A note to the observant: Almost all city names are false; they were taken from a variety of fantasy sources. All characters are based on real people, so it is no coincidence that they are the strongest part of the story. Names, and sometimes personality and personal history, have been modified to protect the innocent. The events of this story, however, are complete fiction.
Quote Attribution: the line of song Heather sings is from Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi. Used without permission.
Passersby watched as a man and a woman walked towards Safeway, talking and laughing.
The bystanders's impressions of the man were that he was tall, possibly brushing six feet, and probably underweight. His arms and chest lacked the defined musculature typical to men his age. That didn't seem to bother him, though. He walked with one hand spaded in his pockets, taking the long strides his legs allowed. He wore loose, unadorned clothes in shades of grey and beige and blue; their solemn colorings leant him dignity. He had dark hair and dark eyes that some found disturbing--he sometimes gave the impression of being able to see into a person's secrets. He wore glasses, round-lensed in a day when most young men seem to prefer those narrow rectangular lenses, and he had a warm, infectious smile.
The bystanders's impressions of the woman were that she might be a fashion model. She had the classic American good looks: long blonde hair, currently loose and being played with by the dancing wind; eyes of strong, fearless blue; a smooth, perfect face. She was somewhat shorter than the man she walked beside; she let her arms swing wide, sure of herself and her place. Her clothes were of a brighter color than her male companion's, but they were still plain and unpretentious, adding to her air of self-sufficiency. Some might have wished she had more curves to her, an increased swell to her hips or a more prominent ass or perhaps larger boobs; some might have been satisfied with her as she was. Her face was beautiful, and when she smiled, it shone like a beacon of light.
Most of the bystanders figured the man and the woman were friends. Surely she could do better than this slightly-slouched, slightly self-conscious man. Besides, their ages suggested they attended college, and Besaid University was right across the street. All sorts of things happened in college. Certainly weirder things than these two being friends.
Most of the bystanders would have gone along assuming the man and the woman were friends, except for the single incongruity of their holding hands. Their banter was that of friends: the comments made in alternate yells and whispers; the easy laughter; their confidence around each other. But the hands... They linked the two tightly together, as though they were one person.
They emerged from the supermarket ten minutes later with a bag suspended from between their joined hands. No one knew what to think.
Some of the passersby shook their heads. Some of them smiled, remembering their own days in love. Some had more important things to attend to.
The man and the woman didn't care. They were in love, and the world was their oyster.
Colin Watson and Heather Norwellyn took the extra precaution of hiding the box of condoms in the middle of the plastic grocery bag. There was no reason to hide their love, but just as little reason to broadcast it to the public. Colin in particular had once had an embarrassing incident where someone saw through the translucent plastic of a grocery bag and made comments on what was inside. He was eager to avoid such an experience, especially since it was obvious who the condoms would be used with. Heather had suggested buying lube, but Colin had shaken his head. "I already have it." And then proceeded to relate the embarrasing incident when someone saw through the translucent plastic of the grocery bag. It had taken Heather a couple of minutes to stop giggling.
"Besides," he said, "judging from the puddle you created, I don't think you'll need it."
"What if you wanted to go somewhere that doesn't produce puddles," she asked him, and his eyebrows jumped to his hairline.
They had actually gotten groceries; the on-campus store bore a superficial resemblance to a 7-11, but it was sorely lacking in good varieties of soda and potato chips and candy, which were Colin's daily fare. He ate almost incessantly sometimes. Heather wondered how he managed to keep himself so trim.
"It's my metabolism," he said, giving her a wry smile. "I love sugar, so I guess my body got used to dealing with lots of it. I used to be pretty hyper, remember? It took me practically until high school to calm down. I
wish
I was fatter. I need insulation from the cold. If it drops below fifty-five degrees, I freeze my ass off."
"Well, I don't think you'll be having that problem tonight," she told him as they boarded the elevator.
"Well, yeah," he said disingenuously. "I mean, it's May."
She rolled her eyes at him. "That's not what I meant."
He grinned and kissed her nose.
Heather and Colin were glad that Colin's roommate, a shy and sometimes annoying creature, had gone home for the weekend. It gave them all sorts of flexibility they never would have had otherwise. Like the option to have the sort of long, private talks that had led them here in the first place.
Colin unloaded the bags while Heather used her cell phone to call her parents. "Hi, Mom? It's Heather... Yeah, I'm at Besaid University with Colin. I dunno, how late can I stay out?... Oh, I dunno... Well, we're doing a lot of talking. We've found out some things about each other that are, well, surprising."
Colin, finished, came up behind her and put his arms around her. As he did, she jumped. He did too, yanking his arms away, but she reached out and put his arms back. Her concentration, though, was on the phone now wedged between her ear and shoulder.
"Yeah," she said. "How did you know?"
Colin blinked. How did Mrs. Norwellyn know
what
?
"...Well, okay," Heather said. "Yeah, he said it was obvious too, but clearly it wasn't, because I missed it... Yes, Mom, I remember. For a while you wouldn't shut up about it." She launched into a credible imitation of her mother's voice. "'You should date Colin, he'd be good for you. Do you remember your friend Colin, you've known him since first grade. Who wouldn't be attracted to you? You should ask him out.' ...You did too sound like that. ...Okay... Okay. Uh. Okay, Mom. Thank you. 'Bye."
"What'd she say," Colin asked.
Heather turned around in his arms, her face a picture of astonishment. "She said I could come home whenever I wanted."
Colin blinked. "What, like..."
"No deadline," Heather said. "She said I could do anything I wanted. Even not come home until tomorrow."
"And what was that about dating me," he asked.
"Well," Heather said, tossing her head to clear her face of hair, "she said we'd started dating. Like, it wasn't even really a question. She just knew."
Colin felt his eyebrows climbing into his hair. "Really."
"Yeah," Heather said, "and she seemed really pleased about it, too, she was like, 'Well, I've always said he was the man you should choose, and now you see I'm right.'"
"And knowing that, she completely disbanded your curfew," Colin said. "She basically said it was okay for you to stay here all night if you wanted."
Heather nodded, her eyes wide. "Yeah."
"You know," Colin said, "your mom is either completely insane, or the coolest person ever."
"Probably both," Heather said. "I think she trusts me to know what I'm doing. Like, she doesn't think she needs to look over my shoulder or anything. She knows I'll be fine."
"And you are," Colin murmured. Heather smiled, but the double entendre had passed him by; there were other things on his mind. "My mom isn't like that at all. She constantly doubted me. And so I constantly doubt me, too." He looked up. "I wonder if we're seeing a trend."
"Well, when we have kids, we'll remember to have confidence in them," Heather pronounced.
"Wait," Colin said. "We're gonna have kids?"
