---this is pure work of fiction---
This blog is usually to give order to my thoughts, and the events described are ones that happened.
This ain't. It's just some personal rambling, and things I wish would happened, so I wrote them down like it was a story; that is how I always exorcize my demons.
Oh gosh. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh.
I have been imagining -dreaming- this moment for months. Never thought it could actually happen. And now I am panicking. Of course! What do I do?!
You're standing there, nonchalantly; staring at the air or something I can't see, your hat just like I remembered it -or maybe it's a different one, who knows.
Ok, this is it. It's the perfect chance, I can't let it slip away. I have to talk to you. I have been obsessing about this, hoping to see you again, expecting you around every corner; it's not like I can walk away now, I'd regret it forever. Again. Goddammit, it can't be that difficult, can it?
I can still recall the feel of your hands on my hips and the salt of your sweat on my lips. This would just talking. And we're in public. Ok, that doesn't count, given what happened last time.
On we go.
Luckily, there's plenty of people around us -but not too many as to make difficult to make my way through the crowd, just enough so you don't see me walking towards you.
And then I'm there standing, and while I work up the courage to actually say something, you must have sensed my presence, because you turn towards me.
"HI-" I falter.
"Hiya"- and you brush away the hair from your eyes like you always do.
Damn you and that accent Irish accent of yours - sweet and thick like caramel and I swear, it has the same effect on me. If I didn't know what to say before, this sure isn't helping.
While my brain panics while searching for something plausible to say -anything, at this point; you discretely yet obviously look me up and down in what I hope is an appreciative manner. You look amused, possibly because by now I must be blushing like a fire idrant.
"Maybe you don't remember me..." I start .
"Oh, I sure remember you" and then that half grin again. You have no intention of making this easy on me, are you? Dammit.
I was already prepared to explain the circumstances of our last (and first, at it) meeting, to buy myself some time and see if it rang any bell for you; and if it did, just with which feelings you recalled it. Were you mad at me for running off like that? If you didn't recollect who I was - where did we meet, what did we do - I could have just left with some excuse.
But now you have me cornered -although not quite literally, not this time- and I have to come clean.
"...I am sorry I left like that." The million excuses I had made up in my mind, all the things I thought of telling you back then, are gone now. You keep silent, apparently determined not to help me in one bit (are you still upset? If you ever were?). Or maybe you just want to see what am I getting at. About that, I am not even sure I know myself; so good luck to you.
"If it helps, I have been regretting it since then.-" Still no response. Dammit man! "So I was wondering..." I hesitate, trying to read your expression (and failing, so I continue) "...if you'd like to have coffee some time. Maybe. That is, with me." - now I can feel the redness creeping up my neck to my cheeks and I feel even more silly; but I can't take my eyes off of you, craving for an answer and trying to get any hint of one from your face.
You don't reply, for those that seem like endless minutes but probably are just a couple of seconds; then your beard splits in a flash of white teeth and you're smiling -nay, grinning- at me. "I would like that very much."
I smile back to you -really, I don't even want to know how ridiculous I look right now- and I mumble something ;"Good", possibly. Then I turn to leave, trying to hide just how wide my smile is and how happy I am - I don't even know why. "Wait!" and I feel the slightest touch of fingers on my wrist, like your hand went to take it and you changed your mind halfway through.
Maybe you changed your mind about all of it? Maybe all this was a play, you're just making fun of me. Or a sort of sick revenge. Now you're going to ask my name, because you don't know -ultimately- who am I, and how do we even know each other. I knew I had to leave it like it was, I should have never come and talk to you; this could only have ended badly; why did I even do it!?
"How about you leave me your number?- " I feel a rush of relief so sudden and so overwhelming that I am surprised I'm even still stranding up straight. Which is not unusual, when you're around. "I let you go once, I am not making the same mistake again.".