Iwas exuding the most confidence after that last game. I guess anyone could tell from a mile away as I walked down the street. I was proud of my mental victory as I won my first checkmate. So I stepped outside proud of my intellect and other goals I’ve completed all before turning thirty. I still look like I’m 15 and am embarrassed by the fact that I’m still like a girl in some ways.
My father noticed my hair is as long as it has ever been before. It’s reaching down the end of my waist bending in waves that make me feel the prettiest since I was a teen. I wore my favorite cropped knit cardigan since it’s warm but cool enough to wear something light over your shoulders. The day felt nice. It was a nice sunny day.
I was enjoying the rays of the sun and the light breeze as I planned to make my way to the music store. I had no expectations in mind for that day and neither did he when he rode past as the rumble of his motorcycle announced his presence.
He turned his head as he rode down the street passing me on his motorcycle. I wonder what happened to his head that made him look back.
He came back up the street then back down again. The fourth time he waited for me at the end of the street as I could only naturally walk up to him because I already knew where I was going.
“Hey girl, come here.”
I looked twice over my surroundings as if just to wonder, “Could this man be a serial killer?”
I stepped twice closer.
Then he motioned with his hand to come even closer to the corner of the street where his motorcycle intersected the two roads near the sidewalk.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he said.
“Thanks”
“What are you doing later?”
“Going to the music store.”
“Wanna hang out?”
“Maybe, I think I might be busy.”
“Can I have your number?”
I gave him my phone to add his number to my contacts instead.
What if he was weird? haha
…
Jay.
Jay was his name.
Like the Jaybird.
He rides free as a bird.
On his motorcycle.
With a mysterious bomber jacket and a warm fuzzy collar.
A full black beard without a trace of grey.
He’s still young — no trace of salt in his black peppered beard.
With crystal blue eyes
And a flirty smile.
I wonder where he goes free as a bird on his motorcycle…
Probably collecting other chick’s numbers.
…
Could he have been from the military? He didn’t look a day under 40. What was his story? What was the mystery? Did he notice the confidence the day after my chess victory? If only he knew where I come from and where I am going. I write. Photograph. Sing and play multiple musical instruments. Should I have texted him? He never texted me back after that first hello. Should I pursue him?
No, we don’t chase. We only attract.
I never heard from him again after that day.
I still enjoyed the compliment.
Like any girl would, lol.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Jon Grogan on Unsplash
