me in. I tilted my head down, the warmth of my cheeks unable to shield themselves from my tawny complexion.

 “My apologies. I–uhm. Yeah, sorry about that, Ophelia.” I made eye contact with her again, holding onto my remaining audacity. She shook her head and laughed, “You’re fine. I was joking.” 

I chuckled, “... I realized that now. You’re just so easy to talk to; I got carried away.” Ophelia stayed quiet for a moment; I watched her lips wrap around her cup’s lid. Everything she did was just enticing. Maybe I was a creep. However, checking out a pretty girl isn’t creepy behavior—at least not in this situation. 

She inched closer to me as her phone buzzed in her pocket. The apologetic look that pranced across Ophelia’s eyes was my favorite moment of our interaction thus far. She looked at me as if I was more than what people surmised of me. Her reactions were genuine in every aspect. I could just be Nicky. She seemed to like Nicky—this version of him. Maybe I’ve always been this, Nicky? I didn’t know. 

But I was acutely aware of the puncture in my back when she said, “Oh my god. Sorry, but I have to go, Nicky.” It felt like my world was ending. Ophelia, please don’t leave me. 

 I wanted to learn more about her. I was desperately grasping at what the universe so cruelly allowed me to experience, only to have it all ripped away. Ophelia, I know I can’t make you stay.

Despite how much I wanted to grab her wrist and not let her go, I smiled. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t worry about it. Glad you enjoyed the drink, Ophelia. See you around?”

  It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair—how all these strangers had the same access to her. I wished I could’ve found a way to get you alone. I just need more time, Ophelia. Please give me more time. 

She smiled at me for the last time, “Yeah… sorry, Nicky. It was nice meeting you, though! Thanks for the drink. I will be marking this down as my new fav. But uh, yeah. See you around. Bye, Nicky!” 

Ophelia, huh? I had no idea my first crush would be love and light personified. After she left, I sat back down at my table, unable to find comfort in these conflicted feelings. My mind was a jumbled mess of what-ifs that never unraveled—unsettling sorrow swimming in the pits of my stomach. Were everyone’s crushes like this? An unholy concoction of misery, nostalgia, and longing for a girl who barely knows you?

  — I hardly know her. I guess the prospect of being around someone new is orgasmic, spewing endorphins all over your lovesick brain. Ophelia, I want to devour you most respectfully. Truly worship you. God, that girl was driving me through it. 

I sat at the coffee shop until it closed that day, hoping she might pop back in for whatever reason. I forgot to ask for her number, socials, or anything else to find her again. “See you around?” The hell? Like we live in a 4x4 city. I’d have better chances running into the same cockroach than Ophelia. I watched so many people pass by the shop, and a part of me wondered if I should’ve followed her after she left. Not like all the way to wherever she was going; that’d be insane. But maybe a quick block or a few feet? I would’ve been satisfied just by watching which direction she went in. Something y’know? It’s like that whole interaction was just some episode in my head. Ophelia, I really need to see you again. You are truly remarkable. Such a sweet girl. Ophelia, was it really a pleasure meeting me?

I know I should just leave her alone, not that I’m bothering her. I can’t even find her! Hello! — That’s the whole problem. My entire being is aching, desperately scratching below the ice, trying to reach the surface of my beloved Ophelia.  

It’s like, how am I supposed to continue like this? It was cute at first, but I’m starting to go insane. I love her. Well, I love the idea of her. The Ophelia that’s been kissing on the strings of my soul, begging me to find her. However, I’m scared. Am I less off-putting as my mom says I am? Even now, I am sitting in this spot, replaying, relieving, and overanalyzing that day — just ruminating. I haven’t actually been inside the coffee shop since that day. 

All I do is just creep past it on my walks home from school. Well, not creep per se. But, like, I like to savor my stride just in case luck feels like giving back to the needy. Ophelia, if we ever meet again, will you eventually get out of my head? Or would meeting her make everything worse? Now, I’m too self-conscious to leave. To everyone else, it seemed like I walked in here just to stare out a window for the past hour. I don’t even have my phone on me.  

I’m definitely short a few sense and some change. It also doesn’t help that the workers here probably recognize my face since I’ve been passing by so much. Now, I’m inside. Great. However, it could be worse. It’s not like I’ve been showing up here since that day to order her favorite drink. I thought about it, but I don’t like mocha cappuccinos. Plus, it took me until now to walk back in here, which I am thoroughly regretting. 

God—this is so embarrassing. Maybe I can slip out when the next person walks in. I’m hiding my face in my hands—elbows bruising from the pressure against the table. So, no one wants coffee? I haven’t even heard someone walk out yet. Everyone can’t possibly be working on stuff in here. Go home. 

This has to be karma, right? Trapping myself in a coffee shop over a girl. It’s for Ophelia, but still. I doubt Ophelia would show up anyway. I’m here way too early. She seems more like an afternoon coffee girl. Now, anxious Nicky can’t move his little legs three feet towards the door he was so transfixed on entering. I’m about to hit my third week chasing after this dream. She’s worth it, but life isn’t some fairytale. Or if it is, what a tortuous Cinderella story I’m living. Though, I would like to think Ophelia would be my Prince Charming. 

Finally! Prayers have been answered. Someone waltzed in for their daily brew, and I managed to crawl out. If I had stayed any longer, I would’ve been filling out a job application. Once my body hit the winter world, everything around me froze. The chilling mist was perfectly numbing. I was starting to enjoy the winter because it graciously led me to Ophelia. The smallest things reminded me of her. I can’t even look at the color green the same anymore. 

I glance at the coffee shop’s door, my eyes finally registering the sign painted on the glass through the icy glaze: Bean Waitin’ 4 U! I pinch the bridge of my nose and laugh. I need to go home. This can’t be real life. Bean Waitin’ 4 U!? Are you serious? I’m laughing almost manically as I’m walking home. I’m baffled. I can’t wait to write a million love poems about this in my diary and sing them to the birds, telling them this is destiny. Ophelia, we’ll make Romeo and Jules wish they killed themselves sooner. Now I’m certain that we’re getting closer, Ophelia. I don’t mind waiting.