Her skin felt moist already. Although the train was air conditioned, she felt her legs, way too hot in her jeans. Her heart was beating just a little too fast and her hands were a little too cold for a hot and humid day like today. She was utterly and noticeably nervous and hoped he would at least pretend to not notice, so she could suffer in silence just a little longer.
When she left the train station, the rain had lightened up just enough, so she didn't need her umbrella anymore. After getting her priorities straight -- iced coffee over anything else- she strolled through the streets. She felt alive. And scared. And maybe this was exactly what she needed.
When they had started talking, she was unsure of what she wanted. She wanted to meet people; she wanted to find good conversation, connection. What she had found was him. Something in his face had drawn her to him, although he wasn't what she would typically consider "her type".
She hadn't expected what happened next -- he had her wrapped around his finger with his creativity, humour, eloquence and wit. Of course there was the enthusiasm of the first flirty messages. But when she began to look closer, she saw something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Her face tingled and her stomach sank a little bit. Anxiety was what she expected to kick in, but it was butterflies she felt instead.
When she had reached their designated meeting point, her skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat. She felt afraid and delighted at the same time. Sitting down in a relatively dry spot, she tried to calm down by turning up the volume listening to her favourite song. When Jeff Buckley was just about to stretch that falsetto that little bit too much, she noticed a tall figure standing in front of her. Embarrassed, she clumsily got up and looked at his face, smiling with a mixture of insecurity and curiosity. His smile was different from what she had seen on the pictures. He had told her how tall he was, but in person it was that little bit more impressive. "You are short!" he exclaimed, making her laugh. She was used to that kind of banter and tried to show that she could take it.
Having admitted to their shared nervousness about their meeting for the first time, they had decided to hit a bar and take a shot before dinner. Trusty tequila hit that sweet spot just right, sending a warm, comforting feeling down her belly. But her insecurity didn't subside quickly enough. She tried to calm her nerves, but all that came out of her mouth were too many anxious, bad puns and clumsy flirting that didn't seem to have too much of an effect on him.
She was glad when he offered her a cigarette, which managed to occupy her hands and enabled her to study his features a little more closely. His hands were much bigger that hers, his shoulders broad and his face started to glow in passion every time he started talking about his writing. She could have listened to his passionate descriptions of his characters for hours. She also felt his exhaustion from work, his discomfort in his probably way too hot shirt and his insecurity regarding where they (this?) was going. She kept on reminding herself that all she did was interpreting what she saw, quite possibly over interpreting all of it.
The food was delicious, the beer nice and cold as her lips touched the glass. When they talked about his fatal allergies, her love of pickled ginger and his "day job", she started to relax a little. She decided that she wanted to be friends with him, if nothing else. Reading people was something she usually considered herself good at, but she was out of her depths here. Maybe it was her insecurity, maybe the cultural differences between them. But she was glad she had met him, fear and delight making their dinner taste ten times better than it probably was.
His back prohibited them from walking all the way to the cinema they had decided to watch the movie in. She was a little worried about him when he requested a short break, probably to relax a little and show her an interesting church he liked. Sitting next to each other under a Frangipani tree, she registered his cologne for the first time. She had noticed it before, but just now she realised how well it worked with his body chemistry, creating an invitation she didn't feel like resisting if he brought it up actively. When she put a fallen flower behind his right ear, she registered a scar running down his jaw alongside his ear. Careful not to cross a boundary, she touched it lightly. He shivered, producing an exquisite, deep groan. This was when she knew she wanted to kiss him if he let her.
They didn't get too far after leaving this spot. Thirst and desire for rest made them seek shelter in a close by bar. She enjoyed her icy cold cider standing next to him while he showed her pictures of his work on his phone. This was when the rain started to pour down aggressively, as it seemed to in this country at least twice a week during February -- at least according to her limited experiences. Looking out onto the street, listening to music in the background, being acutely aware of his presence next to her, she felt alive.
Her: This is one of the best moments I've had in Australia so far.
Him: Because of the cider, right?
Her: Yes, of course, only because of that. No other reason at all.
Standing in the rain, waiting for an impulsively ordered Uber, she started to feel cold. He stood there, his back against a wall, using both their umbrellas as support for his tall frame; all she wanted was to be close to him, as vulnerable and naïve as this made her feel. She considered her options for a moment, and did what she had always been good at. Making impulsive decisions following her heart recklessly, being afraid of the fall, but craving the high.
She stepped closer to him, leaning on him, her back against his chest. Their very significant difference in height would probably have enabled him to rest his chin on her head. Instead of stiffening up or seeking more space, he put his arms around her shoulders, using an umbrella as a kind of fence against the rest of the wet world around them. Her heart almost leaped out of her chest, she felt the blood rush to her face, warmth pooling in her belly. Carefully feeling the waters, she started stroking his arms. He didn't protest, and she was able to admire his tattoos a little more. Some little voice in her head reminded her to make a mental image of this moment. It could be a one time thing to be this close to him.
The Uber driver registered their chemistry in the backseat, silently drove them to their destination in the rain, which they reached just in time for the movie.
