Ah, exams. Great time, huh? Thanks for sticking with me, and for your continued support.
The lyrics at the end of this chapter are the song "As Lovers Go" by Dashboard Confessional, from their CD A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Here you go," Nicholas said, putting a steaming mug in front of me. Less than half an hour later, we were at a nearby coffee shop. It was busy inside, but things moved pretty quickly. He sat down across from me, but neither of us said anything. I allowed myself to look at him properly for the first time. He was younger than I had originally assumed, but still at least in his early twenties- I guess under the circumstances I had met him, anyone would have looked older. The messed hair that I had remembered was now controlled, normal. His dark hair matched his brown eyes. As I had said before, he was baby-faced, and he had a mole on the right side of his face, almost lined up with his mouth. Very Enrique Iglesais, and very cute. He was taller then I remembered- easily five or six inches taller than me. He wore a green shirt and a leather jacket, and I realized for the first time just how built he was- I almost ran off when I saw that. Memories of Dean- older guys, stronger, me thinking that they're okay- struck me hard. But I wanted to see what he had to say.
"How did your sister's funeral go?"
He didn't seem surprised by the question. He was always ready for whatever I had to say. "It went as well as a funeral could, I guess. Most of her school came."
"How old was she?"
"Fifteen." He still look tired, drawn, but he looked better than the past times I'd seem him. I picked up the mug- bowl really- of coffee and took a sip. It was good coffee.
"What about you mom's?"
I shrugged. "Same. I don't really remember it."
"I hated how everyone made it about me," he finally said. "How am I doing? How do I feel. They bring a disgusting amount of bad food."
"Like anyone actually eats that many casseroles."
He smiled, but it quickly faded. "It's not me that died."
"It's like they've suddenly become perfect. They could do on harm. Everyone wants to talk about all the good stuff. But that's not who they were. At least not all they were. I loved my mom, but she wasn't a saint."
He nodded and took a sip of his own coffee, never breaking his gaze.
"I think the teachers get the top prize for 'dealing' with this. How are you, how are you doing, oh, it's such a tragedy, so here's the past month's work, but tell me if it's too much. Oh, you poor dear."
"My professors couldn't care less. I don't think they even know. They just pile on the work and expect that I keep up."
"Why does it have to be such a taboo thing?" I asked. "There are the people who ask, but don't want answers."
"Death scares people."
I nodded. "I think my brother's dealing with this worse than anyone else. He just- it's like it doesn't affect him. And then I found him crying the other night. What's with this whole male-ego thing?"
He shrugged. "It's not about ego. Well, it can be, but. . . look at everyone else in that support group. I guess we all have to deal with it in our own way."
"This sucks," I said softly. This totally and completely sucks."
He nodded. "And things don't seem to be getting easier."
"Not really. And it just seems like everyone's getting more and more annoying." I took another sip. "It's like you're the only person I can talk to." I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I was going to scare him away."
But he didn't flinch. He took another sip of his coffee, and kept his eyes locked with mine. "Do you want to get dinner sometime?"
My jaw nearly dropped. My head raced, then allowed myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Did he mean it like this coffee? Or like a date.
"Unless you have a boyfriend," he added quickly when he saw my hesitation.
I shook my head. "Nothing like that. I studied him again. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two," he said, not ashamed or embarrassed, but his voice clear, confident.
"Look, I appreciate the offer, but if you're looking for some naive high school student, I'm not her. You're wasting your time."
"That's not what I'm looking for."
"So what, you're into younger girls?"
He shrugged. "It's not about age. It's not even about your looks- I mean, you are gorgeous, but that's not why I'm asking you out."
"Then what is it?" I asked softly, feeling myself slipping into his earnest look, his deep blue eyes.
"Because after everything that's happened lately, it feels like you're the only one who understands me. And that's not something I feel very often." I didn't say anything. It was true. I felt the same way. "Look, I'm finishing my degree in social work this year at Ryerson, I play Rugby, and I have no criminal history." He picked up his napkin and pulled a pen out of his pocket, then scribbled something on it. "If you're ever interested, or you need to talk, give me a call," he said, getting up, and gently putting it down in front of me. "Thanks for the company."
I looked down at the napkin in front of me, then back at the figure walking towards the door. The same voice in my head that had been yelling at me not to go out for coffee with him, was yelling at me to stop him. This time I listened. Without taking anything I had left around the table, I ran after him, and caught him just before he reached for the door handle.
"Listen," I said softly. "I didn't mean for you to leave. I just. . . I was surprised. And if you can take into consideration that I need to take things slowly right now. . . I'd love to have dinner with you."
He smiled that amazing smile. "I'd like that."
For once, I smiled back. And it felt right. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."
"You're an amazing person, Paige." Before I had a chance to think about it, he brought his hand to the small of my back, and quickly kissed me on the cheek. Then he was gone.
And through the homework that night, and the crappy day the next day, I could still feel his lips on my cheek.
She said, "I've got to be honest, you're wasting your time if you're fishing around here."
And I said, "You must be mistaken, I'm not fooling this feeling is real."
She said, "You've got to be crazy! What do you take me for? Some kind of easy mark?"
"No, you've got wits, you've got looks, you've got passion, but I swear that you've got me all wrong."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I'll be true, I'll be useful, I'll be cavalier, I'll be yours my dear,
I'll belong to you if you just let me through.
This is easy as lovers go so don't complicate it by hesitating.
This is wonderful as loving goes.
This is tailor-made, what's the sense in waiting?
I said, "I've got to be honest, I've been waiting for you all my life."
For so long I thought I was asylum bound, but just seeing you makes me think twice.
And being with you here makes me sane. I fear I'll go crazy if you leave my side.
"You've got wits, you've got looks, you've got passion,
but are you brave enough to leave with me tonight?"
The lyrics at the end of this chapter are the song "As Lovers Go" by Dashboard Confessional, from their CD A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Here you go," Nicholas said, putting a steaming mug in front of me. Less than half an hour later, we were at a nearby coffee shop. It was busy inside, but things moved pretty quickly. He sat down across from me, but neither of us said anything. I allowed myself to look at him properly for the first time. He was younger than I had originally assumed, but still at least in his early twenties- I guess under the circumstances I had met him, anyone would have looked older. The messed hair that I had remembered was now controlled, normal. His dark hair matched his brown eyes. As I had said before, he was baby-faced, and he had a mole on the right side of his face, almost lined up with his mouth. Very Enrique Iglesais, and very cute. He was taller then I remembered- easily five or six inches taller than me. He wore a green shirt and a leather jacket, and I realized for the first time just how built he was- I almost ran off when I saw that. Memories of Dean- older guys, stronger, me thinking that they're okay- struck me hard. But I wanted to see what he had to say.
"How did your sister's funeral go?"
He didn't seem surprised by the question. He was always ready for whatever I had to say. "It went as well as a funeral could, I guess. Most of her school came."
"How old was she?"
"Fifteen." He still look tired, drawn, but he looked better than the past times I'd seem him. I picked up the mug- bowl really- of coffee and took a sip. It was good coffee.
"What about you mom's?"
I shrugged. "Same. I don't really remember it."
"I hated how everyone made it about me," he finally said. "How am I doing? How do I feel. They bring a disgusting amount of bad food."
"Like anyone actually eats that many casseroles."
He smiled, but it quickly faded. "It's not me that died."
"It's like they've suddenly become perfect. They could do on harm. Everyone wants to talk about all the good stuff. But that's not who they were. At least not all they were. I loved my mom, but she wasn't a saint."
He nodded and took a sip of his own coffee, never breaking his gaze.
"I think the teachers get the top prize for 'dealing' with this. How are you, how are you doing, oh, it's such a tragedy, so here's the past month's work, but tell me if it's too much. Oh, you poor dear."
"My professors couldn't care less. I don't think they even know. They just pile on the work and expect that I keep up."
"Why does it have to be such a taboo thing?" I asked. "There are the people who ask, but don't want answers."
"Death scares people."
I nodded. "I think my brother's dealing with this worse than anyone else. He just- it's like it doesn't affect him. And then I found him crying the other night. What's with this whole male-ego thing?"
He shrugged. "It's not about ego. Well, it can be, but. . . look at everyone else in that support group. I guess we all have to deal with it in our own way."
"This sucks," I said softly. This totally and completely sucks."
He nodded. "And things don't seem to be getting easier."
"Not really. And it just seems like everyone's getting more and more annoying." I took another sip. "It's like you're the only person I can talk to." I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I was going to scare him away."
But he didn't flinch. He took another sip of his coffee, and kept his eyes locked with mine. "Do you want to get dinner sometime?"
My jaw nearly dropped. My head raced, then allowed myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Did he mean it like this coffee? Or like a date.
"Unless you have a boyfriend," he added quickly when he saw my hesitation.
I shook my head. "Nothing like that. I studied him again. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two," he said, not ashamed or embarrassed, but his voice clear, confident.
"Look, I appreciate the offer, but if you're looking for some naive high school student, I'm not her. You're wasting your time."
"That's not what I'm looking for."
"So what, you're into younger girls?"
He shrugged. "It's not about age. It's not even about your looks- I mean, you are gorgeous, but that's not why I'm asking you out."
"Then what is it?" I asked softly, feeling myself slipping into his earnest look, his deep blue eyes.
"Because after everything that's happened lately, it feels like you're the only one who understands me. And that's not something I feel very often." I didn't say anything. It was true. I felt the same way. "Look, I'm finishing my degree in social work this year at Ryerson, I play Rugby, and I have no criminal history." He picked up his napkin and pulled a pen out of his pocket, then scribbled something on it. "If you're ever interested, or you need to talk, give me a call," he said, getting up, and gently putting it down in front of me. "Thanks for the company."
I looked down at the napkin in front of me, then back at the figure walking towards the door. The same voice in my head that had been yelling at me not to go out for coffee with him, was yelling at me to stop him. This time I listened. Without taking anything I had left around the table, I ran after him, and caught him just before he reached for the door handle.
"Listen," I said softly. "I didn't mean for you to leave. I just. . . I was surprised. And if you can take into consideration that I need to take things slowly right now. . . I'd love to have dinner with you."
He smiled that amazing smile. "I'd like that."
For once, I smiled back. And it felt right. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."
"You're an amazing person, Paige." Before I had a chance to think about it, he brought his hand to the small of my back, and quickly kissed me on the cheek. Then he was gone.
And through the homework that night, and the crappy day the next day, I could still feel his lips on my cheek.
She said, "I've got to be honest, you're wasting your time if you're fishing around here."
And I said, "You must be mistaken, I'm not fooling this feeling is real."
She said, "You've got to be crazy! What do you take me for? Some kind of easy mark?"
"No, you've got wits, you've got looks, you've got passion, but I swear that you've got me all wrong."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I'll be true, I'll be useful, I'll be cavalier, I'll be yours my dear,
I'll belong to you if you just let me through.
This is easy as lovers go so don't complicate it by hesitating.
This is wonderful as loving goes.
This is tailor-made, what's the sense in waiting?
I said, "I've got to be honest, I've been waiting for you all my life."
For so long I thought I was asylum bound, but just seeing you makes me think twice.
And being with you here makes me sane. I fear I'll go crazy if you leave my side.
"You've got wits, you've got looks, you've got passion,
but are you brave enough to leave with me tonight?"
