Quickly, I kneel down, keeping my eyes to the ground. Feeling so embarrassed by the whole thing, I don’t notice that Mr. Loafers has done the same until we end up knocking heads as we both try reaching for the condoms at the same time.
“Ouch!”
Rubbing my head, I look up at him and watch him mirroring my movements as he tries really hard not to smile. It’s impossible, really. The whole situation is hilarious, so when our eyes meet, my stomach doing Olympic-level pirouettes, we burst out laughing.
When we stop, we stare at each other for a minute too long. Oblivious to the rain falling down on us, I let myself get lost in the moment and in the color of his laughing eyes. It’s almost as if gravity is suspended and we’re floating in slow motion.
I’m thinking of ways to break this electric silence between us when he clears his throat about to speak, and that’s when it happens.
One moment I’m staring into his eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach, and in the next we find ourselves drenched in dirty water from the streets of the Bronx.
Yes.
Slimy, smelly, yucky water is on my hair, my face, my clothes, and all over him as well.
“What the fuck, man!” The beautiful boy shouts after the car that just drove past us splashing us with water. He turns to look at me and lets his eyes stare at my wet t-shirt a little too long before we make eye contact again. Instead of blushing or stammering an apology for so blatantly staring, he grins. “Guess we better move. With our luck, if we linger here any longer we might get struck by lightning.”
I’m slow at reacting as he speaks to me because, for one, I am truly stunned by his low baritone voice, and two, the way the light is hitting his wet hair makes the black curls shine like an expensive mink.
I nod in agreement since it seems I have not only lost my ability to think but also speak. Together, we collect all my belongings and put them away.
Yep, even those stupid condom packages.
Once we are ready to get up, he sticks his hand out, saying, “Let me help you up.”
By the time we’re standing, my hand still in his, we look at each other without moving, one willing the other to say or do something, but nothing happens. The rain continues to fall all around us, more heavily now than before, but it doesn’t seem to faze us. It’s like we’re in our own little time capsule, where everything seems to have stopped. I can barely see his face without constantly wiping the raindrops from my eyes as his very tall figure looms above me.
Slowly, his face moves towards mine. Halfway, he stops and looks at me as if asking for my permission to do what I think he’s about to do. My mind is chanting the words, “Kiss me…Kiss me…” as if they are a holy communion. Throwing all logic and caution to the wind, I close my eyes, stand on my tiptoes, and let the moment take over.When we finally kiss, our lips touch so softly, so intensely, so magically, but I don’t feel like lightning has struck me, or that the world has stopped moving. No, the feeling is unique. Special. Like I am being cleansed from the inside out, the rain washing away all my past mistakes, my sorrows, my hurt. And in their place, taking root, is hope.
Magic.
As the kiss comes to an end, my body feels like it’s floating on air and my mind is slightly aware of four facts:
My feet are not touching the ground.
He has his arms wrapped around my waist. Tight.
I just kissed a total stranger in the middle of a busy street.
And last but not least...
It felt amazing!
When he lowers me to the ground, his wavy black hair falls over his eyes, covering his expression. He takes a deep breath as he pulls his hair behind his ears and looks at me. Once again, butterflies are attacking my stomach as if they are bullets shot from within my soul.
I need to say something, ask him for his name and maybe his phone number.
Yes, I definitely need his number.
But all I can do is stare at him, afraid he might disappear. I watch as he lifts his hand and softly cups my cheek. His hand feels like it was meant to be there all along—so natural. Closing my eyes, I feel a warm shiver run down my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin. With my eyes shut, I don’t see that his mouth is close to my ear until I feel his breath tickling it and hear him whisper words that make my knees go weak. His words take me by surprise.When I open my eyes to ask him what he meant, he gives me a cocky smile, and then turns around and walks away, leaving me all alone on a busy street. I feel shocked, breathless, and stunned.
Did I imagine what just happened?
No, I don’t think so.
It was real.
He was real.
I can still taste the tangy flavor of the apple he must have eaten on my lips. I can still feel the warm imprint of his hand on my cheek.
I shake my head and turn around quickly to see if I can make out his retreating figure amongst the sea of people. I want to catch up to him and ask him for his name. I need to know his name. But I’m too late.
He’s already gone.
Suddenly, I feel so alone.
He is gone.
Feeling dazed, and knowing that I must look like a drowned rat, I try to look for a cab. I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies or books, not in real life. At least not in mine.
A cab finally stops in front of me, and I’m about to get in when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I come face to face with the last guy I ever expected to see again. Standing in front of me is the stranger I just kissed.
“Hey,” Mr. Cocky Smile says.
The way he’s smiling at me opens a floodgate of shivers as powerful as a storm surging inside me, shivers that inundate my senses, running up and down my body.
I’m glued to the ground, and I think my mouth might be hanging open.
It’s not until the cab driver yells at me that I snap out of my rude ogling trance.
I cannot believe it’s him.
Again.
“Miss, are you getting in or not?”
My attention on the driver first, I turn to look at the handsome stranger, wondering what to say to him, but he speaks first.
“I was halfway to class when I realized I hadn’t asked your name,” he says, watching me closely.
I don’t know what to do or say, so I voice the first words my brilliant mind can come up with, “Um…”
This guy is making my face burn like a bonfire.
“Nope. You definitely don’t look like an Um. More like a Wow.” He smiles, making the same delicious dimple deep on his left cheek appear once more.
How can a guy be this perfect?
If my face felt hot before, now it feels like it’s burning. Forest fire burning. What do you say to that? It’s all kinds of sweet and funny. Come on, Cathy! Say something.
“Ha. You’re funny. You know that, right?”
“No, I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was just stating a simple fact.”
Still blushing, I notice that he’s watching me closely once more. Thinking that there must be something wrong with my appearance, my hands go straight to my hair as he steps closer to me. “I-I…Is there something wrong?” The closeness of his body sends my mind spiraling into an abyss where coherent speech seems to be nonexistent.
Without answering my question, his hand moves towards my face. When his thumb strokes the crest of my cheek, I can feel the softness of his finger against my skin. It has been so long since I felt a guy touch me so tenderly.
I notice his face is much closer to mine than before, his hot breath hitting my lips. He’s watching me with eyes that roam my face as if memorizing every single feature of mine…my nose, my cheeks, and lastly, my mouth.
When he looks up, our eyes connect for a brief instant, and he takes a deep breath. “Um, may I have your phone number?”
“Is she getting in or what?” The cabdriver yells once more.
Without breaking eye contact with me, he addresses the cabdriver, “Give us five, man.”
“B-but why?” I ask stupidly. I know what I want but could he possibly want the same?