Her name was Tarja and she resembled an angel in every aspect of life. She had an infectious smile and a stunning aura that radiated around her being, reached out, scooped you up, and made you feel worth something. You only had to be near her to feel a happiness settle in your gut and a pleasant warmth to cradle your heart. At least, these were the emotions swirling around Berwald's chest.
The teen observed Tarja glide by with her short blonde hair and blue doe eyes. She took no notice to Berwald's gaze as she went to her locker before the last class of the day. He watched as she poked her tongue out in slight frustration when her books got jammed together and she couldn't dislodge them; however, her miniature quandary was short lived when her best friend, an exchange student from Estonia, came to her rescue. He felt his heart drop to his stomach when Eduard reached over her and grabbed the book for her next class with ease, not realizing how lucky he should feel when around Tarja. Berwald could have done exactly the same if he wasn't so worried he would scare the beauty away –most people became very panicky around him, for he always kept the same stoic expression planted on his face and rarely spoke.
Berwald's eyes never left Tarja as she walked to her next class alone –the same room where Berwald was heading to. He trailed far behind her and cast suspicious glances to every boy whose eyes lingered too long on her body. He started thinking that her body did have very striking and beautiful features, like her long muscular legs, and didn't hold anything bad against the many gawking boys.
Tarja entered the physics room, visibly upset. She loathed physics and looked forward to every inch the large hand on the clock made on its journey to the predominant six that would chime 2:30 –the end of the school day. It was always too cold, too sterile in the room that belonged to the egotistical physics teacher. Throughout the lesson, she felt eyes on her, sending shivers up her spine; she always felt like this in the class. Although it wasn't such a bad feeling, she wondered who could be the one to give her these slight chills.
"Alright everyone, get into groups of two," the teacher told the class. After a short pause, "Now, or do I have to assign them?"
The students all around Tarja jumped up and ran to their friends, leaving Tarja feeling befuddled and without a partner. She whipped her head back and forth, searching for somebody to save her from being the tall, creepy kid's partner. When no rescue came, she hung her head in defeat and slouched over to the blond Swedish teenager who always seemed to have a scowl on his face. Upon sitting down next to him, she forced a half-smile and felt a bead of sweat run down her neck.
"E-Eh… I guess w-we're partners," she told Berwald in a stuttering voice.
His reply was but a grunt. Berwald had never seen a more stunning face –beside his mother of course. She averted her eyes and a roseate hue dusted her cheeks. While she was busy feeling unnerved, Berwald was all but forgotten and set about doing the work. He would cast shy glances every now and then, and she would be fiddling with the frills on her blouse or trying to help with the work. Eventually the atmosphere around them became almost palpable; Berwald couldn't take it any longer. "Are ya OK? Ya seem a bit upset," he said in his thick Swedish accent –this being the reason he kept his mouth shut since moving from Sweden to America a few years back.
Tarja squeaked and jumped in her seat when Berwald's deep, accentuated voice jolted her from her reverie. He seemed to be staring her down, just daring her to answer. Yet, when she looked up to his ice blue eyes, they gave off a calming air, and he seemed a little less intimidating. "Y-yeah," she said and cleared her throat. "I'm fine," she broke the intimate eye contact and continued with, "Thanks for asking. I'm really sorry for not helping though." The bell to leave rung just then and she stood to start gathering her things in a rush.
Berwald's couldn't break the stare of Tarja's beautiful orbs; he realized with a start that there was a purplish color in there, battling the blue for dominance. When she replied and stood to leave, Berwald went with her, partnering worksheet forgotten as well as his good judgment. "If yer really sorry, then how's about ya do me a favor?" Tarja looked quite hesitant at this; nonetheless, she stayed to hear him out. "Let me treat ya. How's Italian?"
Tarja's mouth moved but made no noise. She felt quite stunned and from the redness of her face, flattered too. Her ultimate goal in school was to get straight A's. The rational part of her pointed out that she indeed did not have any homework tonight. "Eh, why not?" she said. "Sure, I'll go with you. What time did you have in mind?"
It was Berwald's turn to feel taken aback; he stuttered, not knowing what to say. "Today's Friday, right? Then A'll pick ya up at six," he said after he composed himself. "Ah drove t'day, so how 'bout Ah drop ya off ta see where ya live?" he stated as an afterthought, to which Tarja nodded in return.
They set off together after gathering their things. Berwald couldn't believe he finally got the guts to ask her instead of stalking her throughout the halls. He was starting to feellike that humongous, trench-coat-wearing Russian kid who always had a reason to shadow that small Chinese boy. Berwald shuddered inwardly; he wasn't that much of a creep. A blond, red-faced teen shoved past him followed by another yelling obnoxiously, "Aw, c'mon, Artie! I didn't mean it that way!" The halls were very congested and almost overflowing with people; he and Tarja couldn't help but be pressed close together, else they'd misplace each other. He felt a comfortable warmness fill his hand and looked down as if to question why that was so.
Tarja almost lost the tall Swede when he was suddenly shoved aside. She thought that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to divulge herself in this Berwald, and she wrapped her fingers around his in a tight grasp. When he looked down in surprise, she sent him the sweetest smile she could muster. She wasn't good at flirting, that much she knew, but Tarja was tired of never having any fun. Sure, she was terrified of this boy, but his spectacled eyes seemed so gentle and amiable; she wanted to see how innate his stoniness ran.
Berwald drove to Tarja's home without any further incident; it was a tiny place, more of a cottage really. She raised her eyebrow at him, as if daring him to judge her; he didn't. Tarja living in a homey cottage was actually very appealing, and it suited her very well. "Six, then," he said.
"I'll be waiting," she replied with a small smirk and deposited herself out of Berwald's slightly battered Volvo 850.
Six o'clock came exceedingly fast for Tarja's fancy. As soon as she walked into the sedative atmosphere of home and calmed down from the adrenaline high of doing something out of her norm, she started panicking. How could she have accepted Berwald's offer? He's creepy! Well, she scolded herself, I've always been told not to judge a book by its cover. She spent a couple hours debating on cancelling, but the digital clock next to her light blue bed yelled a blatant 5:30 P.M. Tarja jumped up and ran about her room like a chicken without its head, looking for decent clothes to wear. She had just pulled her first ballet flat on her foot when the doorbell reverberated throughout the house. After pulling the other shoe on quickly, she wrenched the door open to reveal the stoic, spectacled face of Berwald.
The doorbell had barely finished ringing when the chipped, white door pulled open to expose Tarja in all her beauty. She wore a pink lacey chemise –was she always this busty? –and a dark cardigan with a short pink skirt and black flats. Panting slightly from rushing, she mustered out the words, "I'm ready when you are." Berwald offered her a clothed arm and nodded in the direction of his car.
They set out to the small Italian restaurant in relative silence. Tarja felt extremely nervous as this was her first date, and Berwald stayed unspoken as always. Like earlier in the day, he would cast small glances toward the girl in the passenger seat. Being closed up in the small space, Berwald could sense the natural strawberry aroma that always followed Tarja around like her shadow; he drew it in like it was sustenance for life.
Tarja shivered in anticipation; she had never experienced being so worked up for something that wasn't schoolwork. Fiddling with the lace on her blouse, she pursed her glossed lips and tried to stay calm. Images of gurgling streams and pleasant hillsides permeated her mind, and almost at once she felt much more relaxed. She leaned into the seat some more and turned her head to look at the concentrated driver to her left. She threw away all things from her mind that people had warned her about Berwald and just stared intently. Berwald was really quite handsome, and if you looked closer behind those glasses and piercing gaze, he seemed warm-hearted and benevolent. She didn't know him that well, but from just being around him today she noticed he had little quirks to tell what he felt: a lip twitch for happiness, a raised eyebrow when he felt questioning was due, and she supposed his eye would probably twitch when angry. She decided then: I should really try to be less fearful of him and give this a serious shot.
Berwald heard a tiny sigh and a rustling of fabric. He resisted looking over since he had just driven into the busier section of town and didn't want to risk getting into an accident. As soon as he sensed the familiar prickling sensation that told him he was being watched, he stiffened –more so than normal. He resisted looking over until the car had been safely parked. Tarja couldn't stop gazing at this fetching boy. Only when she heard a slight grunt did she break out of her trance.
"Ya ready to go in, then?" Berwald muttered to the flushed lady in the passenger seat. His heart fluttered nervously when he caught her staring at him, and now she looked quite embarrassed. They went in and ordered from the bubbly server without any complications or further incidence. Berwald turned to his date and asked, "So, tell me about yerself."
Tarja nodded nervously and told Berwald about her quiet home, the never ending battle for good grades, and the anxiety she held when it came to university next year. Berwald listened to her, lips twitching about her home and grades and brow furrowing slightly about her anxiety. He hated when she was in distress; she was beautiful either happy or sad, but he only wanted happiness for the girl.
"Your turn," Tarja declared suddenly. "I feel like I've been talking for forever." She talked all throughout the main meal. Berwald spoke about his late father, taking care of his mother, and working part-time at IKEA in his deep accentuated voice. He didn't mind talking this much around Tarja; he felt comfortable and at ease around her.
Tarja was in awe. This teenager had done so much for his family and wanted to do more for a complete stranger like Tarja. She supposed they weren't strangers anymore, but that didn't stop the fact that Berwald was an extremely kind, good-natured person, though terribly misunderstood by the supercilious teens at school. She couldn't turn a chance at first love away because she was terrified. You'll never have any fun in life if you don't take a chance, she told herself austerely.
Her cheeks felt extremely warm, and she imagined they were glowing when Berwald drove her home. He opened her car door in an attempt at chivalry, and the walk to her house was drawn-out and long. Tarja's heart thudded almost painfully in her chest when they finally reached the white chipped door. Ice-blue eyes met violet for an agonizingly extensive time, each wondering what the other would do. Tarja, being the impatient person she always had been, overcame her fear of the unknown and tilted her face up with pursed lips; Berwald met her halfway in a chaste, electrifying kiss. The door was suddenly thrown open and the teenagers jumped apart in embarrassment. Tarja's mother stood there with a bemused expression that melted into a small knowing smirk. The two teens bade each other goodnight, and both wondered where exactly this would go.