Omar sat in his car, his mirror down, running his hands through his hair. He kept finding himself checking out his looks, his face, his shirt, his jeans, everything. He had spent about two hours at his house before hand, looking through his closet, wondering what he should put on. His last date had been, what, in the sixth grade? Some girl named Amy, who he'd met in the library once. They'd 'gone out' for a week. The most they'd done was hold hands. But it was sixth grade, and in sixth grade, Omar thought that was the best thing that could happen to him.
He'd debated, and he'd tried to think of what would be nice, what would impress. But he couldn't really think of anything he had that was outstanding, that would astonish her, so finally, he had decided on just simple jeans and a black Motion City Soundtrack t-shirt. He wanted everything to be perfect tonight- he still couldn't believe she'd said yes. Omar knew, yes he did, some people won't admit it, but... Omar knew he was unpopular. Very unpopular. The nerd, the geek, the guy nobody really cares about.
But she was cute, she was very cute, and she was nice. She made Omar happy when he was around her, just by being herself, and he had decided that he could take the chance. It hadn't been easy- he had stumbled when he had done it, said it, to be frank, quite awkwardly, and he was pretty sure he had broken a sweat and probably blushed on top of that. But, for some reason... she had said yes. She had agreed to go out with him, and that night, even just at his house listening to music and writing, Omar couldn't help but basking in a happy, radiant glow that she had left him in.
But, now in the car, Omar felt uncertain again. He felt anxious and worried. What if she had decided not to come? What if she had just decided, fuck it, he wasn't worth coming? An even worse situation played out in his mind... what if she had come, but she'd come with her friends? What if they were all there, just waiting to laugh at him, the loser who thought he had a chance with someone like her? But she wouldn't do that. He remembered her in school, always smiling and laughing, joking around with her friends. She was a nice girl.
He reached into his glove compartment, and pulled out a bottle of cologne, applying a few sprays to his neck and then to his wrists. He had come as prepared for this as he possibly could- he had brought some gum with him in his back pocket, as well as making reservations for 7 at the restaurant. It was a small, nice corner cafe called Marie's. It had great food, especially the crepes, but the main reason Omar had decided on it was the atmosphere. It had candle lit tables, and on the wall were painted scenes of Paris- the Eiffel Tower, the town square, things like that.
Omar got out of the car, and made his way towards the cafe, still nervous, still worried. What if she didn't like what he was wearing? What if she didn't like the food? What if she- And then he saw her. She was wearing a simple tank top, tight cut jeans, and her backpack. Perhaps that didn't fit the traditional thought of beauty... but under the light of Marie's sign, standing there waiting for him, she looked beautiful.
"Uh... hey." ...Omar couldn't believe he had just said that. As an opener... well, that wasn't great. But what... dammit, he had to do something better than that. What could he- he decided to follow it up with something simple. Just speak from his heart, what he thought. "Wow, Sierra... you look really pretty." He said this, and he hoped that Sierra Manning would smile. He loved it when she smiled.
Sweetness
Sinking Into Sweet Uncertainty
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GameMaker†
- Posts: 81
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 5:35 am
Sweetness
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The humid Minnesota heat threatened to swallow Sierra whole as she waited under the welcome, though not terribly helpful, awnings of the unassuming café. Her over-eagerness had once again gotten the best of her, practically begging Bubba and Ronald to take her downtown early. It had worked of course, but at the expense of dish-duty (a common adversary in the Manning household) and a lecture about the murky waters of dating by the former.
"Sierra," she had said, "You can't make yourself too available. If there's anything my mother taught me—God rest her soul— it's that women hold the power. Men think with their Bojangles," Bubba was never the one to sugar coat, often using words that could garner her the 'Dirty Old Woman' title, "If you tease them with it and waggle what they want in front of them, not literally though dear—you'll be a virgin on your wedding night, they'll do whatever you say. It's really rather empowering," Ronald hadn't looked very happy about that, though he didn't disagree with it either.
Her grandmother's man-eating ways aside, Sierra couldn't deny that it sounded like good advice. Whether she'd have the confidence to 'waggle what they want in front of them' was another story, however. It wasn't as if she was the Beast from the Black Lagoon, or whatever the saying was, but boys weren't exactly busting down her door to get a moment with her. She had a suspicion it was the lisp, it reminded them of a snake or something and scared them away. Or at least that's what she told herself.
As the heat started to become more and more unbearable (she swore it had spike within the last ten minutes), so did the butterflies currently swarming her innards. Had the abnormally humid Spring weather given her the chance, Sierra was certain she'd be sweating with anticipation—as gross as that sounded. Guys like Omar weren't exactly... the type she usually went for. It's not that he wasn't cute or attractive or anything, he was, but more often than not she found herself falling hard for 'bad boys'. Omar wasn't like that, not one bit.
He reminded her of one of those dogs you always see on the side of the road, the ones that make you want to cry if you think about them too much. Omar was kind of like that. He kept to himself for the most part, but Sierra knew what it felt like to be alone from her tenure in Philadelphia—and it wasn't something she wanted anyone else to feel, which is why it was such a pleasant surprise when Omar Burton had asked her awkward little self out. She wasn't sure WHY he asked her out (who would?), but it made her happy all the same and she had spent the majority of the week planning for the day. And that's how she ended up rocking on the balls of her feet outside a cutesy café waiting for the boy who'd inevitably be her first date... and possibly first kiss if he wasn't too grossed out by her gap.
She wouldn't count her chickens. Or however that went.
Her heart skipped a beat, maybe even two, when she saw Omar rounding the corner, looking as dashing as ever. Her first instinct as he neared closer still was to run up and hug him and maybe even thank him a few times for taking pity on a future spinster like herself and asking her out. But she had to play it cool, right? Don't make yourself too available. That, however, didn't stop an impish grin from curling over her face.
Instead, she gave a quick wave as he greeted her and bashfully pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lower when he complimented her. "Thankth," She said, more aware of her speech impediment than ever, "You look great, too." He smelled good, too. She received a gratuitous nose full of his cologne when he proceeded in front of her to get the door, blasting her with a refreshing dose of air conditioning.
"They're from Minnethota, y'know," Sierra peeped, pointing at Omar's t-shirt.
"Sierra," she had said, "You can't make yourself too available. If there's anything my mother taught me—God rest her soul— it's that women hold the power. Men think with their Bojangles," Bubba was never the one to sugar coat, often using words that could garner her the 'Dirty Old Woman' title, "If you tease them with it and waggle what they want in front of them, not literally though dear—you'll be a virgin on your wedding night, they'll do whatever you say. It's really rather empowering," Ronald hadn't looked very happy about that, though he didn't disagree with it either.
Her grandmother's man-eating ways aside, Sierra couldn't deny that it sounded like good advice. Whether she'd have the confidence to 'waggle what they want in front of them' was another story, however. It wasn't as if she was the Beast from the Black Lagoon, or whatever the saying was, but boys weren't exactly busting down her door to get a moment with her. She had a suspicion it was the lisp, it reminded them of a snake or something and scared them away. Or at least that's what she told herself.
As the heat started to become more and more unbearable (she swore it had spike within the last ten minutes), so did the butterflies currently swarming her innards. Had the abnormally humid Spring weather given her the chance, Sierra was certain she'd be sweating with anticipation—as gross as that sounded. Guys like Omar weren't exactly... the type she usually went for. It's not that he wasn't cute or attractive or anything, he was, but more often than not she found herself falling hard for 'bad boys'. Omar wasn't like that, not one bit.
He reminded her of one of those dogs you always see on the side of the road, the ones that make you want to cry if you think about them too much. Omar was kind of like that. He kept to himself for the most part, but Sierra knew what it felt like to be alone from her tenure in Philadelphia—and it wasn't something she wanted anyone else to feel, which is why it was such a pleasant surprise when Omar Burton had asked her awkward little self out. She wasn't sure WHY he asked her out (who would?), but it made her happy all the same and she had spent the majority of the week planning for the day. And that's how she ended up rocking on the balls of her feet outside a cutesy café waiting for the boy who'd inevitably be her first date... and possibly first kiss if he wasn't too grossed out by her gap.
She wouldn't count her chickens. Or however that went.
Her heart skipped a beat, maybe even two, when she saw Omar rounding the corner, looking as dashing as ever. Her first instinct as he neared closer still was to run up and hug him and maybe even thank him a few times for taking pity on a future spinster like herself and asking her out. But she had to play it cool, right? Don't make yourself too available. That, however, didn't stop an impish grin from curling over her face.
Instead, she gave a quick wave as he greeted her and bashfully pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lower when he complimented her. "Thankth," She said, more aware of her speech impediment than ever, "You look great, too." He smelled good, too. She received a gratuitous nose full of his cologne when he proceeded in front of her to get the door, blasting her with a refreshing dose of air conditioning.
"They're from Minnethota, y'know," Sierra peeped, pointing at Omar's t-shirt.
