Coastnet’s the Witness

They were Math classmates for three months. It would probably make someone wonder why it took him three months to realize he liked her. It could have all been silent admiration, in defense of him, that peaked to its highest level, a “crush” for a sixteen-year-old boy, one lazy morning.

He was running late for his Math 17 class and was abruptly stopped by his professor. He had forgotten almost completely that that Thursday was ACLE day, thus cutting his Math class into its mere first half. Nevertheless, he went inside the room solely out of instinct. Then, he saw her, the girl in yellow with long flowing hair, Chinese eyes, and braces. He remembered how he despised the Chinese, but he also remembered that she wasn’t Chinese at all. And besides, she was really smart. She was with her two other friends, but he noticed her alone.

He was lazier that day than any other day. He sat near them, wishing for a conversation that would at least occupy fifteen minutes of his life. He got what he wanted and they even played cards. It was enough for him, he thought at first, that they talked, because he was also planning to spend the afternoon with his friend who was leaving for the States. But they also talked about which ACLE class to take and he realized he also wanted to take Sex, Drugs, and Politics. So, despite all the mental arguments he had in his head, somehow he ended up taking the class with her and her friend.

The rest was all about bonding. They were building a friendship that he never really thought would go anywhere. Until Monday.

It was Sunday night when he asked her to go out and drink. They did the following day. He was with his friends. He laughed a lot that day and didn’t really understand why. It was nearing seven in the evening when she came. She had a smile on her face that made his mind leap. About twenty minutes passed by as he, she, and his friends talked and laughed. His friends left him alone with her, probably seeing how much he liked her. Then they were under a spell that was no longer understandable. They were suddenly kissing.

Her lips tasted like any other girl’s, but what struck him was the scent of her hair. Her hair smelled like Sunday dawn, its shy magic producing a sense of sloth in him. He wanted to rest, to be drowned completely into her hair. He was helpless, a captive of those seemingly never-ending strands. He wanted to be forever in her lips, caressed gently by the curtains of her hair.

It could not have been romantic, in any way, however. It was a KTV bar, for someone’s sake! More than the drinks being cheap, the bar was not exactly expensive-looking either.

Two days later he asked her if she remembered that Monday night. He wanted to make it more than just another kiss. She said she didn’t remember. He was surprised, appalled, even, but he also knew she couldn’t have possibly forgotten. The way she kissed him? No. It could not have been a memory lost to the faint spectrum of besotted nights.

They went out again on Friday and drank in a more convenient-looking bar. And it began there. She introduced him to her friends as her lover. He couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time anyone has ever referred to him as a “lover.” He was often introduced as a boyfriend or just a “friend,” but this one called him a lover. He was supposed to spend the night with his friends, but he couldn’t help but stay with her.

The next day he went to a far-off cafe just to pretend he had a group meeting for his Political Science 11 class. He invited her and she came. They spent the entire night talking, from seven in the evening to two in the morning. It was an entirely sober night. But he liked it. Before they knew it, they were in a relationship.

A week passed. They were drinking again in the same KTV bar, this time with more friends. About two hours passed when he realized something. He wanted to tell her in a unique way, so he tried to pull off a joke. She knew the punchline and he was severely disappointed. He waved the opportunity goodbye, even if she insisted that he go for it. He thought that he should tell her some other time. Besides, he was afraid of going beyond the border. It was such a fresh relationship, how could he feel that way? But he also wondered when he would tell her.

A few more conversations and he realized it was time. So he told her the joke, just for the sake of “formality,” and ended with the three-word punchline. She smiled and didn’t respond. He asked her, desperately, to answer. She argued there wasn’t a question. He smiled, said, “Fine. I love you. Do you love me too?”

She said, “I do.”

And they laughed at how ridiculously mushy they were acting.

~ by dyeisi on August 30, 2008.