Leaving Things Be
‘You wanted me, didn’t you?’
His tone is smug, self-assured and confident, and behind your drink you try to hide your surprise. You swallow years of unspoken words with your drink and it burns you. You try to remind yourself of the golden band on the 4th finger of his left hand and the fact that he is currently teetering on drink number four.
Yes. Badly.
You smile up at him instead. ‘That’s an overly arrogant assumption to make,’ you pause, ‘even for you.’
His smile is almost leering and he chuckles, closing the gap between you and him on the balcony. His voice is low and it makes you shudder, and at once, years of repressed feelings threaten to rise to the surface.
‘You can tell me,’ he lowers his head to your ear and you close your eyes, letting yourself go for just a moment.
‘Tell you what?’ Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up off the railing and away from him, just as his hand falls a bit too close to the small of your back. It drops and grips the rail instead. He stars after you in amusement and you frown, silently berating yourself for doing exactly what he wants.
He stoops to place his empty glass on the floor, and then turns away from you, gazing out at the dying sun, brows knit in thought. The sight of it all warms you a bit, seeing him in such a capacity. Perhaps your past actions suddenly caught up with you - the giggling school girl fantasising about the striking man in front of you. You sigh, leaning against the wall.
You catch him staring and straighten up, becoming more aware, more cautious.
‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’
You shake your head. ‘I don’t think your relationship status and blood alcohol concentration are appropriate for us to have this conversation.’ You sniff, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. Instead his smile grows larger, and at once it reminds you of a Cheshire cat. Your stomach lurches then, taking you back seven years in the past where your ignorance was almost charming. Almost. He knew more than you did then and a part of you think that nothing has changed.
‘So you admit that there was something?’ he arches a dark eyebrow, looking quite curious.
There’s no point in pretending. You thought he was always too clever for his own good, too knowing. Highly unlike the typical male who swims in the waters of oblivion. You even hated him for it. You resented the fact that every time he came to mind, the only thing you feel is silly. A fool.
You once convinced yourself that it was alright to feel. At least you found you could do it. Looking up at him again, you try to keep your lips curved up to your eyes.
‘Well,’ you begin coyly, but his expression stuns you into silence. Something flickers across his eyes and his expression is unreadable. At that moment you wonder if behind all his teasing, there was a bit of hope for it all to be true. You frown, meeting his eyes with a questioning gaze of your own.
‘Well what?’ his voice decreases a by a few degrees and you your heart flies up into your throat.
‘Nothing,’ It sounds softer than you expect. ‘There was nothing, you’ve had a bit to drink tonight.’
The rest of the words spills from your lips like water, and you vanish from his sight through the crack in the door. His expression still plays on your mind nonetheless. What did it mean?
Maybe. You look over your shoulder, through the slit in the door to see him gazing out over the balcony again, his face wearing a deep frown.
No. It is better to leave him there, better to leave everything as it was. But better for whom, you can’t quite figure out.
His tone is smug, self-assured and confident, and behind your drink you try to hide your surprise. You swallow years of unspoken words with your drink and it burns you. You try to remind yourself of the golden band on the 4th finger of his left hand and the fact that he is currently teetering on drink number four.
Yes. Badly.
You smile up at him instead. ‘That’s an overly arrogant assumption to make,’ you pause, ‘even for you.’
His smile is almost leering and he chuckles, closing the gap between you and him on the balcony. His voice is low and it makes you shudder, and at once, years of repressed feelings threaten to rise to the surface.
‘You can tell me,’ he lowers his head to your ear and you close your eyes, letting yourself go for just a moment.
‘Tell you what?’ Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up off the railing and away from him, just as his hand falls a bit too close to the small of your back. It drops and grips the rail instead. He stars after you in amusement and you frown, silently berating yourself for doing exactly what he wants.
He stoops to place his empty glass on the floor, and then turns away from you, gazing out at the dying sun, brows knit in thought. The sight of it all warms you a bit, seeing him in such a capacity. Perhaps your past actions suddenly caught up with you - the giggling school girl fantasising about the striking man in front of you. You sigh, leaning against the wall.
You catch him staring and straighten up, becoming more aware, more cautious.
‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’
You shake your head. ‘I don’t think your relationship status and blood alcohol concentration are appropriate for us to have this conversation.’ You sniff, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. Instead his smile grows larger, and at once it reminds you of a Cheshire cat. Your stomach lurches then, taking you back seven years in the past where your ignorance was almost charming. Almost. He knew more than you did then and a part of you think that nothing has changed.
‘So you admit that there was something?’ he arches a dark eyebrow, looking quite curious.
There’s no point in pretending. You thought he was always too clever for his own good, too knowing. Highly unlike the typical male who swims in the waters of oblivion. You even hated him for it. You resented the fact that every time he came to mind, the only thing you feel is silly. A fool.
You once convinced yourself that it was alright to feel. At least you found you could do it. Looking up at him again, you try to keep your lips curved up to your eyes.
‘Well,’ you begin coyly, but his expression stuns you into silence. Something flickers across his eyes and his expression is unreadable. At that moment you wonder if behind all his teasing, there was a bit of hope for it all to be true. You frown, meeting his eyes with a questioning gaze of your own.
‘Well what?’ his voice decreases a by a few degrees and you your heart flies up into your throat.
‘Nothing,’ It sounds softer than you expect. ‘There was nothing, you’ve had a bit to drink tonight.’
The rest of the words spills from your lips like water, and you vanish from his sight through the crack in the door. His expression still plays on your mind nonetheless. What did it mean?
Maybe. You look over your shoulder, through the slit in the door to see him gazing out over the balcony again, his face wearing a deep frown.
No. It is better to leave him there, better to leave everything as it was. But better for whom, you can’t quite figure out.