|
Foreword:: I've never liked writing romance, and was never particularly good at it. Some ConCrit for this, please? It was a request from my shop.
>>> First Date by PoppiHollaPuddelz for Teacup Sheep
The sky was impossible to describe in a single word. Blazing, perhaps. But so many different types of blazing had never been known to man. Murky-calm, as well. Solid with the ever-present clouds that could be just a barely discernible, wispy layer, or spread thick like fluffy icing on a sponge-cake sky. Either way, the mysterious gloom was somewhat attractive. Away from the stark black-and-white world of hospitals, away from her element. There was no denying that Scott would look like less of a vision – again that harsh monochrome of a work day. Broken, flowing shapes rose out of the half-darkness of the park. Trees. Mountains. A muted backdrop that reeked of another world. And when the rain started to fall, – heavy leaden drops – Sam tasted a breath of wind like a frozen thought. Flash forward. Flashback. It was all there in the shrouded atmosphere.
That nameless shadow, weaving his way through the dense green. Dimming rays flared behind Scott, daylight’s curtain call. Knowing without a doubt that the sun lay like a hot, golden eye center-stage was not enough. What of the acres of uncharted sky, a barrier between her and the certainty of a burning sunrise tomorrow? What could happen tonight? What would?
“Scott.” A calm enough greeting. Eager? Non-committal. Sam liked the bittersweetness of the uncertain path ahead. ”Sam, hey.” The warmth of his presence joined her on the bench. Sam shifted, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Any other human presence could do the same to anyone – the tightening of already tense nerves, a jittery staccato of heartbeats. They sat in blessed silence for a while, listening to the evening’s symphony. A quiet glug-glug heralded the complete disappearance of the sun, and Sam grinned. If…no, when Scott became a surgeon, he’d delay the passing of hearts and crucial organs, and perhaps delay the descent of sun into night. A childish metaphor. But it was entertaining, all the same.
Surprisingly enough, it was Scott who initiated things. “Shall we?” A hesitant hand. That sweet, sweet, childish smile where it had no place – on a grown man’s face. How could she deny him? “Oh, all right.” Sam listened in wonder to her bubbling, ecstatic laugh and the still wind that warned of fast movement. Almost as soon as she thought it, she was upright, and they were walking, tripping off into the bright city lights as the evening swelled around them.
From the mellow darkness, Scott brought her into a harshly-lit diner, tasting of raw city. He was pretty sure that the both of them had made subconscious mental comparisons. When you lived life and worked in a blank-slate hospital, noticing the tiny, bright details was inevitable.
Sam ordered a chocolate milkshake. The rich brown of her glistening curls formed a nice contrast with the pale condensation on the drink. Scott took another, fleeting look, before unthinkingly ordering his own dessert. When it arrived, it was unsatisfactory. The glass flared out in a tasteless, graceful shape. The ice cream was a melting heap, and the brownies were rock-solid. He forced it down while making tentative conversation with the girl. Scott fingered the bill, exuding a slight reluctance. If he’d had to pay according to the quality of service, there would have been no bill whatsoever. But deep down, Scott realised that what had really irked him was the fact that chocolate would never be rich enough or sweet enough to compare with a certain girl’s curls.
It was the same with the way the fluorescent lights beamed down on Scott’s halo of iodine black-blue hair. Sure, he was an angel, with the godly looks and hints of creeping childhood mannerisms. He was also her best friend, her stumbling, bumbling baby brother, and her father. But most of all, Sam felt this: a frission of citrus-laced strawberry passion.
Her turn again. The amble led them back out past the crumbling lines of man-meets-nature, past gleaming steel and shattered brick, into the cool air. Sam recognized belatedly the significance of the diner visit – to experience something to the fullest required the person to chance on the other end of the spectrum. Neon lights made the simple silver of peppered stars that much more magical, that much more precious. Obnoxious human company in the form of a diner waitress highlighted the delightful puzzle of their intertwined hands. The last, weakening dregs of chocolate faded into the peppermint bliss of Scott, herself, and the soundless night.
He traced out their future in the constellations. S and S. Scott, Sam. Sometime, somehow, with someone. The dark felt disappointed. The trees beckoned. Scott had seen enough television series and read enough cliché romance novels to know how this would, or should end. A guy. A girl. Stars, a cold clear night. “Kiss.” Scott almost admonished himself for not doing it. Each moment hurried on towards encroaching daylight, toward the ripe readiness of the end of a date. Come Monday morning, there would be nothing. Not a shred of happening to hold onto and think over. Kiss her. And he tried to. Oh, poor Scott, he certainly gave it his all.
It felt like a brush. The smiling, earnest schoolboy was there again. Clear, unblinking eyes and a flush that would light up the night. Sam didn’t hesitate. The intent was clear, and she approved. Lips met in a warm, prolonged embrace. They didn’t part until many minutes afterwards, when the fireworks began to fade behind Sam’s eyelids.
Two shadows in the moonlight.
Twin surprise.
And again, the lovely bittersweetness that weaved a tangible question in the air.
It wasn’t a question of how, why, when, or where. It was a muddled confusion belonging to a first-timer: what comes next?
Of course, there would be forever to find that out. Tonight, she was young, and the turbulent darkness embraced her to acknowledge it. Even with the shadows lengthening, trees with needle-thin branches ticked on towards eternity. Another round on the clock face of life.
Just another day.
1000/1000
|
|