The darkness that night was sudden and crisp. We rode form borough to borough while the breeze blew my blonde locks crazy. We followed a cobblestone path down that luscious hill and fled to a secret room amidst the time of night. It may have been the darkest hour of the night, or perhaps the brightest hour of the morning, but wither way, that distinct moon howled. In a dark basement, miles and miles away from my known surroundings, I lost myself and found myself at the same instant. Green Apple wax dripped into multi-colored pebbles in that glass arrangement. There was a bittersweet aroma that filled our space, leaving smiles and smirks for hours afterward.
Everything felt right. Everything felt planned. We were like mice on Christmas morning, whispering and tip-toeing as we traveled from room to room. You and I went on an adventure that night as we dodged the swirls of darkness around us. You grabbed my hand, sweet and gentle, as you gazed into my eyes.
I watched the sun rise that morning. Through the fagged and misted glass, I saw a beautiful mixture of colors with you.
The brightness that morning was cool and delightful. I’m not sure which was brighter that day between your smile, mine, or the shimmer of summer against us together. Something sweet, so secret, and safe will continue to burn forever. Just like that Green Apple candle, shedding heat, shedding wax, it continued to burn for us.
I pursed my lips and blew the flame to smoke as you smiled. A mutual goodbye was shared, a mutual feeling of relief was felt.
So long.
For now.
That night you called me.
"I'm skipping math class and coming to get you in the morning,"
you told me without any sense of hesitation.
"But.. it's class. You can't skip."
I was trying to be the good-girl influence in the whole ordeal.
But you didn't care; you couldn't have cared less!
"No way am I going to class. You have 3 days left here, Eliza. Tomorrow is the only day we'll be able to see each other." You were so right.
Thank god you didn't go to class.
It would be so hard to forget it- I remember the next morning like it was yesterday.
I woke up in my sister's tiny, rectangular box of a dorm room only to find myself flustered and frazzled to no end.
What do I wear? What color nail polish? How do I fix or un-fix my hair? Great.
But I did precisely what my instincts told me- be yourself and all will go well.
So I did exactly so.
I threw on a pair of straight-legged black pants, a plain white tee-shirt, a pair of my sister's old-school red flats and grabbed a matching purse.
My hair was curly (nothing unusual) and before I sprinted to the elevator, I spritzed a nice spray of a subtle perfume and jetted for the door.
"I'm on the corner of 1st and 25th," you said.
My breathing patterns were so erratic, possibly even on the brink of a shy hyperventilation.
"Okay, I'll find you," I said while trying to keep it all together.
And I did. I kept it all together and I found you.
You smiled a great smile and stared at me with your wide, hazel eyes.
I didn't know you wore glasses.
I didn't know you could look so darn cute in them either.
But I found out.
I also found out that you could race around Manhattan like a semi-pro, spanish-speaking taxi driver.
We parked on the side of the road, something so uncommon for New Yorkers to even attempt to do.
Finding a parking space wasn't even difficult. I wondered why everything was going so smoothly, why everything just made sense.
On Columbus Street, you took me to a place called Amber; a beautiful sushi cuisine restaurant fit for royalty.
Sitting across the table from me, you looked like a prince in my eyes.
You were everything that the movies try and shoot for- tall, dark and handsome.
But you were better than any movie ingenue.
Sweet and kind. Polite and mature. Open-minded and witty. Smart and sexy.
After ordering a water with lemon, you called our waiter "boss" and unknowingly, you let your New York accent slip through your lips.
I couldn't help but to release a giggle, grinning and commenting on just how unusual it was to me.
We agreeably ordered a few sushi rolls- one in which was called "Perfect Match".
I'm not sure if you would ever remember that, simply because it was just the name of a sushi roll for an early dinner, but I couldn't seem to forget it.
"Perfect Match"? Really?
But we were.
I was the little, blonde southerner.
You were the tall, dark northerner.
But regardless of our appearances, where we came from or where we had been, we got along like two peas in a pretty porcelain pod.
We left, we got in the car and you told me you didn't want to take me home.
"We're going to my friend Gavin's house if that's okay with you. I need to show someone that you're real or else no one will believe me."
And off we went.
The color of your v-neck was baby blue. Well, when you picked me up it was blue. I found out later that it changes. Things change I guess, even shirt colors. In front of a barber shop, I sat down briefly next to an elderly lady on 95th and 4th. I was in an aqua green beach dress as my curls clung to my back. We spotted each other instantly peering through the same glass window.The first few minutes took some getting used to. I mean, it had been 365 days since the last time I had seen you.
You smiled and it brought back that mutual vulnerability.
“How was the train?”, you asked, breaking the ice, calmly and collectively.
For a brief second before attempting to answer, I was trapped in thoughts of the last time we were together.
Bright lights, Sushi, Joe's, Gavin’s.
“Fine, but a bit strange. We don’t have trains in Florida.”
I laughed at my own statement. Then you did. Even though it wasn’t humorous, I just wanted to see your lips curl.
Fourth time we meet.
To be continued...
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