Playing with the Omniscient POV

15 11 2003

Kyle walked up Queen Anne Avenue toward Pasta Bella to meet with the representative from Starbucks, Inc. Landing the contract for Starbucks’ new advertising campaign had sent shock waves of excitement through his fledgeling company’s ranks. Biggest deal they’d ever won. But Kyle couldn’t shake his irritation with his boss, Sam. He always wriggles out of these meetings with underlings. So, I get to shuffle papers with some guy named Ray, while Sam takes his Barbie of the Month to lunch.

Brisk autumn breezes played tag around Kyle’s ankles as he strode up the steep sidewalk. The brilliant blue sky lifted Kyle’s spirits considerably. He could have driven the half-mile distance from his office to the restaurant, but that would have meant wasting a perfect Seattle afternoon. Gray days would be arriving soon. Who cares if I’m a few minutes late? Ray can wait. This meeting is just a formality anyway.

Kyle hesitated for one last moment in the sun before entering the dark foyer. “I’m meeting Ray Thompson for lunch,” he said to the hostess.

“Right this way, Sir,” she responded, smiling, and headed toward the back section.

Kyle followed, already missing the dancing breezes he’d left outside. The hostess indicated a table in the far right corner. Kyle took one step, then stopped. There must be some mistake. But then again, the person seated there was the only person in the whole section. A petite brunette in designer jeans and a corduroy blazer. I guess Ray couldn’t make it, Kyle thought. He turned back to the hostess and asked, “Are you sure that’s the right table?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Um, thanks,” Kyle muttered. As he approached the table, the woman looked up from the papers she’d been studying. She smiled. For Kyle, it was as though an eternity passed in that moment. His heart sank into his stomach. He felt he’d known her all his life, loved her since before time began. One look into those green eyes seemed to plunge him straight into her soul. He felt exposed and wanted to look away. But he couldn’t.

She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Rae Thompson. You must be Sam Borders?”

Say something, stupid. You must look like a complete idiot. “Um, no, Sam couldn’t make it. I’m Kyle Everett, head of graphic arts.” His hand trembled as he reached for hers.

“Nice to meet you, Kyle,” she said, appearing not to notice his nerves.

He stood there, completely at a loss for what should happen next. She raised a perfect eyebrow–he’d never seen an eyebrow quite so attractive–and asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

“Oh, yeah . . . right!” he said, laughing, and took the seat opposite hers. Say something clever. Anything! “You threw me off. I thought you were a man, not a beautiful woman.” What’s the matter with you? Talk about moronic comments. She probably thinks you’re a complete fool. Kyle reached for his water glass, knocking his file from the edge of the table to the floor. Wondering if he could possibly make a worse first impression, he leaned over, picked up the file, and placed it back on the table. He could feel himself blushing as he lifted his eyes sheepishly to her face.

The right corner of her mouth curled slightly upward, forming a small dimple in her right cheek. He couldn’t tell if she was amused or annoyed. Either way, she looked adorable.

To be continued. Next time we get into Rae’s head.


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