The following is the continuation of the second part of the post I posted a while back titled, "Not a Pilot Episode. More of a Pre-Pilot Episode." Read that one first. Enjoy. = )
“Hey.”
“Mmmmf.”
“Hey.”
I nudge her.
“Mmmmf.” A little more annoyed.
I don’t really like to wake her up, but it is already 4.13. I tickle her side.
“Hey. Wake up.”
She does. She looks up at me, her eyes moist, shiny, even in the dark.
“What time is it?”
“Four thirteen.”
“Damn.”
Thirty seconds pass in silence, both of us unwilling to move. She breaks the tranquility.
“You know, I was kinda hoping you’d fall asleep and not wake us up.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
A smile.
Another thirty seconds of silence.
“Let’s get up.”
“Yes, we should.”
But we don’t. After a while, though, we do. She folds the throwover and I roll the mat up. It is all done without conversation. But we don’t need to talk. The subtle contact of our elbows brushing against each other and our awkward smiles were conversation enough.
“Did we forget anything?” She asks.
“Nope. There’s nothing much to forget, anyway.”
“Where’s the mat?”
“Right here.” I show her the rolled-up mat.
“Okay. Give it here.”
I give her the mat, and she places it under the folded throwover under her arm. The night is cooler than it was before, and the humidity seems to have lessened. Dew is beginning to form on the grass, and she looks very lovely in the moonlight. She is trying to tie her hair with the stuff under her arm, but it isn’t working. I take the things from her, and she smiles and starts to tie her hair.
Every girl ties her hair in a slightly different way, if you can notice it. Girls may learn hair-tying techniques from their mothers and aunts and cousins and one another, but each has her own particular idiosyncrasy when tying her hair. Hers was a strange way of flicking her head when she was done, almost like a shake crossed with a shiver and a little wiggle. I have told her about it, and she denies that she does it, and became very self-conscious about it. But then I told her I liked it, and she stopped being self-conscious after that. It made me think about the significance of the little personal tics and gestures that everybody has. I wondered if I had any.
She finishes tying her hair, and shakes her head.
“Thanks.” She smiles at me again.
“Sure.” I smile back.
A moment passes. She really is very pretty tonight.
“Um.” She purses her lips.
“Yeah?”
“Are you gonna give me those?” She points at the stuff under my arm.
“Oh. Right.”
I hold the stuff out to her. She places her hand on the bundle, but does not take it. Instead, she steps closer to me. I meet her eyes, and she is grinning. I grin back. She comes closer. The stuff begins to feel heavier and my legs seem weaker. Steady, I tell myself. She is so close. Her face is inches from mine, and coming closer. Her breath is warm, and her fringe tickles my forehead. She is so close. She places her hand on my shoulder. So close. Her fingers travel up my neck and tangle with my hair as she pulls me down and our lips touch. My head feels light, and I reach out to hold on gently to her waist for support. All I can see, feel, hear, smell and taste is her. She breaks contact, and we are dazed for a while. She is playing with the hair on the back of my head.
“Wow.”
She breaks her spell. The night returns, but it seems warmer.
“Wow?” I whisper.
“Yes. Wow.”
We stand there a while, our foreheads against each others’. She is smiling, almost to herself, her eyes closed. I am reluctant to remove the hand that has found its way to her waist.
“I have to get back or Lee’ll kill me.”
“Yeah.”
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“I really have to go.”
“Alright.”
I hand her the folded throwover and rolled-up mat. She gently removes my hand from her waist, squeezes it as she lets go. I feel like a drowning man who has just had his life ring pulled away from him.
“Walk me back?”
“Of course.”
I walk her back, and make sure she is safely inside her chalet before starting back for mine.
