I walk by him every now and then outside the bar he works at. He's smoking a cigarette, staring out onto Halstead.
He doesn't notice me as I walk by. I am likely not his type. Still, every time I pass him, I can't help but think how beautiful he is-medium brown hair, red beard, tattoos spotted up his arms, tall, broad shoulders, muscular build.
Today, I was feeling ballsey and said hello.
"Hello there!" He replies.
He smiles casually out the right side of his face. He's amused, adjusting his "I don't give a fuck" attitude that turned me onto him in the first place. So alpha. So blue collar. So New England.
"Where are you off to?" He asks.
"Off to a bar that's not yours, sadly."
He flicks his cigarette.
"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that. Though mine is pretty awesome."
I say something about how his place is a stones throw to work, and that the place I'm going to is in Wicker and close to home. We exchange a few more words.
As I leave he reaches out his calloused hand to shake mine.
"I'm David."
"Jess. Nice to meet you."
I always say that you call tell exactly who a person is the first 30 seconds of looking into there eyes.
I pause to look into his. Sweetness. Rough on the outside but sweet internally sweet. I walk up Halstead swooning. I hope I see him again.
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