Short Stories

The Crush

I doodle on my notebook as I watch you taking down notes so intently, with eyebrows furrowed and lower lip bitten. I draw hearts and lots of them around your name. It is just another day and just another literature period with you across me working so hard for hard for your final exams. Oh well, that was sarcastic. There was nothing ‘hard’ in the way you were studying, as you get full 8 hours sleep, enough time to hang around with friends and plenty of time to text to your girlfriend, so how will you have time to study? But right now, I know you are trying so hard to concentrate. I try to drive my attention to something else like the weather for a change. As it was only the first week of January, the familiar chill is still in the air. I wish we could cuddle each other and drink hot chocolate in my bedroom while watching ‘Harry Potter’. Is it too much to ask? My eyes sweep back to your face. Your extra-large eyes are the shape of almonds with milky brown irises in the center. They are brown like honey, like delicious sweet honey. I get a sugar rush just then and I shiver. You lick your lips and I notice a red mark where you have been biting and I want to kiss you. Will you let me? I look up to notice the slightly wet perfectly-trimmed hair and some of it falls onto your forehead, giving you a rather emo-is look. I have gotten the sudden urge to touch your silky hair that smells like baby cologne. I could nearly smell it in the air, so intoxicating, suffocating me in your fragrance.

Your clothes are never untidy or not ironed, as it is always clean and so neat, making me feel so unkempt and so unlike a girl. Now I take a look at myself. My long jet-black hair is tied at the back of the neck, with hair pieces falling into my eyes and my shoes are unpolished and dull. I am wearing a baggy red t-shirt and skinny jeans. In simple words, you look like a prince while I look like his maid.

You catch me starring and our eyes lock. I quickly look away to hide my flaming cheeks and focus on ‘Wuthering Heights”. I can faintly hear the lecturer going on about Catherine and Heathcliff.

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire. my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath — a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff — he’s always, always in my mind — not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself — but as my own being”

Wow, this explains my inner thoughts perfectly towards you. I hope my lecturer does not realize that there is exactly a Catherine-Heathcliff moment in her class.  I twirl a bit of curly hair around my finger, a habit that I cannot resist when I blush. I slowly sneak a peek at you and to my horror you are staring back at me with your pretty boy smile. My heart sings a loving harmony, while my hands go all sweaty. I finally dart my eyes away. I can feel my heart pounding in tiny gaps. I tell myself to focus and focus, but instead, I draw hearts. Stupid hearts all over the book.

Finally, the class is dismissed. It is the interval: the most anticipated period in the whole of the time table. I gather my books slowly, wasting extra time until you are ready to go. You too seem as if you are wasting the minutes until everyone else has gone. Then you walk towards me. You stand in front of me, so close that if I leaned forward, I could kiss you. No, it’s not me who kissed, it’s you. You leaned forward, ever so adorable and gave a peck on the cheek. At that moment, I felt that we were the only people on earth. No, not Earth, in another dimension, where everything was perfect. You gazed into my eyes and said, “I missed you”, and it felt like music to my ears, just like always, just like for the last year together. I search your lips and lightly kiss the red mark and whispered,” I missed you too love and Happy anniversary”.

 

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