Art Girl- Baby (Baby Driver)

Baby's P.O.V

She sat at the soda bar, drawing away in her sketchbook, pencil flying over the paper. She had earbuds that were connected to her phone that laid flat on the bar top. I looked at her face, taking in the curve of her nose, her eyelashes, the shape of her jaw. She furrowed her eyebrows and vigorously erased something on her paper.

Her hair was hazelnut coloured and cut to her jaw, hastily pinned half up with a clip. I still couldn't make out the colour of her eyes. She had a small frame, but she was curvy. She wore a floral printed, tight-fitting shirt with black skinny jeans and a pair of black flats. A leather jacket laid draped over her waist.

I sat there, my headphones in my ear and music coming through one of the many iPods that I owned. I watched her, the way her hand glided over the paper, the way she would furrow her eyebrows when she made a mistake. She was beautiful.

I got out of the booth that I was sitting in and slowly walked over to the bar. I took the seat next to her, she didn't notice me sit down. I looked over to see what she was drawing, it was a beautiful island landscape. The waitress came over to the bar and stopped in front of me.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, loudly chewing gum.

"Uh, yeah. Coffee, please," I asked her. She nodded and left to get it. She came back, giving me a quizzical look and set the cup down. I muttered a 'thank you' to her and took a sip of the black coffee. That's when she noticed me.

She must have seen my hand reaching for my coffee cup, because she followed the cup to my lips and quickly turned her face away, her short dark hair swinging as much as the shortness of it would allow it.

That's when I realized the colour of her eyes. They were green. I smiled to myself, taking her in. She was breathtaking.

I leaned a little closer to her. "That's beautiful," I said, "did you used to live there?"

"No, but I used to live in California, the beach cities. I don't know where this is at. But I want to go there. I miss the beach," she said. Her voice was soft, sweet, and gentle. She had a calming air to her. Her voice sounded like she could calm any storm, whether it be a physical one or one that raged in the hearts and minds of the most battered souls.

"So is this what you do then? Are you an artist?" I asked her. She nodded, not saying anything. She set her sketchbook down and turned to look at me.

"So what do you do?" She asked me, putting her elbow on the bar and using her hand to prop her head up. I took the earbuds out of my ear, setting the iPod and earbuds on the bar.

"I'm a driver," I said. I didn't go into specific details. I didn't need to. Or want to. And even if I did, I couldn't.

"That's cool," she said, "so the music...Why do you listen to it?"

"Oh," I said, feeling my face flush. "I have tinnitus. I got it when I was a kid. The music drowns out some of the ringing." I explained and then looked at her phone. "What about you?"

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I have depression. I got it when I was a young teenager. The music drowns out some of the thoughts and feelings," she said it the same way I explained my reasoning. This made me smile. "Sorry, too much?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No, not at all." She gave a small smile and moved her am so it laid flat. That's when I noticed the scars that crisscrossed and scattered over it. I didn't say anything, I didn't want to embarrass her like that. But seeing those scars made me want to hold her and kiss them. I wanted to stitch the broken pieces back together, to hug her so tight that she would glue back together, never to fall apart again.

I looked at her, lost in my thoughts. The things I would do to make that girl feel special ran through my head, and trust me, there were a lot of things. I must have zoned out for too long while looking at her, cause she snapped her fingers in front of my face.

"Hello? You good?" She asked, giggling slightly. I shook my head, dismissing any thoughts that I had of her. There was no way any of that would happen.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry. I just like looking at beautiful people," I replied in an attempt to play it off.

"So what's your name?" She turned to face me as she asked, crossing her right leg over the left one.

"Baby," I told her, leaving it at that. Her eyebrows furrowed in like she didn't believe me. I laughed a bit, her facial expressions we're just so cute.

"Your name is Baby? Like B-A-B-Y, Baby? Like babydoll? Or Baby from Dirty Dancing?" Her comparisons to my name made me laugh harder, and the way she said it, her Hispanic accent mixing with a Southern one.

I nodded. "Yeah, like babydoll, or baby from Dirty Dancing. Now you know my name, what's yours?"

"Lyric," was all she said. I laughed, I was going to imitate her the way she did to me earlier.

"Your name is Lyric? Like L-Y-R-I-C? Like song Lyrics?" I couldn't keep a straight face while teasing her, and it was obvious that she couldn't keep one either.

"Yeah, the one and only," she giggled more. The sound if her laugh soothed everything inside me. Sitting there talking with her, laughing with her, made me forget about the terrible job I have, and the terrible things I do.

"Well, I've got to head home. Would you like to join me? I know we just met but I promise I'm not an axe murderer," I offered to her. I didn't want to see her go, not did I want to leave her.

"Even if you were, I'd probably still go with you. You're quite attractive and make me feel safe," she said, standing up and grabbing her jacket and sketchbook. I smiled and stood up as well, watching as she slipped her arms into the leather jacket, and watching the scars on her arm until they disappeared under the leather.

She took her phone and headphones into her pocket and held her sketchbook close to her chest.

"Well let's go," I said, leading her out of the diner. She followed me to my vehicle and got in the passenger side. She absentmindedly fiddled with aux chord until I said, "you can plug in your phone if you want." Then she let out a small squeal and plugged her phone before playing some of her music.

I drove and she sang. And it was amazing. And then we got to my building, and I brought her up to my apartment.

"This is Joe, he's my foster dad," I said to her before signing to him, explaining that I just met her. She stepped next to me before signing 'nice to meet you'. Joe smiled widely, his eyes lighting up, and I turned to look at her.

"I never would have thought you could do that," I said. She laughed.

"Well then Baby, there's a lot you don't know about me," She smirked after the words left her mouth, standing there with her weight leaning on one leg and her arms folded over her chest.

I stepped closer to her, placing my hands on her elbows.  "Well," I said, leaning my face in closer to her, "then let me know those things about you. Everything about you."

She shook her head, taking a step back from my touch. "I don't think you want to," she mumbled, before walking away and sitting on the couch.

"Yes, I do. Tonight. We'll sit on the balcony or my room or the roof even and just sit there together and talk. I want to know you," I said, sitting next to her.

I looked up to see Joe smiling and nodding slightly before he signed 'good job my boy'. That made Lyric laugh and she signed to him 'do you think I should let him know me?' Joe looked at her then at me and signed 'of course. What could it hurt?'. Lyric sighed and then giggled. "Fine," she said, "but it's going to take some coffee or tea, fuzzy blankets, and probably an all-nighter."

I laughed. "I can make that happen."

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