I was 22. Slim. 5'8". I had short blonde hair and blue eyes. Throughout the years I had become shy and withdrawn. I managed to get a job bussing tables at a restaurant, which I held for about a year now. Fearing rejection, I kept to myself. I desperately wanted to have friends and be liked, but by this point I had accepted that it was simply beyond my power. I had better just mind my own business and try to ignore other people. This had become difficult over the year. Most of my coworkers gave up trying to talk to me.
Katie, however, was different. She was a 26 year old server; 5'6"; she had auburn hair that she usually tied back in a pony tail. Her eyes were hazel. She always said nice things to me. Sometimes I was civil to her, but I usually ignored her when she addressed me. I look back on things now and see what a silly fool I had made of myself. This became the most obvious to me recently. Stubbornly persistent in seeking my attention despite my disregard, Katie began asking me to hug her. At first I acceded to this and didn't think anything of it. I thought she was playing a joke on me. I then reasoned that a pretty girl would only want to hug me as an attempt at mockery. Based on that theory, the next time she wanted me to hug her I rudely refused and suggested that I was sure she was trying to make a fool of me. She was genuinely hurt by my accusation. I see now that all along she sincerely liked me, despite my unresponsiveness.
I reflected on the situation and tried to think of ways to return her affection. That is what prompted me to write this story. If I were more courageous, I would express my feelings to Katie exactly as I've described here. She is my inspiration. All the details are essentially true. This is the first story I've written, so I'd appreciate any comments. You can contact me via the CONTACT tab on my profile. I will be adding more chapters soon.
*
It was an unusually slow Sunday afternoon. The restaurant was only serving three tables and most of the employees were reduced to standing around, waiting for the day to end. Katie was standing at the side-station, an enclosed alcove where servers refill drinks and tally orders. I saw her from across the floor. She stood there alone, smiling to herself. This was the opportunity I had waited for so long. Conflicting emotions swelled within me as I tried to summon the willpower to simply walk over to her and tell her how I really felt. Intense fear flashed through my mind. If I go through with this, how will things change? Will my words repel her? I was keenly aware that if I revealed myself I was imperiling my relationship with her and many other people (whom she may speak to). I might become an object of ridicule. What I had now was safe! I could go on admiring her from afar and continue suffering in silence. I had never confided in anyone before, which filled me with enormous anxiety. Will I speak to her clearly and loud enough? Will she take me for a fool! Why should she like an inexperienced and timid man like me? Through these sombre thoughts a ray of hope impressed itself on me. If I told her how I felt, she may like me in return. Could I win her heart? Is it possible?
Strengthened by that possibility and rallying my courage, I crossed the floor (with bus-bin in hand) and made my way over to the side-station, entering from the back. Aware of my presence, Katie let out a faint sigh that suggested weariness and boredom. She leaned on her elbows and held her face up with her hands. She was very beautiful, I thought to myself. But I continued to hesitate and maintained my stony demeanor, pretending to take no notice of her. I quickly examined the side-station, making sure everything was stocked like bussers are required to do periodically. But my thoughts were on my real mission. I set the bus-bin down on the floor and faced the girl that I had longed for so much.
Feeling brave, I spoke to her like this:
"Katie, do you have a minute? I want to tell you something important, but I don't want to interrupt you if you're busy."
Registering my words, she turned and faced me. Smiling sweetly, she looked me in the eyes. Very calmly, she asked:
"What do you want to tell me, Anthony?"
Returning her gaze, filled with the assurance that she was willing to hear me out, I said:
"I just wanted to say that I think I've misjudged you. Thank you for being kind to me, even though I've acted like an asshole most of the time. I really think very highly of you, though. I hope you can overlook my rudeness." After a slight pause, I made a courageous request: "May I hug you?"
Katie, her gaze still fixed on me and smiling unabated, replied in a measured voice: "Yes, you may."
Leaning forward, I enclosed her delicate body with both my arms and gave her an affectionate hug. She wrapped her arms around my back and rested her head against my shoulder. She was so calm, so patient, and so gentle. With her in my arms, I felt contented and happy to a degree that I had never known before. When we parted, I was determined to repay her kindness with a compliment:
"I think you're very pretty."
Immediately tears began filling her eyes and she looked away. I felt instinctively alarmed by this and blurted out:
"I hope I didn't frighten you?"
She looked up at me with glistening eyes and rosy cheeks, smiling broadly.
"Anthony," she said, "you are very sweet to tell me that. You are showing me a side of you that I never would have expected. I thought you must hate me. Why have you hidden yourself for so long?"
I felt ready to tell this lovely and compassionate woman the truth.
"Katie," I said, "you are not like other girls. You are so mature and sophisticated that I felt intimidated by your gentle attempts to approach me. I have silently admired you for a very long time, but I was too afraid to even tell you hello at the start of the day. I feel my own awkwardness so deeply and I'm anguished by it." I felt a pang of shame for being so immature and reflexively glanced away.
Katie stepped closer to me and took hold of my hands. Her warm palms sent tingling sensations up my entire arms. Feeling embarrassed by my over-sensitivity to the feel of her tender hands and apprehensive about what would happen next, I shyly looked into Katie's hazel-colored eyes. Peering into my own eyes, she softly asked:
"Anthony, have you ever been in a relationship with a girl before?"
A sense of humiliation enveloped me like an icy gust. Katie was the first girl I had ever felt courageous enough to confide in. Could I admit to her that I had never had a romantic experience in my whole life? Will she think less of me because of that? I felt her hands tighten around mine, gently urging me for the truth. Trusting in her kindness, I replied in this way:
"Katie, I have never even kissed a girl before. How much I would like to, I cannot express strongly enough."
Her grip on my hands loosened. Her smile faltered and she broke her eye contact with me, glancing to the side contemplatively. I was sure I had disappointed her. Now she has fully comprehended what a hapless man I was, so lacking in common life experience. There was nothing valuable to be found here. If you touch a lump of coal you'll only dirty your hands! Bitter feelings began swelling within me. I was to suffer in gloomy silence till the end of my life. It was my destiny to be alone forever. That painful idea impaled me to the depths of my consciousness. Was it true? While I was brooding, Katie had reached her own decision. She released my hands and again looked at me in the face. Her small mouth was curled into a mischievous grin. Playfully, she asked:
"Are you ready for your first kiss, Anthony?"
