He slipped out for lunch before Olivia could see him and stop him; she'd rather keep Melvin in his office doing nothing than allowing him to escape an hour for some fresh air. She enjoyed her small tortures. Avoiding her was a kind of art he'd developed over the past few months, and Melvin considered himself something in the league of a Picasso in the department.
He mentally thanked God that the woman from earlier was not in the elevator as he rode it down. All he wanted was a nice and quiet lunch where he could sort things out. The images from his dream were growing stronger and stronger in his head, and Melvin had trouble separating reality from fiction.
Melvin drove to the cafe and found an empty table outside where he knew Courtney, his so-cute-it-hurt redheaded waitress, would be working. He'd learned her name from the tag hanging precariously just above her right breast, pinned to the front of her green apron, but he hadn't yet gathered the courage to call her by it.
He sat down, leaned back in the metal chair and let the sunlight fall on his face, its brightness warm and comfortable. He closed his eyes and let his mind empty, thoughts leaking out of his ears not unlike the blood that had leaked after he'd busted his ear drums at the only rock concert he'd ever attended. The thought was yet another reminder of his pathetic nature; he shuddered thinking about it.
"Hi, Mr. MacMuffin. Am I disturbing you?" he heard Courtney ask through his shut eye lids. His eyes fluttered open, and he took her in: smiling, dimples at the corners of her mouth, her teeth a spread of white pearls, her hazel eyes glittering in the sunlight, adorable freckles peppering her nose and cheeks.
The sound of her lovely voice saying his ridiculously absurd last name sent a sick chill slivering down his spine; it seemed Fate enjoyed its small tortures as well.
"No, no. Not at all," he said and returned her smile. As he had basked in the warm sun, he now basked in Courtney's presence.
"You want the usual?" she asked him. A pencil jutted up from behind her ear. She swiped her bangs off her forehead with the flick of her wrist, but they fell back over her eyes just as quickly. She was so cute, so sweet, that Melvin wanted to lather her in whipped cream and eat her all up. Screw the usual; give him a heaping plate of warm Courtney, and he'd sink his teeth right in.
"Yes, the usual," he told her, brushing away his thoughts of sexual cannibalism.
"Consider it done," she said, winked, and scurried away, her legs striding beneath her green apron. He watched her for a moment and then turned, in case anyone caught him staring. He sighed. If only a girl like that could ever be interested in a guy like him.