Dear readers,
This is my first time submitting a story, so any feedback is welcome! The story is based on a true experience I had last summer. The names are changed of course, and many details too. I hope you enjoy!
........................................................................................................
She was waiting for him beyond the little gates of the station. She was looking around in that anticipatory way; not frantically searching but definitely keeping her eye out, moving her head first this way, then that way. She was waiting for him, he supposed. This was where they had agreed to meet.
She was dressed pragmatically, considering their activity for the day. She was wearing a light summer dress, adorned with blue floral patterns. Buttons ran their way up the front from the hem towards her small cleavage above. Below her dress showed a small bit of pale leg, and then the fashionable brand-sandals she had picked for the day. All in all it was an outfit that was as suited for a stroll through the city on a summer's day, as for an afternoon on the beach.
More interestingly, it was an outfit that would be easy to take off. It couldn't have taken more 30 seconds to put on and could be removed just as easily. To not draw out the moment of truth too long, perhaps. Whip-Snap and it would be over.
From the distance he couldn't see if she was wearing a bikini top. Her breasts didn't really show under the flowy fabric of the dress. It didn't matter anyway. Her slight figure was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. One of the many factors that went into the snap decision to swipe right a week ago.
........................................................................................................
Not the only factor of course. He wasn't that shallow. He didn't usually even look at appearance that much. Presentation was more important, he felt.
What kind of picture a person put on their dating profile says a lot about character. When someone only has badly lit, duck-faced selfies, that person doesn't portray a lot of personality, or at least, not the sort of personality he liked. The same went for people with overly many pictures of 'having drinks with the giiirls!' or anything to do with Instagram filters (doggy ears are not, in fact, cute. Not at all).
She had had none of those red flags.
On her profile, she had a beautiful analogue film-photo showing her face, outlined by crisply captured brown curls, hazel eyes looking mischievously into the camera. Another one showed her in the mountains, feet dangling over some precipice. Her face showed a contentment, like there was no place in the world she'd rather be. A last photo was of her lying in the grass, flushed cheeks heated by the sun, her eyes scrunched into a wink by the intense light.
She seemed like a person who would be naturally at ease in any situation, comfortable in her own skin and mind. A person that was born to just exist. She was gorgeous.
.......................................................................................................
So he had swiped right. And now they were here. The nervous feeling that had been building since he first stepped on the train was reached a crescendo. Butterfly wings felt more like jet-engines, thundering in his stomach, sending hot fumes to cloud his mind. He usually felt a bit nervous before a date, but it was heightened this time.
He passed through the small gates, leaving the platform and waved, trying to get her attention. After a couple of seconds, she turned her head his way, and her face burst into a bright smile (not unlike the one in the picture, but that much more abundant in real life). She waved back and started walking towards him.
The pictures had done her justice, not under- and not overselling her looks. The brown curls swayed gently, ending just below the height of her jaw. Without a camera to provoke her into posing, she was more pretty than drop-dead gorgeous. (Though he thought that was fair enough. It was probably a lot less tiring to be pretty, than to be drop-dead gorgeous all the time).
Her eyes were sparkling and seemed to smile, even if the rest of her face was not at that moment. Her nose was small, with a slight crook that gave the rest of her more realness. Without it, she might would have been suitable for the cover of GQ, or vogue; a spotless fairy-tale princess. With it, she looked more like someone out of Nan Goldin's slice of life photographs. A person sexy through living. He preferred that. It was much more tactile.
Her mouth was big, made for grinning, and her lips a cheery pink-red (made for kissing. But that was as of yet a silent thought, whispered lightly in the back of his mind, obscured by louder observations).
"Hi Sam!" she said as she approached. Her voice was lower than expected, and a bit raspy. The way your throat gets dry when you haven't spoken for a bit. Or when you're nervous.
"Hi Marie" he replied.
He gave her a quick hug when she reached him. Handshakes were for your teacher or the distant uncle that you haven't seen for a while. Not for someone you were going to spend hours on a date with. She was quite a bit shorter than him, her head barely reached his chin.
"How are you?" she asked quickly. It was the kind of question that didn't demand an immediate answer, more a placeholder than anything with real intent. Like him, she didn't want a silence to develop, leaving space for nervous thoughts and worries.
"Sorry if I am a bit hectic at the start. I had to run for the train, then I thought I lost my ticket, so I had to sweet talk the conductor, then I was changing wagons because some weird guy started on the opposite bench started talking to me."
"Don't you hate it when people do that? I even had my earphones in, I mean come on! Anyway, it is nice to see you. Are you nervous? "
...................................................................................................
The quick flow of words reminded him of when they first started texting. The quick cascade of messages had seemed a bit much at the beginning, but he figured she was just an enthusiastic person.
What makes you happy? I mean like small-scale happiness. On a daily basis. He had asked after the obligatory opening messages.
The three moving dots, indicating that she was typing, took a while to materialise into a message.
A lot of things! Going to a good movie or looking at beautiful art. Making an extravagant lunch and eating it all in like five minutes. Going for hikes in the mountains and being exhausted after a long day of walking. Or going skinny dipping in a cold lake after!
The fact that she had taken the time to think about and write an actually interesting answer, warmed him to her. So often, people had responded lazily to his question. Among the worst were: 'You, hot daddy', 'Netflix', and worst of all 'my dog;. Answers that ensured the conversation was professionally assassinated before it had time to come of age.
You know, I have actually never gone skinny dipping. Sam had texted back.
How is it?
I love it! It is wonderful to feel the cold water on every part of your body. It makes you feel like people should never swim with clothes on in the first place (you know what, now that I think about it, maybe people just shouldn't wear clothes in first place. Though I don't really know what it is like to walk around naked...
...
Again the three moving dots took a while to become a message. A full three minutes later, the next message came.
I have a crazy idea for a first date.
........................................................................................................
Back in the hall of the train station he replied with a nervous laugh "I am a bit nervous, but I think it is mostly excitement!"
"You look really nice by the way!"
Suddenly, she looked at him with an intense stare. With a slightly cocked eyebrow she said "Now what kind of excitement you were referring to exactly?"
He felt his cheeks go red. He didn't know how to respond to that.
After what felt like ages, her face broke into a mischievous smile.
"I was just teasing you! Come on, let's go catch the bus."
...................................................................................................
They sat next to each other on the slightly too cramped seats that one is likely to find on the common city-area bus. They sat close to one another, legs touching lightly, their muscles tight from not wanting to impress on the other too much. This close, he could smell her perfume. It was herby and sweet, imbued with lavender, lemon and apricots. It dove straight from his nostrils to his stomach, stirring up jitters from the deep. He was already infatuated by that smell.
From the corner of his eye, he watched her face through the curls. Her side too, was very pretty. Her eyes were darting to and fro, glancing occasionally at him when she thought he was not looking.
After they had gotten on the bus, there was a momentary pause in their conversation. It wasn't a silence as such. More a bated breath, held in anticipation. Now that they had passed the stage of salutary pleasantries, they were at a crossroads. The choice of topic might influence the entire afternoon.
One thing was at the forefront of both of their minds, he was sure. But to bring it up could break the spell, introduce doubts. He did, unequivocally, not want that to happen. He decided to travel down a safer route.
"In the texts you said you enjoyed looking at beautiful art. What is the nicest thing you have seen recently?" This was a somewhat helpless question, he realised, but she seemed to appreciate his effort and quickly picked up his cue.
"Let me think... Oh! I went to Austria in summer and saw the Kiss by Gustav Klimt. You know the painting of the couple, wrapped in a golden blanket, where the guy is kissing the girl on the cheek?"
"I loved how intimate it felt. It was so different from everything I had seen before. Not realistic, but with the grainy texture and the black squares on the gold background, and the devoted posture he painted the people in. I thought it was amazing. If I could be kissed like that once in my life, I think I'd die a happy person."
For a second, she seemed to be looking at him with a vague expression. It might have just been imagination though, for how quickly it passed.
