Holy Shit, Baby by Francis David

Mark showed his friend Steve a picture on his phone of his new lover and Steve responded by saying “Fuck yeah, you kidding me?”

"You know what, Mark?" Steve said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes glancing out the café window at the rain-soaked street, "I've never seen anything so beautiful."

“You don’t have to be so polite,” Mark said, I mean look at her—look at her.”

Steve paused mid-sip, his curiosity piqued. "What's that?" he asked, setting his cup down with a clink and looming in to look again at her. They were way beyond cups and saucers, he thought, why all the civility?

“What?”

“She looks Latin,” Steve said, “utterly delicious. But don’t cross her, she cut your nuts off.”

Mark leaned in closer, a conspiratorial smile playing on his lips. "Her name is Lily," he began, his eyes taking on a distant look as if he were picturing her right there in the café. "And she's not just beautiful, she's... I don't know, it's like she's made of pure light or something. Every time I look at her, it's like the world just... stops. She’s special. She could be the one."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "I can see that just by looking at her. But wow, that's intense, man. What's so special about her?"

"It's the way she moves," Mark said, his voice low and reverent, as if sharing a sacred secret. "So graceful, it's like watching a dancer glide across a stage. And her eyes, Steve, her eyes are... they're like looking into the ocean on a calm day. So deep, so full of life. And when she laughs..." He trailed off, lost in thought.

The café's chatter grew louder around them, but Mark didn't seem to notice. "It's like the best kind of music, you know? The kind that makes you feel alive just hearing it."

"Sounds like you're pretty smitten," Steve said, amusement tinting his voice.

Mark nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "I've never felt like this before. It's like she's the missing piece to some cosmic puzzle I didn't even know I was trying to solve."

The two friends finished up after a while, each going in different directions along the same street.

---

It had been raining for days. If it were even possible, it had picked up in intensity, tapping an erratic rhythm on the window, but inside, Mark's words painted a portrait of a woman who seemed to glow with an inner warmth that could outshine the grayest of days. "Her smile," he said, his voice filled with awe, "it's like the sun coming out after a storm. Just... brilliant."

Steve leaned in, his skepticism giving way to genuine interest. "What's she like to talk to?"

“We hardly talk at all, it’s so non-verbal, just sharing smiles and eyes—fuck, Steve, her eyes just penetrate you.”

“I bet you’d like to penetrate that all day,” Steve said.

Mark knew better than to take offense, continuing "But when we do talk, she’d intelligent, witty, kind," he listed, his voice gaining momentum. "Every conversation with her is like embarking on an adventure. She sees beauty in everything, even in the smallest things. And when she looks at me, I feel like I'm the only person who's ever mattered."

“And she likes to see you naked.”

“There’s that.”

The rain grew heavier, turning the world outside into a blur of gray and wet. But inside, Mark's description of Lily brought a vibrancy to the scene that the dull weather couldn't extinguish. "It's not just her looks, though," he clarified, "it's her soul. It's like she's got this... this light inside her that shines out, no matter what."

"Sounds like you've found something pretty special," Steve said, his smile warm.

"Yeah," Mark murmured, his gaze returning to the window. "I just hope I'm not dreaming."

---

The waitress came by to refill their cups, breaking the spell of Mark's confession. She glanced at them both, noticing the rapt attention on Steve's face and the faraway look in Mark's eyes. Having overheard some of their conversation, she wondered if she'd ever find someone who looked at her the way Mark talked about Lily.

As she left, Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "So, what's the catch?"

Mark looked at him, his expression confused. "What do you mean?"

"Every rose has its thorns, man. What's her deal?"

Mark's smile didn't waver. "There isn't one. She's perfect. Or at least, she's perfect for me."

---

Steve studied his friend, trying to reconcile this lovestruck man with the Mark he knew, the one who usually had a joke for every occasion and a skeptical remark for every romantic cliché. "What do you guys do together?" he asked.

"Everything and nothing," Mark said with a shrug. "We can sit in silence and feel like we've just had the most profound conversation. Or we'll go for walks, and she'll show me things I've never noticed before, like the way the light hits the leaves on the trees."

He paused, a fond look on his face. "And when we're together, it's like time stops. We could sit in a room with a thousand people and still be in our own little world. She's got this way of making me feel like I'm the only person who exists."

Steve nodded, his curiosity growing. "How'd you two meet?"

"It was at the bookstore," Mark said, his eyes lighting up at the memory. "I saw her from across the room, her hair a waterfall of gold, and I just had to go over. She was holding this book on ancient mythology, and she looked so absorbed in it, I couldn't resist teasing her a little."

That was a lie, they really met on Smoulder. But that was really nothing to be ashamed about.

"What'd you say?" Steve grinned, eager for details.

"I asked her if she was planning on opening a portal to Olympus." Mark chuckled, the sound warm and nostalgic. "And she looked up at me, with these... these incredible eyes, and said, 'Only if you're coming with me.' And that was it. I was hooked."

---

The rain grew even heavier, but inside the café, Mark's words painted a picture of a love that seemed impervious to the gloomy weather. "Her voice," he continued, his eyes glazed over with admiration, "it's like honey, smooth and sweet. And when she whispers, it's like she's telling secrets that only I'm allowed to hear."

"Sounds like quite the enchantress," Steve said, raising an eyebrow.

"More like an angel," Mark corrected, his voice earnest. "Every moment with her is a gift, a chance to experience something pure and perfect." Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t be using so many superlatives—people often weren’t what they appeared to be on the surface. But he couldn’t help himself, he was convinced.

---

Steve leaned in, his interest piqued. "What's the best part of being with her?"

Mark thought for a moment, his expression a mix of wonder and love. "It's the way she makes me feel," he said finally. "Like I'm the best version of myself. Like I can do anything, be anything, just because she believes in me."

"But what's she like when she's not being all... ethereal and amazing?" Steve prodded, searching for some kind of chink in the armor of this seemingly perfect woman.

Mark chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, she's got this weird obsession with reality TV, and she can't cook to save her life. But even when she burns dinner," he said with a fond smile, "it's the best meal I've ever had because she's the one who made it."

"And when she's mad?" Steve pushed.

"Fire and ice," Mark said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement. "But even when she's mad, she's beautiful. And she's got this fierce loyalty that's just... awe-inspiring."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the café door opening, and in walked a woman who seemed to be the physical embodiment of everything Mark had described. Her long brown hair was damp from the rain, her eyes sparkling with life, and when she saw Mark, her face lit up like the first dawn of creation. He jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair in his haste, and she rushed over, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug.

"Lily," Mark murmured into her hair, his voice filled with a love so deep it seemed to resonate through the very air around them.

"Hi," she said, stepping back and brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," Mark said, holding onto her hand. "I was just talking about you."

Steve stood up, extending his hand. "Hi, I'm Steve. The guy who's heard so much about you, I feel like I already know you."

Lily's laughter was like a melody, light and enchanting. "Nice to meet you, Steve," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "I hope he's been saying nice things."

As they sat down, Mark's hand never left hers, and Steve watched in amazement as the two of them talked and laughed, their connection palpable. He felt like he was witnessing something sacred, a bond forged from the stuff of poetry and legend. And as the rain continued to fall outside, it seemed to him that Mark had indeed found something beautiful, something that made the mundane world seem a little less gray.

The conversation flowed easily between them, with Lily's laughter punctuating the air like a series of delightful notes. Mark spilled the tea about their first date, the nervousness that had plagued him until she walked in, her smile lighting up the room like a thousand candles. He recounted how they had talked for hours, about everything and nothing, and how she had looked at him with those deep, ocean eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

Lily blushed prettily at his words, her cheeks a soft pink that matched the roses in the vase on the table. She spoke of their shared interests, the quiet moments they'd spent together reading under a tree, the way Mark had held her hand during a horror movie, making her feel safe even as she jumped at every shadow on the screen. It was clear that she saw him as more than just a man; he was her hero, her confidant, her partner in every sense of the word.

Steve sat back, watching his friend in amazement. He had never seen Mark like this before, so open, so alive. But he could swear he recognized her, if not before when he first saw her picture, but if she knew him, she wasn’t letting on, at least not yet.

Mark got up and went to get a refill from the barista instead of waiting on the nosey waitress, leaving Steve and Lily alone.

“Hello Steven,” she said, as if they hadn’t just met, or as if they had indeed known each other before. Everyone called him Steve, except for…

“Saia?”

“Yes Steven.”

“Holy shit it is you. What the f---?”

“It’s nice to see you too.”

“But your hair, your voice…your eyes…NAME, it’s all different!”

“Not that different, Steven.”

“How’d you pull this off?”

“It’s not that difficult, to color your hair, put on an accent, wear colored contacts, adopt an alias—"

Steve cut her off. “What are the odds my friend would get mixed up with you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Is this your way of…getting back at me?”

“Don’t be silly, Mark’s a great guy, and I don’t want to hurt him, I'm trying to reform, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him either.”

There was a long silence.

“I have to admit I can’t stop thinking about you either. I mean holy shit, you're hot!”

Finally, she said “Meet me in the bathroom in 3 minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”