(I Hate This) Love Song – part three

He pushed his fork into the spaghetti and twirled it, then pulled up the caught strands and put them slowly into his mouth as I watched, enthralled at the carefulness with which he ate, thinking how much like a little boy he resembled at that instance. Chewing as carefully, he looked up to meet my gaze and I smiled.

“How’s my recommendation? The food’s good isn’t it?”

“Yeah I like it. Coffee’s great too.”

“I come here to feel young all over again,” he grinned. “But seriously, that it is a social enterprise warrants our support.” “Now I can’t wait for dessert,” I grinned back.

I put my spoon down and took a sip of my ristretto. Warm lighting bouncing off the creamy-white walls amidst the already rowdy ambience of the cosy cafe, and it was barely lunch time. Outside, lush green trees threw shadowy patterns onto the stony sidewalk while bright blue skies beckoned in the distance. It would be a beautiful albeit sweltering day.

Returning to his presence, my eyes met his. He held my gaze, unwavering and steadfast, a slight smile curling up the corner of his lips. I felt uncomfortably aware of myself and wondered what he saw in my eyes. He did not turn away, still motionless yet relaxed, and I began to squirm inside. Flustered, I broke off abruptly and looked away.

He didn’t.

He was still looking. Still stripping me down layer by layer, slowly but surely, till finally I stood before him, bare to my being and naked to my soul.

I took his gaze again, pleading with him to stop. Stop rendering me helpless. Helpless to prevent myself from sinking deeper into his eyes. Eyes that drown out the world, that everything ceases to exist except the two of us.

“I’ll get them to serve our desserts now,” he said finally. I let out a breath, and he laughed and winked.

“What are you thinking?”

“Just wondering…”

Desserts came, a pretty arrangement of sweets and ice. I picked up my dessert spoon as he did. Then he stopped.

“Such a heavenly view.”

I’m gonna give you my heart
I don’t care –
Even if you tear me apart
I want to die in your arms.


– End of part three –


Leave a comment

Filed under coffee, emotions, feelings, love, music, novelette, writing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s