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Life and Fiction  

chugfromjug 27M
0 posts
7/26/2021 11:10 am
Life and Fiction


A girl confessed her love for me last Friday. I hesitated. I wondered how things would have turned out if I had taken that extra shot of Tequila. Or perhaps, would anything have happened if she did not. Regardless, I was pulled into the narrow but open hallway where she let spilled heart out to a slightly surprised me. There were murmurs around the the kitchen, and I wondered if they were talking about the rather embarrassing situation I had found myself in. They were not. I yelped a sigh of relief.

I brushed off her confession with some white lies. I cannot remember what I said exactly. But words that spilled out of my mouths surely must have flattered her. My intention was not to deceive. I did not minimize her feelings towards me. What I wanted to do, in the most polite of ways, was to reject her. But only if I knew that words, once let loose, are etched permanently in the listener's memory. I was eerily calm but knew that I could not be so any longer. Time was ticking, the moment was expanding. My heart beat was catching up to hers.

Then I hear that the microphone had a new singer stood in front of it. I made a light hearted remark and gestured her to come with me towards the crowd. The moment was still lingering. I swiftly take a big glass and go to the refrigerator to fill it. That was all the time I needed to sober up and compose myself. I find a new crowd to chat with and leave her standing forlorn at the kitchen door.

I knew I could not leave her there by herself. So, I didn't. After an exchange of few words, we end up in the sofa, facing each other. Her knees were placed on the sofa cushion and pointed towards me. I had my legs crossed with the right leg over my left and gently touching her perturbing knees. We continue our conversation from the hallway.

I focused all my attention on her. The energy in the room was in flux. There was her anxiety, her longing, her feeling of doubt, and perhaps, her feeling of regret over having told me what she did. Then there was me, also in new grounds, but with a strong resolve to ensure that my rejection would not encourage her to be timid. Ah, but she remembered what I had said in the hallway. And she regurgitated it back to me, asking me gently what I meant when I said "I like you too".

There was no escape. As I composed myself to spin the situation, the closeness of our lips struck to me as rather odd. Our lips were the closest they'd ever been. The only thing stopping them to be closer was my disinterest. But she is still unsatisfied. Not with my answer to the question, but with my gentle but distant demeanor. I could not offer anything more. I felt no shame in that. I reassured her that things would not be awkward between us. She tried to flatter me with kind words. But, I had already sobered up by then.

I make playful gestures with the other guests in the gathering. My watch tells me that it is an hour past midnight. I start saying my goodbyes. She comes to me asking if it is ok if I drop her off. Without hesitating, I say yes. The conversation in the car ride seems banal to me. I I am rather disinterested in her feeling towards me because I know that I cannot reciprocate them. I remained highly attuned to her emotions but felt it would be rather vain to explain it away. I chose to listen.

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