Intermission - Fernanda Santos (part 2).

It was infatuation, plain and simple.

After running some errands in town, the delightful smell of coffee drew Fernanda into a shop she hadn’t seen before. She went in and found a seat only to feel her heart nearly stop when she saw him.

Wavy black hair, gray eyes, black glasses that perfectly fit his cute face and a lean, muscular physique noticeable through his shirt. He came to wait at her table and left her speechless. She **** herself to keep her eyes on the menu, but after that she could NOT look away.

He was beautiful, handsome, sexy, cute… Perfect. Fernanda had never fallen for someone so quickly in her life. She managed to overhear that he was a senior in high school, so a year younger than her, two at most. It was a little awkward, but… She couldn’t stop herself. She got to indulge in fantasies for all of ten minutes before everything came crashing down.

Fernanda wasn’t the only one who fell for the hot waiter. Girls from his own school all came to the shop just to ogle him, but worse than that… his friends… They were gorgeous, stunningly sexy, and they seemed very close.

Fernanda never had a shot, and… maybe it was better that way. She didn’t even have her own life together. Having a boyfriend would be a disaster. And yet, even after leaving the shop and through the days that followed, she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

She came back to the coffee shop again and again. She had become a regular to the point he knew what she would order. It was… an escape. A small rest stop from… everything. Just looking at him replaced the anxiety in her chest with butterflies in her stomach, and it was far preferable.

She never thought she would end up working with him. Oliver.

If Fernanda hadn’t been a regular at the shop, if she hadn’t paid an unhealthy amount of attention to him, she wouldn’t have believed what he told her just earlier that day.

Scared shitless of people getting mad. Having recently just learned that people didn’t care about his mistakes.

…

It sounded like bullshit to her. She had heard it all before. Genuine words of advice that rang hollow from the mouth of people who didn’t understand what she was going through.

…

But Oliver understood.

Fernanda watched him in his awkward days of being a waiter. He scowled, he barely spoke, he moved with stiff steps, second-guessed his every action. Some time later he moved with more confidence, made small talk and showed a smile that melted hearts, hers included.

How? How did he manage that? He was getting better at his job in no time. It made her believe it was only initial nerves, that he was always a well of confidence. But then she discovered his music channel.

Fernanda stiffened on her bed and tried to suffocate herself with a pillow on her face, all to forget that embarrassing moment. She overheard his friends talking about his music channel and she immediately looked it up on her phone. She found it, and believing her earphones were on, she played the video. Her earphones weren’t on. The whole shop heard her play the video, Oliver included.

In the following days, she left for Brazil. That was her last appearance there in a while. Not the best last impression, and she still curled up in shame thinking about it.

Back in Brazil, however, she started listening to his music. His covers helped her find new things, but she really liked his originals. She absolutely loved that his cat was always there, sitting by his side when he played.

She saw the progress there, too. He wouldn’t show his face at first. He was stiff, nervous. But video by video, song after song, he became more confident and comfortable.

The guy was a prodigy, a virtuoso. He was 18 years old and played the guitar like a professional. He then picked up the bass and the ocarina like it was nothing. A guy younger than her could do all that, while she…

…

Listening to his music was likely the only thing that kept pushing her to continue her own… creative works, though nothing felt very creative lately. She didn’t feel like drawing, and that was the worst of all. The most she did were very basic exercises, like drawing circles and straight lines of different thickness. It was hard to find the energy and motivation to do it when she felt like she didn’t have the basics of her life figured out. Why spend time drawing when she had to study? Why try to create dumb art when she didn’t even know how to do fucking laundry!?

Oliver inspired and put a damper on her at the same time. A young man who was working hard in a creative area, like her, but also someone with true talent, someone who had the ability and the courage to pursue his goals, unlike her.

For a while she thought he struggled in the same way she did, but soon realized she was wrong. He was nothing like her. He was too good for her, out of her league.

But this last workday… Being with him, following him, listening to his instructions, his advice… It felt so good. He understood. He really, truly understood what her struggles were, almost as if he had felt them himself before. He guided her gently, helped her yet didn’t coddle her. He **** her to do her part, pushed her to do things on her own. She was being helped, yet also treated like an adult.

…

Fernanda couldn’t stop the feelings swelling her chest. She knew she didn’t have a shot. He had girlfriends already, plural. Even if numbers weren’t an issue, there was no way he would pay attention to a screw up like her.

…

Although… appearance-wise, at least… Fernanda did seem to fit his type.

…

Oh, forget it, woman. You have more important things to focus on. High time you stop feeling sorry for yourself and get out there and start gaining control of your own life.

If only it were that easy.

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