I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.
I've had a long standing love of Irish lasses. Their eyes, complexion, smiles have always warmed my heart, and a few have broken it.
Constructive criticism as always is welcome in the comments.
***
I'd been coming to this little hole-in-the wall tea shop for the past year. I can thank my buddy Dee for that. She got me hooked on tea in our senior year. She often professed her addiction for the heady aromas and exotic flavors, and referred to my usual beverage of drive-thru coffee, as poorly brewed sludge. While I waited for my tea to brew I turned and glanced out the window of the shop. A few tables were lined up alongside the building in the shade of the trees along the street. Time seemed to slow to a stop.
She craned her neck, lifting her dark hair upward combing her fingers through it separating the dark strands and letting it fall. After a few moments of this she gathered it and pinned it with a small clip and arched her neck running her slender fingers down the long smooth nape. A wisp of hair escaped the clip and curled gently at her temple. She swooped it back gracefully behind her ear.
"Here you go," the guy said again louder breaking me out of my trance.
"Oh, thanks." I took my iced house blend popped the straw into it and took a sip. I watched her as I slowly made my way to the front of the shop nearly bumping into another lady as she came in. I hastily apologized. I found myself walking around the corner of the building. I glanced at her again trying not to look conspicuous. I failed completely.
"It's rude to stare." She said without looking up from her book. I choked on my drink and after a coughing fit looked up to see the most striking blue eyes looking back at mine.
"I.. I'm sorry," I stuttered, "it's just that you look hot." Embarrassed, I looked down.
"It is rather warm today, but then I guess it would be in July." Her words poured forth like liquid, her accent soft and musical.
I looked up slightly startled and after a moment she realized that I wasn't referring to the weather. She must have sensed my confusion because her expression changed quickly, a flush brightened her cheeks. She looked down at the book she'd laid in her lap with the slightest smirk.
"Oh, I guess I should say thank you in that case." The smirk blossomed into a dazzling smile. She looked down at her book again, the smile staying with her. I just stood there dumbfounded for what seemed like an eternity.
"You're still staring." She said in a sing-song fashion. It was my turn to flush and I felt the heat in my cheeks.
"Sorry," I added with a chuckle, "it's not often I'm dumb-struck by a beautiful woman. Your accent, is it English?" She looked up mildly offended.
"Careful," the 'r' held just a split second longer than necessary, "that could get you a punch in the nose where I come from."
"So not England, definitely not Scotland, and with that response I find myself apologizing profusely to a fair Irish lass." I replied in a bad assumption of an Irish accent.
Her eyes thinned to slits as her smile spread across her face again. "Not bad, but don't roll your 'r's it makes you sound more like a Scot. Say it from the back of your throat," she touched her fingers to hers, "not from the tip of your tongue. Fair?"
"Fair is far to simple a compliment for a lovely dark haired lady such as yourself."
Her blush rose again, "Very good. You're a quick learner..."
"Dylan."
"Ah and that may be why. Will you be Irish yourself then?" She asked. Her accent seemed to deepen and I wasn't sure if she was putting me on or not.
It was my turn to smile. "Probably, my family came down from Canada generations ago. What about you?"
"I'm straight off the boat here in the New World."
I looked wide-eyed at her, "boat?" She rolled her eyes at me.
"Well a plane actually. We did pass near Ellis Island so I should be set." She paused as if deciding whether or not to continue. "I arrived a few weeks ago. I figured I'd get accustomed to the place before classes start. You know, find my way around."
I smiled broadly. "You're here for school? Well then I hope to see even more of you, that's why I'm here."
"It must be fate then Dylan." She added, with a coy little grin.
"Ah..."
"Cate."
"Cate, as in Catherine?"
"Cate as in Catelyn." She replied.
"That's a lovely name." Her eyes rolled gently upward and I felt I was slipping and decided to quit while I was ahead. "As much as I would love to stay and chat for hours, days even, I must be going, and that makes me heavy hearted because I fear I will never see you again."
"I don't know about that. If it's fate that's brought us together, then it's likely to do so again. If it's meant to be." It wasn't a question but a statement of fact, and I loved how she'd put it.
"I can only hope that's so Cate. Until we meet again." I gave her a nod and turned to walk away. I looked back over my shoulder at her. She had settled back in her chair, arms crossed, her long legs crossed at the knee. The short sundress giving me a good view of them. I looked back up and realized her gaze was riveted on me as well and didn't waiver. They wisp of hair brushed her cheek again. I gave her a little smile and walked away. I'd walked nearly two blocks before I realized that I'd driven to the tea shop, and left my car behind. I busted out laughing and turned around and went back for it.
I found myself visiting the tea shop often over the next few weeks in hopes of seeing Cate there again, and finagling my way into a date, unfortunately I never did. Fate is a cruel mistress sometimes. I stopped staring wistfully out the office window and prepared my exit from my summer internship. Working towards my masters degree was going to be daunting. Those who were in the program said that it was less grueling than the undergrad program since it was more focused on practical application and less on theory. I was surprisingly anxious to get back into class, get my degree done with and start job applications out west.
A few days before my first class was to start I stopped by the tea house more time in a final, unsuccessful attempt to find Cate. Fate I thought, what an odd concept.
The first day of classes had arrived and I'd sat through my first class, picked up the syllabus and talked with a few classmates I remembered from other courses. I found my next class, Introduction to Server Security and Applications, and took a seat. I was a bit early and opened up my laptop and began surfing. People started filing in, taking seats around me, chatting away excitedly with one another. I didn't look up until the professor flipped on the projector and said hello. When I did my jaw dropped. Standing at the front of the class behind the podium was Cate. She looked as beautiful as the first time I saw her. Her hair was down brushing past her shoulders in soft waves. Her bright blue eyes exaggerated by the muted colors of her gray jacket.
"Okay, if you could take your seats we'll get started." She began with her résumé, a doctoral candidate in IT security, she spent two years working to develop mobile security platforms for a European cellular provider, and now was adjunct professor in IT security. She clicked over to a new slide on the screen with the class goals, then the syllabus. "I do have printed copies for those of you still working in the dark ages, for the rest of you it's on the course website." She said with that broad grin she gave me a few weeks ago. I took a moment to look around at the nearly all male class and saw rapt attention on every face I could see. I could tell right now that this class would have very few absences. After a short question and answer period one brave soul asked her for her phone number. "You'll find it in the syllabus along with my email and office hours. Please keep it to office hours, and class related subjects gentlemen." She put a slight emphasis on gentlemen, with a smile. After class the hall emptied slowly, which surprised me since most students are looking to make a break for it as soon as the lecture is over. Many went down to front to pick up a printed syllabus even though I was sure not a one of them would be referenced. A few even introduced themselves personally in a ploy to get a close up look at the beautiful Professor Murray. I let the crowd thin before I made my way down to the front.
"Professor Murray, I'm not sure if you remember me but we've met before."
"Dylan," she said grinning broadly, "it's wonderful to see you again." She remembered alright, which made me smile too. "Have you been practicing your accent then?" Her own accent broadened. "If you ever find yourself in Dublin town, with a name like Dylan Butler, people would easily think you're a native." She added with a wink.
"I don't know if I could handle the singing and dancing, but I could definitely drink a pint or two." I responded in fair imitation.
"Very good, but despite what your stereotypes might include, it's not all songs, jigs and stouts." She laughed. "Though having a pint or two is common enough."
