Random thought on a random day: People ought to come with a thirty-second trailer, especially when it comes to relationships.
My name is Mishy, but not like Mitchelle or Michigan, Mishy like Malaika. Weird, right?
Malaika is a Swahili name for Angel. Most of the time people tend to tell me I am a good person, and when I do one wrong thing, they go, "I thought you were a good person." Dude, just because of my name? Like, have you ever heard of Lilith? She was an actual angel. Do you know where she is right now? Hell.
Malaika is more of a Gothic girl. Her color is black, and her style is cargos, boots, and mesh tops. Complexion: Dark with neatly arranged ginger locks. A perfect body shape, neither petite nor fat. Her body piercings: two nose piercings, one tongue piercing, and four ear piercings. She was talkative as well; I bet that's why she went to law school. I mean, isn't that why most people assume lawyers go to school? Because they're talkative.
Warm, soft yellow lights, a large bar stretching across one wall. Colorful bottle glittering in the light. Young professionals and friends chatting over drinks. Clinking of glasses, slow jazz in the background and swishing barstools. Roasted aroma of crafted beers, fruity sweetness of mixed cocktails. A hint of cigarette smoke and a mingling of perfumes and sweat. In a brown, short cargo skirt, a black mesh top that reveals her black bra, and black boots. Mishy walks into the pub . Straight to the counter, there's the male attendant. He's busy shaking the bottles, probably mixing. When he sees her approaching, his face brightens up with a smile. Placing the mixed drink on the counter, he walks to the center of the counter area.
How's my favorite, most handsome barista faring tonight? Reaching for the high, navy blue bar stool. I guess even better now that I have seen you,' he replies, leaning in to her. His eyes are glued onto her body that is being revealed by the mesh top she's wearing. Gently placing his arm right below his chin, 'The usual?' he inquires. Leaning in as well, with minimal room for them to breathe properly, 'The usual,' in a low, calm, relaxing, yet seductive voice, she replies. Realizing where his eyes are, she drops her eyes to her cleavage, then back to his eyes, then to his mouth, and back to his eyes. Tilts her face slightly, smiles, and then raises her eyebrows as if trying to ask, "What are you looking at?" Amidst her gaze, his heart speeds up; he could literally hear the organ overworking. The veins on the face began to be visible. Swallowing saliva loudly like he was just imagining himself devouring her. 'O-o-OK,' he breathes out loudly and unevenly. He turns to prepare her drink, sliding his palms through the white apron he is wearing, probably because he became sweaty due to the tension that had been built up seconds ago.
Nodding her head slowly, '…. Don't you see I'm in love with you, and if you don't believe I do, then why don't you try me…?' She vibes with the slow jam at the bar. He immediately turns to her. "… I will never let you down; I will make you wear no frown…" he sings along, handing her the glass.
'Go screw the driver,' he says. The other customers quickly turn their necks, almost breaking them, raising eyebrows and opening mouths wide. One not so tall, heavily built, bearded man approaches her immediately. Rotating his glass, he began, "You see, I drove here alone. Can I drive you back so you can screw me?" in a Russian accent.
'Take a step away from my woman,' Filly ordered from the other side of the counter. The barista's name is Filly. Tall and dark. His muscles suggest that he never misses out on his gym days. I don't want to get started on the biceps hidden under those clothes. His broad chest is probably every woman's dream to rest on as his big hands give you a pleasurable massage as you rest after a long, tiresome day.
'My bad.' The Russian lifts his arms and walks back in reverse to his seat.
'Your woman, tell me more….' Before she could finish, '…. A simple thank you would do,' he interjected.
'Yooo,' she exclaims. Don't tell me you've got a secret crush on me?' Giving her his back, 'You wish,' he says as he keeps wiping the glasses.
'It's not bad; I am beautiful... "Can we talk about something else?"—turning to her—"like why are you so jovial and jumpy tonight?"
Sipping her drink as she lowers her head while raising her eyebrows, 'Mmmm, changing the subject now? smilingly
If I agree with you, will you stop bagging on me? He inquires. 'Mmm,' she says as she nods her head in agreement. 'Yes,' he says and immediately avoids her eyes. 'No, no, look me in the eyes and say yes, you do,' she commands. His eyes were all over the place. Looking at everything yet seeing nothing. Suddenly there was loud silence between them, just the slow music. It seemed like it was just the two of them; everyone else was nonexistent. Just them about to hold hands and start dancing in one of those royal balls like the royalties they were. It felt like one of those unrequited romance movies when the man proposes to the woman, down on his knees, and the woman is saying nothing, and the whole world is watching, waiting to make fun at any time. That mood was the moment and iconic. Full of mixed emotions
Snapping his fingers at her face, "Yes, I was just changing the topic," he broke the silence.
'Exhaling out loudly out of relief, "Phew, you had me peeing in my pants," she said, taking a sip and focusing on her phone. With a shaky smile, he rubbed the back of his neck vigorously. Biting his inner lip, he looked at her with damp eyes as if he were lost in thoughts. Then he began to bite his thumb's nail.
'Hello,' busy biting his nail, he heard not a single word.
Hello,' they repeated themselves. A loud bang and soft landing on the wooden counter brought him back to reality. 'Darling, what is wrong? You have a client,' Mishy said and kept on scrolling. 'I am sorry,' he whispered almost inaudibly. 'What is your order again? Kindly he inquired. 'One glass of margarita and two glasses of volcanoes,' said the lady while sizing him. What is your table number? Filly asked. '15,' she answered, walking away.
'I never knew people working in clubs and bars can be lost in thoughts,' said the lady once she got to her table, where two other women awaited her calmly. 'Mhh,' scoffed one of them. 'They are humans just like us,' said the other one.
'What just happened there? You were spaced out?' Mishy showed some concern. 'Nothing,' he said plainly and kept on mixing the orders.