TAKING A CHANCE

Learning to pay attention to your “little voice”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Deirdre (D.M.) is an avid reader with an ever-increasing book collection slowly taking over her home. A published author, her works include Living Nightmare, book one of a series called The Other Side of Gifted, as well as a short science fiction story titled “Playing with Dolls.” Deirdre is a twin and one of six siblings; when she’s not writing, she enjoys playing games with her family and friends. Visit her website at www.dmdore.com.

Whatever you do, don’t look up. The words were weighted in caution. It was good advice. I should listen to it. My gaze lifted.

Hey, the voice in my head shouted.

What did I just say? What’s the point of having a subconscious if you’re not going to listen to me?

My shoulders slumped as I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, eyes on the guy sitting at the table across from mine in the busy coffee shop. The hiss of steam and scent of fresh pastries permeated the wide-open space. Not fair, I told the voice, I can’t control where my gaze goes all the time. It has a mind of its own.

Pfft. Come on. Seriously? That’s what you’re going with? At least have the guts to admit to yourself you like him.

I looked at my hands that were shredding a napkin into tiny pieces. Flakes of sugar from my doughnut coated my fingers with its sticky substance. Another peek at the dark-haired guy sent nerves to twist my stomach. I licked the sugar off my thumb with a sigh.

It wasn’t the first time I had seen him in the coee shop. He was a regular fixture on Saturday mornings, always reading a book while sipping a cup of coffee. Always unaware of everything around him. A baby once threw her mom’s iced cap on the floor, and nothing. Not even a flinch. He turned a page and kept reading. I tried to see what the book was, what held him so captivated, but he had the cover bent backwards so I couldn’t make out the title. Must have been some story, not to hear the wail of distress the baby let out when the mom cursed.

I chanced another glance in his direction. He turned towards me. My heart stalled. Damn. Pretending to drop something, I

leaned down and picked up someone’s used tissue. Well that was gross, I thought and wiped my hand on my jeans. Real smooth move there. I rolled my eyes, then checked to make sure his attention was where it should be, on the book and not me.

Stop being creepy and staring at the poor guy like he’s the last piece of chocolate fudge cake.

My face warmed. Stupid voice in my head. My own voice, and that made it more pathetic.

Shut up. I scowled at the table.

Talk to him and I will.

Snakes of unease slithered in the pit of my stomach. Talk to him? I pressed a hand against the anxious rumble. Me?

Yes. I swear the voice let out a sigh of exasperation. Be like a normal person and talk to the boy you like. That’s what people do.

That was crazy talk. I studied him behind the safety of my bangs. He flipped a page. A sudden grin spread across his face, making the dimple on his left cheek pop out. What could I possibly say to him? My mouth dried at the thought of forming words while he looked at me expectantly.

Nope. I brushed the napkin debris into a pile. Not going to happen.

Ridiculous. He’s just a boy.

Better than making a fool of myself. I should go. That was the best thing for me to do. Leave before—oh crap. He’s looking at me. Thump. Thump. My heart rocked against its cage of bones. Look away, I told myself. Pretend you don’t see him. I tried to will my gaze to drop but his eyes had locked on mine, and he was holding them hostage.

What do I do? I swallowed a lump of panic but it lodged itself in my throat.

Oh man. He’s smiling. At me. Do I smile back? My mouth quivered, trying to lift upwards but my lips weren’t cooperating. Great. I probably look insane.

Will you relax?

Sweat beaded my upper lip. What’s he doing? I watched with growing horror as he closed his book and stood.

Why’s he standing? No. Look away. Just look—he’s walking towards me. Anxiety flipped my insides upside down. The urge to bolt for the door was strong but my legs had gone numb. My butt was glued to the chair. He was getting closer.

Relax. You’re looking like a rabid dog.

What should I do, I pleaded and rolled my shoulders forward… like it would make me invisible.

Be normal.

I don’t know normal!

Oops, too late.

“Hi.” He cupped the back of the chair in front of me with one hand. His other hand clutched his book. I blinked at him. I should do something, right? Say something. My mouth opened, then closed.

Anytime would be good.

I let out a shaky breath. I can do this. He’s just a guy. Be brave.

I swallowed. “Um, hello.”

See. Hard part’s over.