Chapter 1
It all started with a text. I had sent it, saying I was not a coward and could do anything I felt like. He had laughed, showed it to his best friend maybe. But then, I did not care; I meant what I sent.
I had always thought he was cute. He, on the other hand, had always ignored me. Having been selected to attend a two-week competition seminar, we were forced to be in the same place and work together. When I helped him on the obstacle course, he said he admired my quick reflexes, and I had blushed so much. From there, I think he became nice to me- friendly even.
The next few days, we both opened up a little. He asked why I was always so focused on my school work that I did not have any other life apart from it- I asked him why he was afraid to join the choir when he could sing. We both laughed at each other and vowed never to ask such questions. This is why I sent my brave response when he sent me the text saying I was a coward to hide inside books and not have a life like an average teenager.
As usual, he was silent the next two days, and so was I. However, on the third day, he blurted out,
"Cyn, you never do what you say. You are such a liar!"
I was taken aback by alarm and humor. Why did he say that? How should I respond? What would I do next?
The questions ran through my head so fast, but the only phrase that made enough sense to say was a pathetic "I won't lie."
His smile was coy. I smiled back.
After the night's last meeting, we sat together on a mat in the evening light. Our shoulders were touching, an occasional face caress or a wink when caught staring…our evening stretched this way for the longest time. I had no idea what could happen next, but curiosity encouraged me to play on.
Everybody else was supposedly busy with whatever they were busy with. With no one minding us, I now recall what I whispered in his right ear.
"Let's go."
"Where?" he said without raising his eyes from the phone. I guess he was the sensible one between us at this point.
"Not here." I told him with a sly smile, "outside, maybe."
"And do what, outside?" he asked lazily, still looking at his phone, trying to hide his apparent piqued interest. I saw right through him, through the smile ghosting on his lips.
"Chaw," I said, averting my eyes from his piercing ones when he suddenly looked up, surprising me.
"let's go," he replied, unsurprised, but remained sitting.
I got up, pulled him to his feet, and ushered us outside. The evening was slightly windy. The cool air knocked the heat out of my lungs and made part of me plead to go back inside. I ignored that voice and told the boy to stand beside me and be my windbreaker. This made him laugh. I laughed too. But he obeyed and stood rigidly, fidgeting only 1% more than I was.
We spoke silently, standing so close my shirt was static with his. We talked about the weather and how it was cold in Mid-August. We spoke about the crickets in the distance and how annoying their meaningless calls are. We spoke about little nothings I can't remember now. But we spoke.
The horizon was a magical hue of blood and indigo. I cannot forget the brilliant silhouette created by a brush burning sluggishly nearby. The way embers smoldered into the black sky and sprinkled it with their dying lights, outlining his face. I will never unhear that he loved the view. He said it was tranquil. He marveled at its beauty, and I marveled at his. I could tell he was taking his time, but I was in no hurry. If you ask me another day, I'd stretch this moment for infinity and half.
Deliberately, I moved closer to my "windbreaker"; so close I could feel heat radiate from him and hear the sound of his heart…or was it mine? Well, it was beating loudly. When he moved closer, too, I momentarily locked eyes with him. Turning fully, he leaned in so suddenly I flinched when he touched my face, making him stop. A serious thought had crossed my mind.
"what about her?" I said, referring to his girlfriend. I attempted to maintain eye contact, but it was too dark, so I concentrated on his sultry voice instead.
"what about him?" he countered.
"He is not here." I heard me say. Almost too quickly.
"Well, neither is she," he said as fast.
I began to say something but then he touched his lips to mine, interrupting me. When I froze, he paused for a second, almost like he was asking for permission, so I kissed him back. I did not think when he moved me against the wall and deepened the caress. My attention lingered on the feel of his mouth and the wild beat of his heart under my right palm.
I pulled back to catch my breath, but he pulled me closer to him and murmured something indistinct before moving to my neck. There he placed little kisses, each one sending fireworks through my heart and body. I held his shirt and shut my eyes slightly from the feeling I was experiencing from the embrace. For once in my life, I felt perfect about parts I rarely paid attention to; my neck, hair, and the palms of my hands…. He stroked them with unhurried patience.
And then suddenly, I loved him.
I loved him. I loved him then and allowed myself to be selfish and want him for myself at whatever cost. I felt so much love for him I missed his wandering hand on my neck, jaw, and collar bones. I noticed how calm he was; it was my effect on him. I imagined it at first, but it cracked through when he caressed my neck and lower back as if he was used to doing so.
I liked it. He was completely relaxed with me in his arms, and I loved him more.
When we finally broke apart, I refused to let him go. I stubbornly locked my fingers on his lower back, hid under my braids, and placed my head on his chest. He laughed softly but not for long because he was breathing hard. And I…. I was gasping for air!
"Am sorry," I told him in a soft murmur. He heard.
He kissed my temple softly and told me he was sorry too. Later, much much later, he would say to me that he was not sorry for what had occurred tonight. Honestly, I believed him the second time only because I did not regret anything either: not what had taken place tonight or that which did some nights after.
Even when we returned to school and he went back to ignoring me. Even when I saw him with his girlfriend holding hands and being in love with each other, I never could fill up the space beside him. I had no reason to. I also had no reason to regret it even for a second; You are only sorry for things you regret. I don't regret it- I am not ashamed. He isn't either. I feel it in his stolen glances. His slow smiles.
