Of Dances and Kisses
Dedicated to the boy I know. And once knew.
“Tell me a story,” I’d gently plead, nudging him gently by the arm. We were out of topics to talk about, but I wouldn’t want him to leave. So I’d always think of anything that would force him to stay for a little longer (and hopefully much longer). Like always, we’d end up in a one-sided conversation, me begging for a story (any story, so as long as he’d stay by my side), and him groaning (in a struggling attempt) to tell me one.
“Please,” I’d add, and that made the final blow. He’d give me that cutesy little pout of his, and lowering his head, I’d know he just gave in.
“Hmm…a story. But nothing interesting has been happening in my life right now,” he’d say disapprovingly, like as if giving someone an apple when he asked for an orange. “And I’m not creative enough to make up stories like you do.”
Okay, maybe my “please” wouldn’t work all the time (just like this time), so I’d just have to encourage him some more. Anything to make him stay for a little while.
“Just…anything. Family, friends, school, or perhaps…love life?”
Him and I. We’ve been almost inseparable for three years now. Almost.
He’d laugh, and that laugh meant that he was scoffing. His eyes were curled, tightly shut, and he’d turn to the side so I couldn’t see the look on his face. The look that shouts: ridiculous.
“What?”
He’d notice how cautious I became when I said those last two words.
“Nothing,” he’d respond, and the scoffing turned into a gentle chuckle.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” he’d repeat, grinning like an idiot. A beautiful idiot that never fails to captivate me. “Nothing to your ‘what’ question and to your ‘love life’ question. You know me. I don’t care about those.”
I’d slowly tilt my head upwards in a manner of saying “okay”, when in fact that gesture really means a doubtful “uh-huh”.
“Although…” he’d begin to converse, cupping his chin with his hands and releasing a thoughtful look. “There was a girl just a few years ago, back at my High School days...”
“Oh, I see.” It would be my turn to grin, for grinning was always the best way to hide unwanted emotions. “So~ what about this girl?” I would even surprise myself to how casual I’d sound. It would be like I took up drama class, which I didn’t. I’d guess acting is every girl’s best friend after all.
“Her name is Lina. And, well she’s nice…and normal,” he’d gave a heartwarming laugh, a laugh that couldn’t be paid by any tangible treasure. “Every Christmas season, my classes would throw Christmas parties. And in latter parts, all of us would always anticipate dances, not just fun dances, but also slow dances. I don’t know why we do slow dances during Christmas; it’s been part of my school’s tradition,” he’d say, thinking deeply. Then he’d add, “And I don’t dance unless it’s Lina.”
It’d make my heart skip a beat, yet it’d also force a smile out of me. Funny how your body parts wouldn’t go in sync with one another. “Then?”
“I was a freshman when I first asked her to be my dance partner. I can’t remember exactly the reason why I chose her; it just came out that way. That’s where it all started. Either I dance with her, or I don’t dance at all. It was then I did one of the bravest things I could have done with regards to girls.”
If the former would make my heart skip, this one would make my whole body to stop working, like as if every nerve and every cell had been injected by anesthesia except for my lips, because it would have a calling that it needed to smile. To smile. To smile as wide as it could.
“And that would be?”
At this moment he would just be staring at me, not knowing how suspended into thin air my thoughts and emotions were.
“I asked her if she could be my first and last dance.”
I would not answer. But the words in my throat would be trying to escape, trying to keep him company. I was the one who asked for this, anyway. And at the backstage of my mind, I’d be blaming myself.
Sensing he wouldn’t receive a response, he’d continue, “And she just smiled widely and said ‘yes’.”
If only words could speak for themselves, I wouldn’t have a hard time copping up in answering, but they couldn’t, so I wouldn’t, either.
“Hey, you still there?” he’d ask, playfully knocking on my head, making both of us look like little kids. “Or did you get jealous?”
That question was a challenge. He’d be challenging me with that playful and boyish smirk of his, and that smirk was all I ever needed to zap myself back to reality.
“Are dances kisses?”
“What?”
“Are dances kisses?” I’d ask once again.
“You mean are dances the same as kisses?”
I’d nod.
“No.”
“Then dream on. There’s no need for me to be jealous.” I would be even more surprised by the way I was acting. ‘There’s no need to be jealous’, when in fact I could have pointed out a dozen of reasons why I should be. Acting really is a girl’s best friend.
I’d easily caught his expression; he’d be taken aback by what I said, but he’d hold it back again, so as to not keep his smirk from fading. “Really?” he’d ask, still playing under that boyish smirk.
“Yes.” I’d sound more casual and believable than before. “That girl—any girl—can be your first and last dance. I wouldn’t mind. In fact, I hate dancing. But if dancing are equivalent to kisses, then that would be on a different premise. For her. For you. For us. Why? Because there is only one girl who can—and will be—your first and last kiss.”
He wouldn’t answer, but he did keep that smirk plastered on his lips. Still, his thoughts and impressions would be much harder to fathom. After awhile, words finally came out, and a question was formed.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I wonder who that girl is.”
That statement would be a little unexpected, but I’d smile warmly and respond, “Yeah, it makes me wonder as well.”
By this time he’d stand up, and he wouldn’t have second thoughts on informing me, “You had your story. I’ll go now.”
“Wouldn’t you stay for a little while?” would be my usual response, but this time, I didn’t say anything. I’d simply acknowledge his actions with a nod.
“Thank you.”
“Hm?”
“For staying.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
And when he’d walk to the door…
“Will you be back?”
“Hmm…I don’t know.”
And before I could even breathe, the door was closed.
A/N: My first time publishing an original in public after a century, so, please be nice. I know it's crap, perhaps crappier than my fanfics, but still >":
