I’m confident that this story isn’t 100% sex. I’m going to try an approach where a slow, realistic romance brews between two of the main characters. So, if you’re looking for a quick sex story, this one is not the way to go. I’ll tell you this, however: lengthy sexual scenes will be spread out. Also, this story takes place from third person point of view, and first person point of view from both the characters’ perspective. Ahem, now, to begin!
A yawn released itself from a certain teen’s lips as the owner groggily pushed herself upright. She lazily glimpsed to where a clock sat, and then, her once lifeless eyes that were half lidded shot open with surprise.
“Damn!” she cussed, scrambling out of the bed.
Every physical aspect about the girl screamed grace and beauty. Standing at 5”6 feet tall, weighing only a light 116 pounds, and gifted with modest sized breasts, she was what men chased after and what women strived to be. Despite the touches of Asian features that traced the girl’s flawless face, her dazzling hazel eyes told anybody who saw her that she wasn’t a true Asian descendent. They burst with a bright green hue and had tints of temperate brown. Her wavy locks of brunette hair also spurred the evidence that this girl had inherited the genes from a white parent.
As she hastily stripped herself of her pajamas, the girl tripped over a basket piled with clothing. As most would say: appearances deceived. Elegance was the complete opposite of this rather clumsy girl, and yet, suit her personality it did.
After a brief session of washing up and changing into a warm outfit, the girl was off. She stuffed an iPhone 5 into the pocket of her skinny jeans, loosely wrapped a pink scarf around her neck, and, without delay, pinned a nametag to the front of her sweater.
Before leaving her bedroom, she quickly scanned herself in the mirror. In big, brass letters, her name, 'Ivy T.' was marked across the bright tag. A moment of thought appeared, and then Ivy was rushing to her drawer to search for a brush to comb her hair.
Once she was hurrying down the steps of her staircase, Ivy decided to treat herself to an on-the-go breakfast before departing to her job at the local café. She immediately hustled into the kitchen to be met with the sight of her mother preparing rice and her dad seated at the table, sipping coffee. Her Chinese mother had sleek black hair and slanted eyes, while her white father had warm green eyes and a shaved head. Stubs of brown and gray hair were noticeable though, and Ivy took note of that as she reached over her dad to snatch a piece of toast.
“You’re getting old, daddy,” she giggled, running her hand across his rough head and spinning to exit the kitchen.
“Wait one minute, young lady,” her mother called out, much to Ivy’s distress. “Toast is not going to get you through the day! Come sit down and have some rice before you go!”
Ivy let out an exaggerated sigh, having had expected the reaction from her mother. She glanced at the kitchen clock, her alarm fueled when she saw that the hour hand was close to striking to the 9.
“I’ll eat during my lunch break!” Ivy defended, pivoting on her heels to escape her mom.
While pulling on her boots, she overheard her dad’s chuckle and her mom’s complaint about her always trying to starve herself.
“Lunch break!” Ivy yelled behind her back as she slammed the front door.
It was like any other morning for Danny as he dodged past people and raced across the street.
He had just moved in from Canada and into the bustling city of San Francisco. It was unlike what he had seen in those American movies with the heated beaches and the endless palm trees. Upon arriving to San Francisco, he only saw a polluted sea and an ocean of buildings rather than trees.
Nevertheless, he was still enthusiastic to have the opportunity to attend University of SF, and to have been able to afford his own apartment; with the immense help from his parents who sent daily allowance through mail.
Just two months ago, when he stepped off the plane, he became an independent young man who had to survive the merciless world as an adult. And San Francisco was a great place to start off, as there were many opportunities for part time jobs and available apartments.
Another handful of minutes of thorough jogging passed by and Danny then was doubled over, his hands clasped on his knees and his chest heaving. The cold air prevented him from sweating buckets, so he could only run a hand across his moist scalp and through his hair.
Fogged films escaped from Danny, who was gasping to regain his breath. He regretted not bringing along a bottled drink, as his throat became drier and drier within each breath he took. When he was up and standing, a coffee shop caught his attention.
Might as well, he thought to himself, remembering that he had a couple of bucks to spare in his pocket.
Entering the building, Danny pulled out the plugs from his ears and paused his iPod. Standing at six feet, he realized that the line consisted of only people that ranged in the 5 to 5”5 feet range. It was, in other words, awkward as he took his place in line. He stood out like a sore thumb, so he tried to save himself from the awkwardness by staring at the texts of the menu. Not too long after, the front of the shop rang with a ding and a gust of December’s chilliness rushed in. The clerk that stood behind the counter immediately gushed with rage.
“Where were you!” the man scolded, abandoning his spot to approach the girl who had just stumbled inside.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” the girl sheepishly apologized, her hair mussed, along with uncountable strands poking out.
“Never mind, never mind!” the worker exclaimed, urging the girl behind the counter. “Just get straight to work! I need to tend to the lattes!”
“Y-yes!” the girl complied, quickly patting down her hair before turning to face the next customer in line.
From where Danny stood, he could see that the girl was a real eye candy. But he stopped himself from checking the girl out any further, being the devoted Christian he was and the well raised man he had grown up to be.
I bit on my tongue, feeling a wave of shame wash over me. The tips of my ears were hot and numb—and not from the cold, but rather, from the embarrassment I felt when my manager scolded me in front of the line of people. I absent-mindedly took the customers’ orders, masking a bright smile. It diminished when a tall man stepped up. It took, nearly, all my willpower not to let my jaw drop to the ground. He was so god damn gorgeous.
The long-sleeved shirt he wore stretched across his upper body beautifully, and his muscled arms showed well from under the woolly material. His light brown hair was cut and trimmed to perfection; short and prepped. Judging from the earphones slung across his broad shoulders and the meager amount of sweat that glistened across his forehead, I could tell that he had just come in from jogging.
I was at loss for words as the man’s piercing blue eyes bore into mine. He then blinked and cleared his throat uncomfortably, breaking me from my trance.
“S-sorry,” I stuttered, directing my attention to the cash register. “May I take your order?”
My eyes darted up to meet his gaze. The man revealed a sincere smile.
“Can I just have milk and err..” he trailed off. He stared upwards, his lips parted as he hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, and a double fudge cookie.”
I chewed on my lip, dialing in the buttons on the machinery to save his orders. Honestly, I was surprised by the preference of his drink and snack. The man appeared to be around the age of his early twenties, and yet, he was purchasing a meal children would eat.
Well, Ivy, you lunch on juice and bags of gummies, I silently reminded myself, finding it wrong that I was judging this man when I had it worse than him.
As he fumbled to count bills to pay for his order, I pursued to study the man’s aspects. He had sun-touched skin, though he wasn’t too tan, and a virtuous air emitted from him. Almost as if though he radiated justice and wouldn’t harm a fly.
Throughout my entire life, I rarely ever felt any sparks of interest in men. All the ones I had dated turned out to either be after my body, or just weren’t my type.
However, this man just made me want to throw myself at him like a shameless schoolgirl.
“Thank you!” I chirped a little too happily as he handed me the money.
“Go ahead and keep the change,” he pleasantly presented, another one of his cute smiles following the statement.
Because his order wasn’t too big, I maneuvered to retrieve his drink and snack. I took my sweet time, not wanting the man to leave so soon. It was impossible to perform slowly, though, because the man’s order consisted of only milk and a cookie I could easily snatch from the dessert counter.
Much to my relief, after I handed him his order, he retreated to one of the tables that were situated in the corner of the shop. He occupied a lone seat and made himself comfortable as he fit one of his earphones into his ear. A lazy smile touched his lips as he withdrew the fudge cookie from the bag.
I could’ve, and would’ve, continued to watch the man, finding every little action he did to be alluring. But unfortunately, the next customer seemed to be in a hurry, rudely throwing her orders at me. I accidentally responded with a glare, annoyed with the woman. Then, I immediately caught myself and replaced the glare with a false smile.
“Fourteen dollars and twenty-five cents,” I cited, punching in the last of her demands into the cash register.
The chunks of chocolate chips melted in between my thumb and forefinger as I watched the girl attend to her customers. I had been staring for so long, I noticed that her face seemed weary from all the smiles she sported. My mug of milk had been long gone drained of its contents, and cookie crumbs had been showered over the table I sat at. Finally, when I decided that I was being a stalker for watching the clerk tend her tasks, I got up from my seat.
Like I always do in most of the food stores I visit, I attempted to clean the table as best as I could. It didn’t take a lot of effort, since there were only crumbs to worry about.
When I was done, I headed over to the front of the store to recycle the paper bag and set the mug on the bin’s countertop. As I turned to leave, I felt an odd sensation hold me back. I had no clue on what the feeling was, but as I stuffed my hands into my shorts’ pockets, I told myself that it was the money that was weighing me.
I briskly went over to the counter while pulling out the fistful of dollars from my pocket. I deposited it into the tips jar, and while I did, the girl diverted her attention from her customer to me. She smiled appreciatively.
And for some strange reason, as I smiled back at her, I felt as if though the money wasn’t the sole reason that was holding me back.