He watched her, from a hundred miles in an hour to asleep in a nanosecond. He wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the bed, to wrap his arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Not even make love. Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But he lacked the courage, and she had a boyfriend and he was gawky and she was gorgeous and he was hopelessly boring, and she was endlessly fascinating. She scared the hell out of him and calmed his soul at the same time. Maybe, that’s what love is, a total contradiction that somehow balances out. So he walked back to his room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, he was drizzle and she was a hurricane.
And she watched him perpetually fluttered in his hearts of hearts and minds of minds between whether to do what seems right or to follow his heart and go for the kill (read: confession of his love). Observing the surreal ordeals he was going through, she laughed hastily, not because she wanted to seize his attention and distress him by the loud noise but because she hoped that maybe, just maybe he’ll fall for her laughter as hard as she did for his and hopefully, his dilemma would be resolved. He would probably then inherently and successfully argue it out to himself, so what if she had a boyfriend with whom she had made out on several occasions. He assured himself to intensely believe that wherever his thoughts led him to, be an evergreen path. But, it was the road not taken, he reminded himself. It was the way of life that killed him yet made him feel alive. And, alive is awesome. He recollected all the romantic movies’ cheesiest dialogues he had heard ever, dashed towards the heap of books lying on the floor jacketed with dust for some refuge. He muttered all those lines from the love stories which he dismissed as trash someday earlier, thinking to himself about his naivete in the yesteryear. Those lines were now whimsical.
And he read it out loud: “We don’t have sex. We don’t fuck. We don’t even make love. What we do is align planets. Create galaxies. Out shine stars. Give birth to solar systems. Shift the universe. Have planets orbit around us. Cause shooting stars to make wishes upon us. Discover new worlds. Make the time travel. Become alpha and omega.”
“We need to regularly have orgasms of insight, discovery, revelation and understanding intended for the person we claim to love.”, chewed the other book. He exclaimed in the affirmation with all the text he was reading for the nth time but was absorbing for the very first.
Those words shined brighter in the periphery of his eyes. They emitted light this time too. After all, he’d looked at her in a way all girls want to be looked at. He was bamboozled in the thick of things but he vociferated the unsaid like a knight would to his warriors or a minister in a political rally or a cheerleader in a house packed stadium or simply, just as he had panned out to do at the age of 8 if he’d found true love.
Now, he was afraid. Afraid like chimes in the wind when the winds lips are sealed. Afraid like dreams when they realize they’re just dreams and reality is that one scar that’ll never fade away. Afraid that she wasn’t the one he had idealized to do life with as a kid. She had flaws, but now that seemed okay. She was fierce, she was strong. She wasn’t the kind who would embrace him in emergent situations and lay back on him. She would get right back up to the scenario and take up the responsibility, and embrace him still. But with an I-can-do-things-on-my-own-and-i-love-you-still attitude. He thought and thought, maybe it won’t work out but maybe seeing if it does would be the best adventure ever. And, soon he survived the tornado of his thoughts, and enlightened himself with a before and after she’d marked in his life. She had made him question things that never appeared like one before.
This was a modern fairy tale. No happy endings, no wind in our sails. But he couldn’t imagine his life without, those breathless moments breaking him down, down, and down. The heart wants what it wants. So, finally he walked up to the cold bed where she laid and slept warm and close. Yes, he slept. Just slept with her. He didn’t fuck, like in those movies. Not even had sex.