(no subject)
I Fell in Love with You
ryotego
I fell in love with you.
You were every image, everything I had ever seen in the girls I’ve noticed on the sidewalk of my home altogether, only you were better than everyone else, better than all those other women I’ve gone out with. Hell, what did I even see in them, now that I’ve thought about it. For awhile, they’ve all looked alike, I didn’t care; I don’t remember faces, I don’t remember names. I might have already thrown away a few of their numbers in the bin; my dog probably tore off pages of my address book.
You caught my eye, and I wanted you to take my heart. How cliché of me, but I mean it, I do.
First time I saw you, I didn’t think. You were sitting alone in that café, sipping your coffee while you read your book in peace. That was my regular seat, where I stayed for most of my unscheduled days, playing my guitar, writing invisible lyrics for that someone who could probably sing them to me one day.
What were you reading? What did your coffee taste like? What were you thinking about, when I entered the same shop, and we shared glances for a moment? I wanted to sit closer, but that would have probably been strange for you; you might suddenly leave, I told myself.
I sat near the brick wall, and the barista smiled at me. She was good; she had a pretty face, white skin, and she was amiable. She was too young for me. You probably saw that, though, our short encounter, because I turned to look at you one more time, and I caught you looking back. You averted your eyes from my way and back to your book quickly, and I couldn’t help but laugh. You were so cute.
I drank the last of my whiskey when you stood up, walked past me, and your book fell from your bag. You hadn’t noticed, and I picked it up for you, smiled at this opportunity, knowing that I could possibly…
“Excuse me,” I took the book and caught your shoulder before you could walk on further. You had a small built; you were warm on the first touch, and when you turned to face me, I fell, dissolved, died several times because I saw this beautiful face: large eyes, a cute little button nose, luscious lips, skin just tanned perfectly.
“Your book,” I said nervously, and I only hoped you didn’t notice the quiver in my voice. For a moment you looked stunned, and your face grew some color. You cast your eyes down and took the book, our fingertips touching; I didn’t want to let go.
When I heard your voice, I wanted to take your wrist and just drive you away somewhere far and beautiful. I would say, “Sing for me,” and then you’d sing for me without hesitating. Something sank in my chest, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away especially when you smiled and took the book from my shaking hands.
“Thank you,” you said, and then you tilted your head. “Have we met?”
Goodness, have we? Where had you been in the past four years I’d been living here in Tokyo? I shook my head and smiled back. You said you knew me as a performing artist, a singer at this local café. You said you loved it, and you wanted me to sing for you.
I sang here once, and just that once because I couldn’t bring myself to sing in front of another audience. I was cowardly, but I was thankful you were there. I hadn’t seen you, but I was thankful you were there. I told you I could sing for you one of these days, and you giggled. My heart melted.
I got your number right as you left, the sun leaving, and the clouds growing dark. You took your umbrella and ran away as if with anticipation, your hair caught by the wind blowing against your face. I had promised to call you that night.
On our first date-it was nothing sappy, nothing tragic, just us friends and probably something else-you wore something pretty: a white, free flowing dress, and red flats-is that what you call them? You were so beautiful against the sunlight, and I knew that day things were going to fall perfectly in place.
I took you out dancing in the night, somewhere crowded but spacey because I knew you liked that. I offered you a drink first, then whispered in your ear-I could already smell your perfume, your hair-and then you nodded. On the dance floor, you were so pressed against me, whispered to me you didn’t want to lose me in that crowd and I laughed, placed my hands on your waist. You smiled, told me you liked that.
You still wouldn’t let me touch you when I drove you home, and I was relieved to know you were reserved; I knew you weren’t like those other women of easy virtue. You made me want you more; you made me remember you. You made me love you.
A few days from the shy of summer, I took you to the beach. I remembered this so well, because this was the first time I kissed you, and then you kissed me back.
You stood on the shore, the water lapping at your feet and you told me it felt cold, it felt nice. Again, you wore a sundress that flowed along when the wind blew, and you glowed in it, your skin bright and smooth. You were turning post-teen soon in months, but I could already see it evidently in the ghosting curves of your waist, when I held you against my weight because you told me to.
We lied down beside the shore, sand between our toes but it wasn’t as if we cared. You ran your toes on my shin and smiled at me, our fingers curling in each other’s, slowly linking. You pressed yourself against my chest, but you weren’t heavy. You were teasing me so much, and I was embarrassed to admit that I sort of liked it. If only you saw yourself from my view, you were like a silhouette under the sun’s rays, an eclipse smiling at me that I couldn’t care more about the sun’s light stinging my eyes. I reached out to touch your lips with mine, and I kissed you softly, gently, experimentally. You kissed me back, your fingers in my hair, and I pulled you close to me, my arms around your shoulders.
The waters lapped at us, and you tore away from me, laughing sweetly because we were both totally soaked. You stood up and ran, and I ran after you. We stayed until twilight to watch the sunset with you cuddled by my side, your head easing on my shoulder and we held hands, fingers like vines-and I fell in love.