Night's Tale

"I could go on about the scenario back at office, it just maddens me. I bet you would have been exasperated like me by now, or may be he wouldn't, he's so bloody calm all the time, or may be you'd shrug it off."

"Woah! What did I do? Why is this suddenly about me? You know these are hazards of corporate life. Take it cas!"

"Murder the language!, What the hell is cas! I don't even want to ask you. It must be one of your crazy ideas or some dark sense of humor. "  I keep quiet, he figures I am done rambling and throwing a fit, he looks at me evenly, and I as usual avoid looking directly into his eyes, making myself busy with the purse which I had flung across the bed.

"I am off to take a shower, do you mind staying alone for some time?"

"No, I have my book." I grin back foolishly  and point to the Midnight's Children on the bed.  Why does he feel skeptical about leaving me alone? What does he think, I will actually shoot a resignation mail to my exasperating boss? No, I am a sensible woman, who can't take her eyes off the guy in front of the cupboard selecting a pair of tracks and matching T shirt... No, I am a sensible girl and I will not, look at those hips as walks across the room or contemplate the back err side.

"So, I am off to the shower, you sure you will be okay? Should I turn on the TV for you, and he says all this without registering my horror at his proximity to me, when he walked back into the room and stood so close to me that I can almost smell that faint perfume, is it called perfume? It's His smell. I only have HD channels subscription?"

"No, I say a little too forcefully, I smile to salvage the situation, I think I will survive a few minutes."

"I will take at least half and hour." What will he do in that half hour? I almost shut my eyes to an image that springs into my mind. Crap, Crap, Crappity Crap. Friend's do not have images of a friend doing things to himself in the bathroom. Oh my lord, have I become so ...  My thoughts are interrupted by a touch, of his hands as he leans across the bed to pick up his pack of cigarettes and lighter. I frown inwardly, everything in the room stinks of the smoke. He is sauntering off to the attached bathroom, my eyes follow him, as he passes by the mirror he catches me gaping at him like the proverbial Pavlov's Dog or a fool. I think I see a smirk kiss his lips as I shift my gaze to Salman Rushdie.

What in God's name is wrong with me? I admonish myself inwardly. Where on Earth are these crazy feelings surfacing from? The only reason I am in this bedroom is I want to do so many things to that cute guy, which I had an opportunity 3 months ago when he caught me by surprise, trapping me with his words into spending the night with him, there was a rat in the room booked by my company in a stupid Hotel. I hate having two parallel thoughts running in my mind, it confuses me.

*****

I decide this is a good time to put my suitcase in the spare room. My suitcase is such a dirty one, he must think I am, wait, I admonish myself, it is not about him, I place the suitcase in the room, it's filled with empty boxes, giving a feeling that the resident of the apartment has recently shifted and unpacked. Yet I know that he has been living in this rented apartment for the last 2 years. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that this is one of the largest apartments I have seen, for one single guy, who spends almost 80% of his waking hour outside it. I decide to arrange the clothes that I will change into for the evening. While doing this a thought pops into my head. What an eventful day it has been, flying in to the city I was not looking forward to the dreary and long meetings which just gives me headache, then returning to the impersonal Hotel Room sharing it with some random person in the team, in the name of team building, I roll my eyes at the thought. Then the rat made its appearance and I wanted the room to be changed, the manager was adamant and my own company's co-ordinator refused to assist me. I was in a foul mood.

I reflect back at the day's event that unfolded at work, how I almost sent a resignation letter to my boss! 'Almost sent', because I got a call from him during my lunch hour, because he wanted me to meet him for dinner. I offloaded as much of the trouble as possible on him, speaking to him in hushed tones from the washroom in the office. He just kept quiet but did not speak a word. His silence drove me up the wall, I was on the verge of tears, when he told me to calm down and get back to work. We could discuss this over dinner like as if this was some professional, instead of me being an emotional over reacting idiot, discussion.

I walk out of the room, sweating from the heat in the room or in my mind I don't know. I don't really want to read the book, it's a serious book, and I don’t want to read a serious book. I want to think about nothing that has happened at work. I don't like staying away from my family, the thought of having to live out of suitcase is difficult. I have never been fond of travelling unless it is for leisure and definitely cannot be bothered with being cooped up in the hotel room with the city outside waiting to be explored. I wander around the apartment walking through the wide corridor linking the two bedrooms with the living area and kitchen. The kitchen is pretty modern but bears an unkempt look, there are no dirty dishes, I hate dirty dishes, I have to wash them the moment I see them. I open the refrigerator hoping to find something to drink. The fabled quintessential 'cool' guy should at least have the favorite Stela beer stash somewhere here. Beer is not my favorite alcoholic beverage, I frown, moodily.

The living area is spacious, with a beige couch taking up one side of the room with its back to the heavily tinted windows opening into the sprawling terrace. One wall in the room is done up with art deco type paint, which gives the painted surface some texture and feel, I run my hand across the wall admiring the clock on it. A strange looking clock with Alphabets instead of numbers on the dial. I remember the other clocks in the apartment. I don't like clocks.

The living room is sparse but the main attraction is the very large display cabinet with light tinted glass shutters, behind it I squint to see bottles of liquor, in all shapes and sizes, some are miniatures. My fingers tingle wanting to touch them, but the cabinet is locked. Weird! I guess he thinks someone might steal them. The next shelf in the cabinet is filled with stacks of CD's, DVD's etc. I can't even begin to count; there must be at least 300 jackets inside. So he collects things, I am a collector too, I bristle proudly, and I collect books, not rare books, just books. I love reading. But I don't wish to read now.

I moodily contemplate walking out to the terrace. It's dark outside; I look at the clock on the wall with alphabets, and find the hands pointing to E and T. So is it the hour of ET, I chuckle, grinning widely I decide to try the door knob on the door leading out to the terrace. I am distracted by the couch, will he ask me to sleep here, and there is large double bed in the bedroom? I don't mind the couch. It's beige. I wish it was red. I wish everything I own to be red or pink. Why am I thinking like a scatter brain bimbo? I realize rudely that I am trying to run from the thoughts of what he is doing in that bathroom. I sit on the couch, plug into my music player trying to let the music soothe my soul. Enrique sings, "not in love" that's the song that makes most sense now.

Do I love him? He is my friend, long lost, kindergarten friend. He remembers me from my pigtail and chubby cheeks day. I blush remembering the grey skirt, red and white checked shirt and red tie. I don’t love. But sure as hell I have been thinking about him for the past 3 months. If this was a movie, there would a flashback right here. That night I was just about done ready to call it a night, I got a call from him and ended up in his apartment at midnight. The day dream unfolded and then came crashing down. When I finally came to my senses I realized I wanted to take one more try. What do I want? Another night may be.

*****

I suddenly think I hear my name. I clamber off the couch, looking here and there and pulling the ear phones out with a jerk. It's all quiet except the ceiling fan. I hear my name called out and realize it's coming from the bedroom, I hurry back to the room, I find him poking his head from the bathroom door, his hair is wet, the water drips on to his face, he keeps pushing back his hair with his hand, I can see him naked, well not all naked, just up to his chest. 

He says, "Where were you? I thought someone kidnapped you?" He smirks to see me scowl. I try to mutter something about music and head phones, he waves his hand at me to stall me, and launches into, " we should eat in today you are tired and look like you will fall asleep now, there are a few menu's on top of the fridge in the kitchen, take them and decide what you want to have. I will be done in 10 minutes then we'll order. It's very late."

"It's probably 8 pm ", I try to tell him, he opens his eyes wider in horror, "No, it's almost 10 PM. I picked you up from the hotel at 8 pm." I am shocked, I point to the clock in the room, and this one is like a half and half thing, with one side made of glass and the other wood with silver roman numerals embossed on it. It shows 9. He grins back, "none of the clocks in my apartment work." What a foolish thing to do, I wonder but refrain from commenting, because in all this conversation, he has opened the door a little more and I can see his entire arm gesticulating at me. Does he want me to get his towel? I snap out of the line of thought, as he says, "try the Italian menu, it's good, I know you like Italian food, you are always having pasta or pizza." and closes the door, I don't hear the telltale sound of the bolt lock engaging. Doesn't he lock the bathroom door? I imagine peeping through the keyhole, for whatever reasons the door has a lock with a key hole; I had noticed it the last time. I can't stare through the key hole. What am I?

I am in the kitchen now and manage to find the menus, I ignore all except the Italian, and Mr. Know it all wants to have Italian so be it. I glance at menu as I flop down on the couch muttering to myself, a drop of water falls on my foot and I look up. He's standing in his black track pants with green border on the sides, I blanch inwardly, a black T shirt with a fluorescent colored outline of a big shoe with equally long shoe laces, and I roll my eyes inwardly again.

"You haven't decided anything have you? I know what to order, give me the menu." He dials the number and speaks hurriedly on the phone ordering two portions of pasta, salad, garlic bread, chocolate mousse. My eyes grow wide; this is too much food being ordered. I try to attract his attention by waving. I know I should touch his shoulder, he is pacing up and down the room in long strides and I am oscillating between the awareness that he looks charming, I want to wrap my arms around him and I need to stop him from ordering so much. He looks at me finally, his eyes questioning, I nod suggesting nothing. Yes I have nothing to say. What can I say to this exasperating guy who is stuck in my head, ever since the day I sat beside him and he played with my hands lying on his bed and said “you have only been here for 2 hours, stay for 15 minutes more.”

He is back in the room having walked out for a while, he turns on the TV and slides the cabinet door open to his collection of DVD's, and raises an eyebrow again with the same questioning look. I ask, "When will the delivery be here." "In 40 mins." I search for the next thing to say, I am sitting wearing my old clothes since morning and would really like to change. How do I say this? Why am I being shy?

He breaks into the reverie, "I need to buy some cigarettes I am all out. I will be back in 15 minutes, can you stay alone?" I look up to him and in flash feel panic, alone in the apartment. I regain my composure and smile a big toothy grin and say yes. He looks at me appraising my reaction and changes out of slippers. "You can take one of my slippers to wear you know." Is it an offer or is it an option? I say, "No thank you, I will trip and fall in those huge slippers."

They are not that huge I sadly contemplate once he closes the door behind him and his footsteps on the stairs recede. Here's my chance to freshen up. I hurry into the bathroom with my change of clothes and towel. The hot water is ready, how thoughtful. There is only one set of hooks for clothes and I have so many, right now all the hooks are booked with his t shirt, tracks and towel. I gingerly lift the t shirt and track from the hook and place it on the bed in the room. I use the freed hooks. I manage to brush my teeth, heaven knows why and take a quick shower, I dress hurriedly in my pink unicorn PJ's and grey floppy over sized t shirt, my comfort wear. Thank god I am not carrying my usual rags. I step out happy to have beaten the clock, drying my wet hair. He is sitting in front of his laptop on the bed and smoking leisurely, he looks up, appraises me in one sweep, nods at his clothes on the bed, “you can leave your clothes on the washing machine, I can run it tomorrow." I flush, imagining my clothes and his in the washing machine together. Ridiculous.

"It's alright there is nothing to wash." I smile wanting to escape to the other room so I can deposit all my clothes into my suitcase.

He shrugs his shoulder and stares back at the laptop screen. I walk out to the next room, hastily stuffing my dirty clothes into the separate chamber in the suitcase and rub some lotion over my limbs and I am ready to dash out. I almost crash into him walking out of his bedroom. He steps aside and I come to stand still. He is anxious. He seems worried. He says," I wonder what is taking the delivery guy so long, you are hungry." Is it a question?

I nod in the negative. He dismisses it. He picks up the phone and dials and asks about the delivery. He seems reassured after the call. "Do you want to watch a movie?" I shrug non commitedly.  He probably thinks I am bored. "You are bored, I know, I am sorry I left you alone for so long. Actually I am in the habit of taking a shower after I get back home. The food is taking so long. I promised you I will take you out for dinner and now you are bored and hungry."

With so many things tumbling out of his mouth I am slightly shocked. I try to reason with him. "I am not bored, and the food will be here nothing to be worried about. Let's watch a movie." I try to placate him. "What movie do you want to watch? These are the titles I have", he points to the cabinet.

I don't want to watch a movie, what about our discussion? I want to tell him. I keep quiet. I glance at the titles none of them interesting me. I shrug again. He's tired; he runs his hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. I could do that. He offers a solution, rattling off names of movies, and I have to tell him which I haven't seen. I have seen most, and then he says Rocknrolla. I have not seen this. I know it's a Gerard Butler movie, I know it is also a very violent movie. I have no desire to watch it. He is excited, "you haven't seen this, you must it is really good. And girl's like Gerard Butler."

What rubbish! Generalizations are stupid.

*****

He pops the DVD in the player and drags the two black bean bags in front of the couch; I am excited about the bean bags not the movie. I admonish myself inwardly. He sits on one of the bean bag and puts his feet up on the other and I am left to slink back onto the couch where I was sitting all this while. So no bean bag for you.

He lights a cigarette, dragging on it slowly, I watch his face, his hands, and how he shifts his weight or crosses his legs. I am watching him as the scene on the TV gets going, the noises are alarmingly loud, I make a face, I see him twisting his neck to see me, and he turns down the volume. He keeps looking back at me every few minutes to check. I feel irritated. Why does he need to do that?

The calling bell buzzes, it's our food. He puts the movie on pause and gets up all in one swift movement. How does he do it? Before I have come out of the daze of what is happening he is paying off the delivery boy and collecting the food. I offer to help. He almost pushes me aside carrying the food to the kitchen, he takes out cutlery and plates with the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and eyes scrunched up from the smoke. When I offer to carry some of the things to the living room, he gives me some forks and spoons and nudges me along with the plates in his hand. I feel displeased, why is he treating me like a leper? Can't I touch anything?

Back in the room I divide up the food on the plates. He sits back on his bean bag. I can't resist, “why don't you come and sit here on the couch?" 

He replies without turning back, "I always sit here when watching TV, that couch is for guests."

I keep quiet, digging into my food. Dinner is over and the movie is getting serious. We remove the plates and stuff back to the kitchen. I try to figure out what time it is. It must be past midnight. He lights up another to smoke. I am distracted by him, too distracted to notice Gerard Butler on screen.

I can barely keep my eyes open, I find myself slowly stretching out on the couch. I think I am drifting off to sleep. "This is an interesting scene." he says and I open my eyes wide. Gerard Butler is in bed with a woman. Holy cow, must I watch this with him in the room.

He glances up at me smiling, sees me stretched out on the couch almost dozing, he pauses the movie. I think we are done for the night. I yawn, "shall we sleep I am dead, we can watch this movie tomorrow." “I have seen this before, but if you want we can watch it tomorrow. You didn’t like the movie, you are bored.” He is looking at me when he says this, he is trying to judge the reaction I am about to give. I keep quiet.

Again the same statement, why must he worry whether I am bored?” I am fine. If I am bored I will say it.

 I drag myself of the couch and feel a head rush. He looks at me suspiciously, “are you okay?” “Yes.” I am matter of fact.

I walk into the bedroom, he follows me, and says “do you need water to drink at night’? “There’s enough for now.”I say, pointing to one bottle beside the bed. He nods, walks out and I try to figure out how to bring up the subject of where I should sleep. He walks back in with another bottle and keeps it on the other side of the bed.

I manage to gather up my courage and say, “Can you help me pull out the couch cum bed?” He frowns at me shocked almost, “you are sleeping here, and there is enough space here. You are not sleeping on the couch.” That puts an end to all discussion.

This is exactly what confuses me, he will on one hand make effort to give me a choice in so many petty things but in the one place I want to have a choice he will take it away with a wave of his hand.

I resign myself, climb into the bed, it’s not as bad as I had imagined, it’s comfortable, I fluff the pillow and lie down. I am wishing I had a cover, although it’s not cold but I am uncomfortable sleeping without one. I turn towards the wall away from him and close my eyes, just in time to hear his phone ring. He calls out, “I got to take this video call do you mind if I take this in the other room, and I will be back soon.” I nod and sleep.

I don’t know how long it’s been but I feel warm and open my eyes to find a white and blue duvet on me. It’s comfortable. It’s almost like him, or at least that’s how I would imagine his embrace would be. My sleepy brain smiles as I grin foolishly.

******

The light is on in the room, I can hear faint sounds, I turn around and find him sitting in front of his laptop, he is concentrating hard on the sound which are muffled and low. He drags on his smoke slowly and blows it out even slower. He seems relaxed. He becomes aware of my eyes on him, and turns back, his eyes look tired but he says, “I was just finishing watching an episode from my favorite TV series. Do you mind?” I nod in the negative.

What is wrong with me, how do I become so tongue tied around him? What is it about him? What is going on in my head? I am disappointed that we haven’t really talked like I thought we would like we normally do on phone. I am disappointed he isn’t showing any interest me and is being completely aloof and formal. I am supposed to be the friend he wanted to have come over and spend a weekend, go on trip, spend a night. What happened to that? I sulk. But I can’t sleep under the fluorescent light glaring in the room. I get up still wrapped in the duvet and shift tentatively towards the laptop trying to peer into the screen. He is watching How I Met Your Mother. One of the many TV series we both love err like. He realizes I am awake, looks at me evenly, “am I disturbing you?”

“No.” I croak, bristling with anger.  Why does he do this exasperating thing? I try to smile. He looks at me waiting for a few seconds expecting me to say something. I am looking back at him, directly into his eyes, SHIT, how am I doing this? I realize stupidly that I am not wearing my lenses and can’t really see very clearly, He’s eyes are blurry, fuzzy at the edges. So, this is the solution to my problem, no lens and half blinded by my myopia? I almost chuckle, stopping before the sound escapes my lips.

“Is this the latest episode? I am watching this current season.” I breathe.

“This is the latest episode; do you want to watch it from the beginning?” He looks at me with his finger poised above the laptop.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.” My formality gets the better off me. I must stop this.

“Okay.” The video is paused. It begins to play from the start. The familiar characters fill the laptop screen. I can barely hear the words; I grimace not being able to make out the words spoken. I am wondering what to do. He stops the video again, I look up, he leans towards me and for a moment I wonder what is on his mind.  Is he going to kiss me? I hate myself for thinking like this. Why do I have a parallel track running in my head? I clamber back to the now.

He leans back and picks up the headphones from the headboard of the bed, plugs it into the laptop point and offers me one ear bud, the one with longer wire, I put it in my ear, he shows a Thumbs Up sign with his hand and plays the video.

I am close to him still wrapped in the duvet constricted in movement. I am trying not to get too close or touch him by accident. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes, “are you cold?” I flush a little; I must look ridiculous in the duvet. I struggle to remove it, as is obvious my ear phone slips out and I end up tugging his ear bud out too. He is startled, “What did you do? Oh!”  Is he irritated, shit what an idiot I am. “Wait!” he takes away the ear phones from me. Holds one side of the duvet as I wriggle out of it, he flips it away to the other side of the bed near the headboard. We are sitting near the foot of the bed on one coroner.

I notice to my horror that my PJ’s have climbed up to my knee on my left leg and the t- shirt is scrunched up on my back, I tug at both with my hands managing to smoothen them back. I realize he is looking at my foot. He shakes his head, what doesn’t he approve? My silver and white stone anklet or the toe rings? I love jewelry, maybe he doesn’t like it. What is all this self doubt?

“Ready now?” It’s question about the video. I nod, again words fail me. I am not wearing my lenses I can’t really make out much of the video. But I don’t want to interrupt him again. He puts in his ear bud;  I wait for him to hand over the other one to me. He looks at me signaling with his fingers to shift near to him, I do, he pushes the ear bud into my left ear. I feel his touch on my cheek and ear lobes and almost gasp. He is so warm, almost hot. Without the duvet for my cover my skin is exposed to him. My arms brush against his arm and I feel something like a shock, I try to keep my limbs away from him. But they behave like frost bitten appendages trying to find warmth. There is nothing worse than involuntary invasion of personal space. I have a Masters degree in that.

He has played the video again. We watch in silence.

Robin is kissing Barney. Oh my! Barney has feelings for her. Barney, the guy who goes through women like tickets of a blockbuster motion picture! This is a surprise twist in the story! I am wondering where this will go, the video ends abruptly. I am still glowing from the soft and touching moment. Barney is my favorite character in the series. He seems the kind of guy who will never fall in love. But he has. I am smiling.

He is looking at me. I blush. I never blush.

He looks at me very intently, takes out his headphone, I mirror his action, but his hands are already there, our fingers touch and I think this is not happening, I blush and feel my cheeks burn. I roll my eyes at myself. He still looks amused and searchingly looks at me. He is turning off the laptop and places it on the floor beside the bed. He leans over and I see his t-shirt ride up. A glimpse of skin shouldn’t make me flush. But I do wondering how it would feel to run my hand over his skin. I am fascinated by my thoughts. I lean across the bed and run a finger down the exposed skin between his T Shirt and the waist band of the tracks. He is shocked and jumps up at my touch. My fingers are icy cold and his skin so deliciously hot to touch. I pull away my hand hold it near my mouth blowing on it softly as if it’s burnt. He looks at me quizzically. His eyebrows are reaching for the top of his forehead. I smile in glee. 

******

I avoid looking as he takes too long to get up. My stomach has done a summersault imagining all this. My imagination gives me powers which fail in the real world. I cannot touch him. He has stopped leaning over. I sigh.

He leans towards me again; I know this time what to expect, he will put back his ear phones near the headboard. I move slightly in front to let him have access to the headboard.  “No one’s kissing you tonight, girl” I tell the truant mischievous girl in my head, who wants to peep through a key hole or wishes the door of the bath room to open wider, wishes to see him saunter out wrapped in a towel, who admonishes me for lying and snoring, I don’t snore, but it is as bad as snoring to lie in bed like a log of wood and sleep. He put the white and blue cover on me! Oh he must have touched me!

I am shocked to hear my name whispered into my ears and feel his warm breath on my neck, I look at him. His tired eyes are warm and his lips are parted, he raises his eye brow questioningly. Was I not paying attention? Of course I wasn’t paying attention! Did he ask me something? What did I miss? I open my mouth to ask, in flash his lips are almost on mine. But it’s not a kiss. We stare into each other’s eye, I am not afraid to look, and he is not blurry without my lenses, Oh I can see his eyes, all this time I thought he had unimpressive eyes, but I look into them and find myself unable to look away, they draw me into their dark depths. They don’t look tired, they look alive.

His eyes are again asking.

He mouths my name with a question mark at the end. I widen my eyes, wondering, why his lips were almost on mine.

I don’t know why I just couldn’t wait, was it his eyes, was it his smell, was it the silly TV show. Before I know it I have inched my head forward and just like an electric circuit closes, our lips meet. Both of us are still looking into each other. It’s as if we are waiting and worrying who will break the kiss or blink. I feel a pressure in my head, I want more and I try to will him with my eyes, imploring to take the next step. I have stopped breathing; I can feel his warm sweet breath on me. His eyes grow wide and this time he presses his lips back on mine, that’s probably hint enough for me to part my lips a little and breathe out, it’s almost a sigh.

He doesn’t need another hint, his lips claim mine. I close my eyes. This is what I wanted, this one chance. I am kissing him. No, he is kissing me.  His lips are soft and tentative. I grow restless, wanting to run my hand over his shoulders, touch is face, run my fingers through his hair. But I can’t. I am sitting at an odd angle and all I can do is lean into the kiss. We haven’t broken the kiss yet. Now I wonder how long will this go on. I admonish myself for such a thought. I try to concentrate on what his lips feels like, they don’t feel soft, they are too soft, they are like nothing I have known, yet I feel they are exactly the way they should be. He is kissing me passionately and I am frozen unsure what to do except not withdraw away from him. I wonder should I part my lips? Is this the time? He stops. His lips withdraw not completely, he is still breathing heavily and I have a shallow breathing. He is again looking at me. Another question.

Okay, wait this is it. My brain is screaming at me, I am screaming back at it to shut up. I want to savor this moment. He is looking at me still breathing hard, I can feel his warmth because he has been so close. We are not kissing anymore. We are gauging each other’s reaction. Finally I break eye contact, blushing, a shy smile spreads across my lips, I feel it and blush more. He whispers my name this time a little urgently, I look up. He looks lost, he runs his hand over his forehead and eyes, he again has that tired look in his eyes, he says, “you didn’t like it did you?”

Again!! “Why do you keep assuming I don’t like things? I will tell you if I don’t.” I say a little forcefully. I realize his eyes growing tired. What am I doing? I need to get us back to where we were? Where were we? “I was surprised. I like surprises.”

His eyes sparkle as grin spreads across his face, I notice his white teeth, very white teeth, and he has the widest smile, giving even Julia Roberts a run for her money. I grin at the thought. He raises his eyebrows, noticing my grin. He reaches out and touches my arm and pulls me towards him. I maneuver myself to face him with my legs tucked on one side. We are face to face. Is he going to kiss me again?

“May I?’ this time he mouths the words. I wonder why he is asking for permission to kiss me. Or is it for something more?  I blush and look away at his chest, on the fluorescent lines forming a big sneaker. I don’t know what he understands. I feel his fingers delicately moving the strands of hair falling over my eyes and putting them behind my ears. They won’t stay put, I know, they are cut too short, they always fall on my eyes and encircle my round face. I wish I hadn’t got this haricut. There I go again.

I look up at him without moving my head up and try to gauge his reaction may be even his plan. He takes a sharp breath and his mouth is a straight line, with no speck of the wide grin. “Don’t look at me like that.” He says it in a slightly heavy voice unlike the whispered words earlier. The air between us was already charged. But this adds something to it, a promise of veiled passion.  I look back down and straighten up to look at him directly, his mouth relaxes, he had moved his hand away from me, and He tentatively puts away the errant hair behind my ear. The expectation builds inside me.

to be continued ....