He had arrived. Called me up from my building lobby and asked me to open the door while he was on his way up. I did. And there he stood before me, that (according to me) beautiful and majestic creature. I remember what he was wearing, and I still know how he smelled. The moment I opened the first door I could see him through the grills of the second, covering the areas of his face. My heartbeat slowed down and then gathered pace. And I could tell this irregular beating would become a norm when he was around me. Butterflies. I knew it in that very moment.
Once he was inside, he immediately gave me a casual nod and his famous, stupid grin. That was the first time that grin didn’t make me wince or feel like he was the devil, about to eat me. I had worked hard on the ambience. I didn’t want to make it seem like I had changed anything about myself or anything around the house for him. I purposely had my hair tied up and I was wearing my loose Beatles shirt and a very simple pair of beige shorts. Okay, so I wanted him to notice my one asset I was extremely proud of. The one thing that wouldn’t have me giving away too much: my legs!
Call me a prude, but I allowed him to come over only when we could meet a certain set of conditions, set by me. I meant business that day. And more importantly, no mixing business with pleasure.
Okay, so *drum roll* it was a study date. No, not even using the word ‘date’. How hard could it be for two teenagers to control their hormonal urges in an empty house? (which turns me on already, because it is so rare) My conscience was proud of me for laying down the law. And to my delight, we had cut ourselves a deal! (which was an even bigger turn on because rules are meant to be broken)
Did I mention how important this exam was for me? My life basically depended on it. Boy (for the lack of a better name) could not have had a more timely entry into my life.
This Boy had become my closest friend, my favourite person and my everything, in every sense of the word, within just a month. I was just so used to him, I spoke about anything under the sun with him. Being the awkward, insecure female that I am, I had learned not to read into things too much to avoid disappointment and heartbreak, the hard way. But that is another story.
So when we spoke (and spoke and spoke and spoke), even if there were sparks between us, I couldn’t dwell on them or flirt even though I could come up with diva-like punchlines in my head. Still, very obviously, something was off when he, instead of making jokes and insulting me, started stuffing bits of uncalled-for sweet nothings into the conversation. I tried to tell myself that it was all in my head, and that it was best to ignore that stuff so there is no discomfort. But how long could that last? I brought it up one day.
I only said I was getting mixed vibes and Boy should really stop making it so awkward. That night we promised we’d be friends forever and nothing more. Then reviewing what had been said (and you sure as hell can’t take it back) I was SO disheartened. But my mind and body don’t work in sync (come to think of it, this explains why I suck at most sports) and I was overtly expressive of how glad I was that we had finally locked down all the tension I had been feeling.
That we were never, ever, ever, ever going to date. That was the best (read: worst) ultimatum. So it slipped out in one of the next few days that “never” was too strong a word. And the rest is history. After all that, we finally come to this day.
The *first* time we met after our feelings of fondness for each other had been declared.
I just took one look at him and all my worries melted away. All those scary thoughts about failing in the exam were gone and I just wanted to plant a big passionate kiss on him. Then my conscience came screaming into my head – YOU ARE SO SCREWED! Whose idea was this, anyway? What. A. Dumbfuck. You know you aren’t going to end up studying and… Oh, shut up!
He leaned in for a hug and I gave a short, casual one. I was desperately trying to act like I had things under control so I quickly went over to the table and asked him to join me there. He came and sat right next to me. So close, very close, almost too close. Why was he doing this to me?
I opened the books, acting like I hardly realized where he was positioned (so close to me, damn!). Sum number 1. I was reading it aloud and not really paying attention. There came my conscience again – OH GREAT, you’re screwing this up for him too? You idiot, why did you agree to tutor him!?
What the fuck am I reading out loud? And of course, I couldn’t solve that sum, because all I could concentrate on, from the side of my right eye, was his gaze into the book and his overpowering, beautiful aroma. Moving on… this happened again. Another sum, another failed attempt at solving it. My conscience was laughing at my idiocy, the bitch that she was, by saying – You look so dumb to him now! Good work, soldier!
And then he kissed me on the cheek. Part of me said – What took you so long? And the other part was busy swooning. I was relieved; I wasn’t the only one fighting to concentrate. But wait, I had to keep it all together! We were not going to be irresponsible animals. We did another sum. He got that one, I didn’t. Oh well, someone’s learning. He then suggested that we’d play that silly game but he sold the idea to me so well.
He said that every time we got a sum right, we would kiss. I protested a little until he slipped the motivation angle. Damn, I was such a sucker! I was sold, knowing fully well that I was going to regret it. There’s something so tempting about doing the wrong thing while being fully aware of it. Things escalated from then, like crazy! We both still recall that day fondly and admit that it was one of the nicest afternoons we had both had.
It was our first date after all. Yep, I am adding ‘date’ back to it.