Attraction

A simple romance story with a bad title cause I am not good with names and titles

She sat on the bench between the two trees. From there, she could see the southern university grounds; the football fields, the business faculty with the path leading to the southern gate. All she could think of as she sat there waiting was her, and the moments they were going to spend together.

She recalled her curly golden hair, her pale lips, and her small body. She could also recall her voice, strangely high for someone her size. As well as her jasmine scent-she never had a jasmine perfume, but for some reason the flower’s scent always lingered around her. She thought of everything her lover said or thought of. She remembered her paintings and how her brows crunched in concentration as she worked. The loud music filling the room, the smell of paint, the grand mess she made.

She brought back to mind every detail she could as if they were from ages ago, not a mere week. She had to leave their shared apartment for a week to visit her parents in the country. Her father was ill, but thankfully it was nothing serious. He had recovered from his setback 4 days after she had arrived, but she missed her parents and decided to stay the week.

She understood that, and she was happy for her too-truly happy. But that didn’t make the time pass faster or the waiting easier. She spent the week busying herself with her studies, and when she had none more to do, she tidied up the apartment. But that often made her miss her more, as she would stumble on her things and her clothes. So she went out for walks, sat reading in cafes at a table in the corner, and did her best to let the time pass.

Coming back home late, she’d make dinner and surf the internet while eating it. She made a point of getting home late and tiring herself out during the day. As much as she loved their apartment, she felt herself smothered inside it this whole week. The lights felt dim, the air stuffy, the silence ominous. It made her think that one day, this apartment is going to be empty. That one day, she’s going to lose her. The thought was unbearable to her and she usually went to bed immediately when these storms started swirling in her mind. It wasn’t that she had no contact with her lover over the week. They texted-lengthily and daily. She had little to tell her, her daily routine without her was boring so she mostly listened. She sounded upbeat, happy, and enjoying her time. That always lifted her spirit, even if it made her miss her more and gave her a pang as she tried to shrug these selfish thoughts. Nonetheless, talking to her made her at ease. The apartment wouldn’t feel as bad, even if she weren’t physically there, she was still with her. She knew that a corny thing to think, but it was true. Once their talks ended-late at night-she simply took a hot shower and went to bed, usually falling asleep immediately (she was tired, and the shower helped). The next day would be another repeat until she comes back. She kept a steady countdown, that seemed to last too long, albeit she knew it was only seven days.

A cat slithered under the bench. It was white with a patch of brown over its right eye, and another on the tip of its tail. It glanced up at her once, then sat doing, closed its eyes and looked ahead. It sat there sleeping, enjoying the breeze and the shade. She decided to do the same. She closed her eyes and let the wind ruffle her short hair. A memory came back to her, the earliest memory of her lover.  It wasn’t their first date. It wasn’t even the first time she saw her. It was, possibly selectively, her earliest memory of her lover. Not of her as a person, but her as someone she wanted to love and hold.

It was drizzling on a spring morning. She was on her way to her room when she spotted her sitting on the ground in the domed pathway. She was wearing a transparent poncho and in her hands she was holding a sketchpad. Every now and then she would look up, stare at the misty scenery before her, then resume her sketching. She wasn’t sketching the scenery, that much was obvious. She was drawing inspiration from it, to sketch whatever idea was crossing her mind as she looked and listened. Under her poncho she was reading a knitted beige scarf, an oversized winter jacket and khaki pants. What was the poncho for, she thought? Then she noticed a beige backpack sitting behind her. She caught herself staring and hurried on. The girl didn’t seem to notice her at all. That level of engrossment made her heart beat fast, she was hooked.

Over the next few days, she’d see her around campus. She realized that she was probably seeing her every day since day one, but only yesterday did she come to notice her. To unintentionally look for her. She often saw her sitting on the ground somewhere, with her sketchpad. Seldom did she seem to be sitting around people, but mostly she seemed to prefer the secluded spots around campus. She knew that because she, as well, sought those secluded spots. Not long after, they spoke. The two of them were always alone, always in the same spots. A month later, they started dating, and a month after that they moved into the same apartment.

She opened her eyes abruptly as she heard a faint metallic clink behind and soft footsteps behind her. She whipped around to see her approaching with a full smile on her face. She seemed embarrassed to smile, but that wasn’t the case. She always held her emotions back; the smile itself meant a great deal. She grinned back at her, and her cheeks feeling warm, she got up quickly and bounded to her, hugging her tightly. Under the bench, the cat looked slightly irritated, opening an eye. She was hugged with equal force and warmth as she closed her eyes and took her in-warm, small body, jasmine smell, and long curly hair lashing the side of her face. The thought of her presence made her giddy. She opened her eyes and stepped back, staring at her, still grinning. She looked beautiful as usual; blue plaid shirt, clean white-blond hair, pale twitching lips, clear forest green eyes, and a single small mole on her cheek. She was overjoyed to see her like this-unchanged, safe, beautiful.

They walked together to the bench, each taking a side. The cat closed its eyes again, the concept of romantic privacy foreign to its mind. They sat in silence for a moment, taking in the scenery and the fact that they were together, sitting side by side. Before she could speak, her partner opened her mouth and said: “I got you something.” She bent down to the large bag by her feet, unzipped it, and took from it a small box of chocolate and a pocket book. She handed them to her. Holding them gently, she inspected them. Sea salt dark chocolate and a poetry collection by Rumi. She was pleasantly surprised at the thoughtfulness, even though she should get used to it by now. They’ve been dating for almost four months now, and her partner knew everything about her. “Thank you”, she said as she met her eyes. The other girl merely nodded, like it was nothing. “Open the book.”

She did as she was told. The pages seemed to be bookmarked by something, and sure they were. Almost in the middle, there was a single dried rose. She held it up gingerly. It was withered and beautiful, and the books white paper accentuated its colors. It was dead, but gave the impression that it was content to be so if such a thing served the happiness of another person-or that might be her being selfish in her love. Putting them gently beside her, she turned to her lover and with no warning, kissed her lips. A couple of seconds later, she broke away from her. “I missed you.” She told her. “And now that you’re here, I am lost as to what to do with you. I want to talk to you, but I also want to enjoy your mere presence. I want to kiss you, but I also want to simply admire you from this side.”
The blonde girl said nothing for a moment. She blushed and stared at her. “We have the time for all of this. Let’s sit here for a while. We’ll talk and kiss and love back at home.” She told her. “We’d also be disturbing the cat’s nap.” She added as she looked at white cat sitting underneath them. The cat meowed softly in confirmation.

So they sat, their hands touching, the wind hitting their faces. They spoke a little bit of nothing in particular. In fragments of “love you” and “miss you” and other alternatives. “I saw a hedgehog that reminded me of you” one would say. Or “I saw a shirt you’d have liked”. One hand on top of the other’s, one head on the other’s shoulder, blonde curls spilling and with the other’s arm around her shoulder, they sat like this for a while.

They neglected the passage of time; they were in their own little bubble, locked away from the world. When they could no longer bear it, the silence, the gentle limited touches, and yearned for more, the two glanced at each other and got up. Holding hands, they walked back to the apartment. Though they were full of want, they didn’t hurry. The two young lovers took their time walking back, walking slowly and surely out of the campus into their own private nest. The cat also got up and walked away, following the two lovers at a distance. They didn’t look back, but they knew it was following them. They laughed shortly and resumed their pace.

 

 

Author's Note

I'm only posting this here for other reasons, so I have not reviewed since the last I published it. It's not a draft. Any notes are welcome