(originallly posted on my AFF blog)
So, since it was a lovely night, and no rain to be found. I decided that I would head back down to The District tonight, once again with my pretty blue book. I parked in a slightly different locale, on the other side of the pavilion, since I didn’t need the awning to keep me dry. This time though, I wasn’t looking to unload, but just let my mind find something that sounded interesting. The story started out with a different intent, but ended up turning into an odd little rumination on a daydream of rediscovering an almost-love from my high school days. The names (or name I guess) have been changed to protect the slightly shy and modest (hey, I said slightly). So, I thought I would share once again.
Is he watching?
Does he see?
If I look, I’ll know.
If I look, he’ll know.
I should look, but what if he sees?
I look up. He is watching, marking my movement, studying. I can see his eyes; clear, determined, assessing.
I can’t deal anymore. Waiting, with baited breath. I stand, and begin to collect my things. I won’t look. He could take any glance as an invitation. I smile to the bouncer as I leave. It’s only polite. For most people, they are wallpaper, just another bar fixture. They deserve better. He smiles back, but suddenly frowns, looking past me. I stop, knowing he’s there.
He must’ve made a gesture, the bouncer smiled. I keep walking, giving the bouncer a measured look; traitor.
I walk outside. It’s a lovely night. I wish I could just take a walk, enjoying the sweet summer breeze and the beautiful moon hanging in the sky. But I can feel him behind me. If he thinks I’ll talk first…
“Please stop.” The yearning in his voice is intoxicating. I keep walking, my gait unsteady. “Please.”
Damn it! All I wanted was a night out, a detox from a long and thankless week. I don’t speed up, but my steps become more sure, more determined. My walk says, “Go to hell.” He knows it. He knows me, far too well, even after all these years. I guess I haven’t changed that much.
Neither has he. I can hear the indecision, the floundering in his step. How can he? He has no right to be that way. The sweet and endearing hesitancy, I can almost see the self-doubt in his eyes. As a boy he was unsure. Is the man? Or is it my presence? Was it always me?
I can see my car, I wonder if he can guess which one is mine. My step falters; he’s stopped walking. I curse myself for almost stopping. I curse him for making me.
“Damn it, Jenna!” That’s not the voice of the procrastinating boy. That is the voice of a man, a man who’s made a choice. I stop.
“Fifteen years and that’s your opening?” I can feel his smile, “What do you want?”
“I want you to look at me.” I turn quickly and give him a look that would’ve given the bouncer pause. He smiles again. I narrow my eyes and turn away, walking again. But I gave him too much. He runs up and swings around in front of me.
“Now what do you want?” I’m losing my will to leave. How dare he look hurt, lost, desperate for a little kindness. I close my eyes, trying not to sigh, trying not to smile. I should give him no quarter, he’s earned none from me. He sighs instead.
He reaches out to catch an errant tear, one that falls against my will. I silently beg someone that it will be the only one. His hand caresses my cheek. The boy wouldn’t have done that. We’re not who we used to be, but these versions of ourselves, they aren’t so far removed. Without words, we hear each other.
I open my eyes and he smiles brightly, more hope and optimism than I’ve ever seen in his face before. Is this the true face of the man he’s become? He reaches out, taking my hand, moving me just a little closer.
I go willingly, and I know my pride has lost the battle to the heart that still beats like a girl’s. I’m 17 again, and not a moment has passed. This time he didn’t let me walk away. This time, he gave chase. I smile now, admitting my defeat. Deep inside, I can finally admit it… I wanted him to come after me. Tonight, that afternoon, in a brightly lit classroom, full of students anxious for the bell that would mean summer was just a few more hours away.
15 years later, he finally became the man who will come after me when I run in fear of my own weakness. He pulls me even closer. The boy is in his eyes, but it’s just a shadow, overrun by the man standing before me. He smiles, leaning closer, his lips coming home to the warmth waiting from a melted resolve.
When his lips touch mine, my doubt floats away. Sent back in time, to the girl who ran to protect her heart. So long to wait, so long to ache. The kiss is simple, no passion, just the tenderness of a lifetime in wait.
When he pulls back, his face is alight, smiling brightly, reflecting my own. He leans in again, resting his forehead on mine, basking in the familiarity. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His scent fills my nostrils; how could I forget how he smelled?
“Only a little.”
I laugh, and I feel better than I ever remember. We laugh together, and it’s the best we ever felt together. I pull back, looking into his eyes, alight with the release of a long held burden. “Where the hell have you been?”
He throws his head back, laughing loudly. It’s a good sound, this man before me, shouting his pleasure to the starry sky. He yanks me into his arms, holding me as if not a moment has passed. “Looking for you.”
It’s a little disjointed, but that’s just the way it came out of me. Hope you enjoyed.
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