"You know," Bob said solemnly, "it's beginning to get tiresome."
"Look," Laura replied, after a long hit out of the wine bottle, "you just have to show some patience, some...don't let it bring you down."
"Easy for you to say!" He accepted the bottle, and smirked. "You'll never know how it feels being totally invisible!"
"You're being too dramatic, Bob," she scolded him. "You're not invisible! You're just..."
"Hopeless?" He drank long.
"Trying too hard, sometimes," she corrected him. "And it shows."
"What am I supposed to do, then? Sit in a corner, acting indifferent? Will then women start approaching me?"
"Don't take it to the extremes! That's always been your problem, actually. Never bothering with silver linings, never thinking of a middle point."
"Live a day in my shoes, then come talk to me about silver linings."
"Don't get mad at me!" She protested.
"Sorry," he retreated hastily. "It's just..."
"What happened this time?"
"I was out last night, with the guys," he said, his expression immediately darkening. "To that new night club, downtown? Well, at first, it was alright; we had some beers, made some jokes. Then, after a little while, there was more dancing, more people standing, it was...
"You know how it gets. Crowded, people mingling, all that."
"Yeah, I know...so, what happened?"
"Nothing!" He erupted, then drained the remaining wine. Laura got up, staggered to the fridge, and uncorked the third bottle of the day. "That's the point!" Bob continued, after another snort of wine. "The guys got up, some started dancing with some girls on the floor, others were chatting up girls...and I sat in our booth, suddenly all alone.
"Looking about, smiling at some girls; and they didn't even give me a second glance! Hell, as soon as they noticed me looking at them, they turned the other way, clearly disgusted I was even there!"
"I'm sure you're exaggerating!" Laura said sternly. "It couldn't have been that bad!"
"It was probably even worse," Bob said. "The only times people do notice me, is when I'm with you; and that's because they're wondering how a vile sob like me landed a beauty queen like you."
"Thanks," she whispered with a giggle. "At any rate, I think it's just your negativity talking right now. Or, maybe, you just concentrate on the negative, and miss out on the good things happening around you."
"Bullshit," he retorted angrily. "I do appreciate," he hastily, and apologetically, added, "your efforts, don't get me wrong. It's just, as I've told you so many times, that you cannot possibly know how it feels like; when you walk in a night club, guys are willing to fight over a chance to talk to you.
"For me, well, some girls will probably fight as to who they'll throw at me as a sacrifice, so the rest can enjoy their night."
Laura had a good, long hit from the bottle; the wine began getting a hold of her, her head grew lighter and her limbs pleasantly numb.
When she got up to get another bottle, Bob could not restrain his glance from falling to her firm ass, hardly concealed from her tight shorts, wiggling under her faintly unsteady footsteps. He had to fix his jeans, when she bent over to reach for the bottle.
"We're running low on wine," she said, still bent over, her upper body inside the refrigerator. "Only two bottles left," she picked them both up, uncorked them, and brought them over to the couch.
Bob took one gladly, had a long sip; however, the alcohol did not aid with his raging erection. Laura sat crosslegged next to him, and drank; a few drops spilled down from her mouth onto her white t-shirt, and Bob gulped down, suddenly sweating.
"You know," she said after a few minutes of silent drinking, stumbling lightly on her words, "I sometimes wish I wasn't garnering as much attention as I do."
"Right..." he chuckled dryly, had a good long hit of wine. "That's simply because you don't know otherwise, Laura. You would hate it, trust me, if you had to spend an entire night sitting all alone in a night club, waiting in despair for someone, anyone, to pay you some attention.
"You can get drunk in any bar, sometimes without even paying for a single drink."
"Sure," she frowned, "but, that's only because guys come running to me, due to my looks. No one really cares about what's inside of me, you know? They don't bother ask me about my hobbies, my interests...anything, actually. They just fire up jokes, try to impress me with their job, or how well-read they are, or whatever else they've got going for themselves...sometimes, it's just about lifting their shirt to woo me with their abs, because that's all they've got.
"All but you, Bob," she reached tenderly for his hand, took it into hers. "You've always cared about me; about my interests, what I'm doing with my life, my dreams, even my flaws."
"You've got no flaws, Laura," he whispered, horrified by the sweatiness of his palm and thrilled over the softness of her skin.
She burst into warm, genuine laughter, then leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek; a long, warm, wet kiss that nearly caused Bob's heart to explode.
"That's what I've always loved about you," she suddenly said, her head resting on his rigid shoulder, "how you can always make me laugh and feel good about myself."
He didn't speak; no words would exit his mouth at that moment, even if there were words he wished to utter. He sat rigidly up, staring dead ahead at Laura's bookcase, with countless of thoughts racing through his mind, thousands of emotions and potential actions tormenting his psyche, but, there was nothing he actually could do.
"Are you okay?" Laura lifted her head. "You're shaking."
"I'm alright, yes, it's..." he cleared his throat, unable to face her. "I'm just a little cold, that's all."
"You're joking, right?" She giggled. "It's 30o C outside! I'm sweating buckets here and I wear almost nothing!"
"Yeah," he sighed heavily. "I'm okay, though, don't worry," he added hastily.
"What's got you so fascinated?" She leaped off the couch and stood in front of him. "You keep staring at the books, as if you expect them to talk to you!"
"I'm just going through the titles, that's all..." he apologized.
"Haven't you seen them before? You've been here so many times!"
"Just checking if you got any new ones, that's all..." he mumbled.
"Bob, are you sure you're all right?" She asked, worry apparent in her voice.
"Yes," he replied, heavyhearted; he couldn't avoid looking at her. He stared at her lean body, the perspiration on her soft skin reflecting under the light, her round breasts, her visible—under the thin, white fabric of her t-shirt—nipples.
"Look," she sat next to him, trapped his hand between hers, "don't overthink about what we talked about; you have to stop thinking so much, you know? You tend to think so much, ending up sabotaging yourself; take it easy, act more impulsively.
"Your friends, of whom you're so jealous, don't waste time on weighing consequences, do they?"
Was it the wine, or her words? Bob could not tell; however, in the midst of his drunken haziness, and feeling Laura's hot breath right on his face, he couldn't help but go for the kiss; it had been a dream of his since day one, since they were young children playing in kindergarten, or, riding their bikes after school.
Laura was taken aback; she did not immediately break it off, instead, she responded positively at first, allowing him clumsily to bite her lips, pushing his tongue reluctantly into her mouth. It felt wrong, however, thus quickly she pushed him away, albeit gently, and for a moment she simply stared at him in bewilderment.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he whispered on the brink of tears, looking at the floor.
"It's okay, it's just..." she paused, arching her eyebrows. "Why?"
He looked up abruptly, a fire raging in his body. He opened his mouth, shut it; repeated the same motion a number of times, unable to muster a coherent thought, let alone an actual sentence.
"I do love you, Bob," she said, in a hoarse voice, while the whole apartment spun around her faster and faster, "but, never did I...I never thought of you in...that way... you know, I'm...I'm sorry, really, it's just..." suddenly, a hiccup thundered her body.
They both burst into chuckles, the tension suddenly decreased; he leaned forward, his time to place his hands over hers.
"Laura," he said, in an unsteady voice, rocking back and forth, fueled by alcohol courage, "I've always loved you; ever since we were kids. I was just..." he paused, cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, desperate to regain some clarity, wash away the blurriness of both his mind and eyesight. "I've always been afraid, you know?
"I've always known I didn't stand a chance, you know? I mean..." he looked down at his body, his protruding gut, his thin, untrained arms. "Yeah...anyway, it was probably just the wine taking over, we...did drink quite a bit, huh?" He failed to smile.
Laura inspected him intensely, unable completely to comprehend the inner struggle taking place in her head. Overwhelmed by her own thoughts, she leaped up on him, kissed him; Bob, at first, was caught completely by surprise, felt certain he was dreaming.
She kissed him passionately, her hands on his face, sucking on his lips; gradually, he reciprocated, his body alit. He helped her out of her t-shirt, gently touched her breasts; rubbed her nipples softly, hesitantly.
