#and maybe has a girlfriend or wife who is deeply insecure and mothers him

[florafight]

.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Happiness is Everything (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This wasn’t requested; I needed to give my boy some love, and a strong bond with Hvitserk. It’s nothing but a silly comfort fic.

@geekandbooknerd​ - Thank you for beta reading this for me 💖

@zuxiezendler​ - Thank you 😉🌸 (and you know why)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Ivar doesn't want any more set-ups. Hvitserk’s stubborn girlfriend disagrees.

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst due to Ivar’s temper and insecurities; an obvious lack of plot; lack of creativity; fluff+++.

Words: 2575

Stifling a hiss of pain, Ivar flops down on the couch, leaning his crutch against its armrest. 

 "Here." Hvitserk joins him, handing him a beer before gulping a long sip of his. "So, brother," Hvitserk's face is slightly crumpled as he looks at him, "There's a last-minute change." 

 With a tight-lipped expression on his face, Ivar frowns. He hates last-minute changes with a passion. "What are you talking about, Hvitserk?" He asks curtly while massaging his right thigh absently. 

 "Thora will be with us tonight." Hvitserk shrugs, his discomfort obvious. 

 "Okay." Ivar tilts his head, confused. Every Thursday night, he and his brother spend the night together. Usually at Hvitserk’s place, eating frozen pizzas – a lot of them, Hvitserk being Hvitserk. Most of the time, Thora, who enjoys spending time with her friends, leaves them alone. Sometimes she stays home though, and honestly, it's fine. The truth is, he likes Thora. She's smart and funny, and uncomplicated. Sure, he didn't warm to her right away. It took time. But now, it's okay. He probably won't say it out loud, but yeah, he likes her.

 "So…" Raising a brow, Ivar takes a sip of his beer, "It's no big deal." As Hvitserk keeps silent, Ivar scrutinizes him. His brother is clearly nervous and not at ease at all. Ivar slowly licks his lips. "What are you not telling me, brother?" He knows he's right when Hvitserk lowers his gaze.

 "Well…" Hvitserk clears his throat, "She won't be alone."

A wide-eyed look on his face, Ivar snarls, pursing his lips. "What does that mean, Hvitserk?" The icy cold tone of his voice matches his hard stare, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his hands into fists. 

 Hvitserk winces, "You know what it means, brother," before taking a seat in the armchair across from Ivar, the small coffee table between them suddenly highly appreciated. One can never be too careful when facing Ivar's anger. 

 "Are you fucking kidding me?" Clenching his jaw, Ivar bangs his fist on the table, and Hvitserk immediately leans forward, catching his brother's beer just before it falls down. 

 "I'm not, Ivar. Listen, I'm sorry but Tho–"

 Ivar cuts him off, running nervously his hands through his hair. "I can't believe it! Remember the fiasco with Thora's cousin? And then with her colleague? What was her name? Livia? Lisa? See, she didn’t even stay long enough for me to remember. Anyway, I thought I was pretty clear after that, wasn't I? Maybe you and your girlfriend should go and check your hearing, what do you think, hm, brother?" His voice dripping with sarcasm, Ivar gives Hvitserk dagger eyes, his pointer finger tapping the side of his head. "No more set-ups. That's what I said, right? Sounds pretty clear, huh? Do I need to tell it again, brother? Look at my mouth, I wouldn't want you to miss it this time,” He points to his lips then in a sarcastic manner, “No. More. Set-ups. No. More. Blind. Dates." Bottom lip quivering, Ivar, who's boiling mad, struggles to hold back his anger.

 "I know, brother…" Hvitserk swallows, rubbing his hand over his face, "but you know Thora means well, don't you? I briefly met Y/N once and honestly, she seemed nice enough. Plus, Thora's not really setting you up. We'll be together, the four of us, here, just eating pizza, it hardly counts as a date, don't you think?"

 Disgruntled, Ivar heaves an exasperated sigh, his nostrils flaring. "Stop playing dumb, Hvit, and don't tell me you've never heard of double dates!" He stares at his brother, his pupils dilated, shading his eyes darker blue. "Anyway, it doesn't matter." As he reaches for his crutch, a scowl on his face, Hvitserk stands up, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

 "Isn't that obvious?" Ivar mocks him while adjusting his legs in front of him. "I'm leaving!" Shifting his butt forward, he laces his left arm through the metal loop of his crutch, places his right hand on the coffee table, and then slowly hauls himself to his feet, grunting and swearing under his breath. He has a false start, where it seems he's going to fall right back onto the couch, but Hvitserk catches him skilfully, gripping his upper right arm. As soon as he's sure his baby brother has found his balance, Hvitserk releases his arm and Ivar gives him a tight, thank-you smile. 

 Hvitserk barely nods, as if nothing happened. And gosh, Ivar may be mad at him about this stupid set-up-non-set-up thing, but right now he's feeling mostly grateful. His brother not making a big deal out of his struggles never fails to amaze him.

With any other of his brothers, it wouldn't have been the same. 

Bjorn would have looked at him as if he were an utter failure, and then maybe helped him – out of pity, Ivar is sure of that – but not without paternally patting him on the shoulder; or even worse, on the head. The thought makes him cringe and he shakes his head, chasing it away. Bjorn is no longer around anyway, busy traveling around the world with his fourth wife. Or maybe it's the fifth? Ivar lost count a long time ago. 

 Sigurd would have kicked his crutch out from under him while Ubbe would have forced him to sit down, hovering beside him for far too long, afraid he would slip or stumble, or break a bone. Between Ubbe and Sigurd, between plague and cholera, Ivar is honestly not sure which one is better. Or worse. After all, it's all a matter of perspective. 

 Fortunately, Hvitserk – his favourite brother, and it is no coincidence – never treats him differently; never belittles him; never mothers nor smothers him. With him, Ivar feels like he's normal.

 Gratefulness flooding his mind, a pang of guilt suddenly hits him. He knows that if he leaves, he will put his brother in a difficult position. Though his resolve remains unshaken, Ivar puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, and when he speaks again, it's in a softer voice. "Listen, brother, just tell them I cancelled because I wasn't feeling well, okay?"

 Technically speaking, it's not even a lie. Today has been what his beloved mother would have called a 'bad leg day'. The pain coursing through his lower limbs worse and the muscles stiffer than usual, his right leg barely moving due to its swollen joints, he had taken a double dose of painkillers earlier, regrettably with little to no effect.

 "Well, brother," Looking out of the window, Hvitserk grimaces, an uneasy grin on the corner of his lips, "I'm afraid it's too late." 

 As if on cue, the door busts open and a girly chuckle can be heard. Ivar clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the handle of his crutch. As you and Thora take off your coats and shoes in the doorway, Hvitserk mutters, his mouth on his brother's ear, "Behave Ivar, please. For my sake." 

 Ivar snorts, exhaling deeply. "I'll try." He closes his eyes and, shaking his head, he mumbles, fighting a lump in his throat. "It's… It's not that easy. Fuck Hvitserk, you don't even know…I wish I wasn’t so angry all the time. I… I might have been happy." His voice, barely a whisper at this point, cracks at the end, and he hates himself for that.  

 Astounded, Hvitserk isn't even sure he heard right. There's no time left to ask Ivar to repeat himself though, so he somewhat haphazardly decides to comfort him, nevertheless. "You'll get there, brother." He eventually breathes, still stunned by his brother's unexpected admission.

  "We're coming!!" Unaware of the tension in the room, Thora shouts enthusiastically before crossing it in two long strides. All smiles, she joins the brothers, winking at her lover and squeezing his hand, and gives Ivar a peck on the cheek followed by a wholehearted hug. She then steps away, gesturing toward you as Hvitserk wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Ivar, this is Y/N."

 Reluctantly, Ivar looks in your direction and the moment he sets his eyes on you, his breath catches in his throat and he knows he's screwed. Already smitten. Gods, you're glowing and insanely beautiful. He barely hears Thora's next words. "And Y/N, this is Ivar, Hvitserk's little brother."

 A beaming smile on your face, you wave at him before taking two shy steps forward. "Hello, Ivar." Even your voice is wonderful, sweet, and silky, and he can't help but smile back at you, annoyed with himself for being so weak. 

 Even if he can see the sparkle in your eyes as you look at him, even if your smile is devastating, he knows better. 

 It won't last. It can't.

 For now, standing tall in his brother's living room, he's aware you surely find him attractive. With no false modesty, Ivar knows about his good looks, his huge blue eyes his greatest asset. Of course, you must have noticed the crutch, but the crutch per se is barely a turn-off. You can't see his titanium leg braces, which he stubbornly wears under his pants, even if they often bruise the thin and delicate skin of his calves. You can't see his crippling pain, his struggles. You can't see his distorted bones and his hideous legs. You can't see how disabled, how crippled he really is. But he knows that as soon as he takes a step, you'll get a small glimpse, and then the sparkle will leave your eyes, replaced at best by polite indifference, at worst by pity and disgust. 

 Yet, there's nowhere to hide from the inevitable. So, he decisively closes the gap between you and him, leaning heavily on his crutch, dragging his useless right leg behind him, and eventually standing right in front of you, he extends his hand. "Nice to meet you." His gaze never leaves your face, Ivar awaiting for you to avert your eyes, but you surprisingly don't. And as you reach out and offer him a firm handshake, your smile never falters, the sparkle still dancing in your eyes. 

 *** One year later ***

 You stir and turn toward him, your hand searching and finding his chest, and then lay your head on his shoulder. Groggy with sleep, you just mumble his name, eyes still closed, before letting out a content sigh and Ivar can't help but smile; you're so adorable.  

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, he draws you closer, running his fingers along your back and pressing his lips to your head. Rewarded by kisses in the crook of his neck, his free hand settles on your hip, your skin warm and smooth under his fingertips. "Hi," he greets you and buries his nose in your hair, deeply inhaling your scent.

 "Hi." You eventually mumble with a raspy voice, now peppering light kisses all over his broad torso. "What were you doing, my love?" Your eyes flutter open and, propping yourself up on your elbow, your other hand flat on his chest, you offer him a warm smile. There's so much love in your eyes, it takes his breath away. 

 "I was remembering." Ivar smiles fondly at you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his mouth. "Do you know what day it is?" He asks, gently kissing your knuckles one after the other. 

 "How could I have forgotten?" You scoot even closer, your breast against his chest, your mouth barely an inch from his. "Today is the anniversary of the day we met, my love. That's what you were thinking about?"

 Ivar nods before laying you down on the bed tenderly. He then sits up, running his hands through his hair. "I remember as though it were yesterday, you know? I still can't believe you didn't run away." Sitting behind him, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, trapping him in your embrace, in your love. "You stayed…", his voice trembles as he gestures to his legs, hidden under the sheets, "… you stayed in spite of… of them…" He swallows loudly and your heart aches.

 Resting your head on his left shoulder, you shake your head. "No, my love, I didn’t stay in spite of your legs, but because of them." 

 Ivar is looking downward but as soon as the words escape your lips, he snaps his head to the side, a frown flitting across his face, and gives you a confused and slightly upset look. "What do you… What do you mean?" He stammers, suddenly tense.

 Shifting in the bed, you carefully straddle him, tilting his chin with a curled finger and forcing him to meet your gaze. "Don't get me wrong, Ivar. I'm not especially attracted to your legs. It's not some kind of weird fetish. I stayed because of what is in here." You put your finger on his forehead, and then over his heart. "And here. But your legs made you who you are. And you're different. A good kind of different. You don't think like other men. That's what I love the most about you. You're unpredictable; you always surprise me. You wouldn't have been who you are without your legs." A gentle hand sliding under the sheets, your fingers graze his scarred skin. "With two working legs, who knows what you would have been. You probably would have been a presumptuous womanizer like Bjorn. Or you might have been as boring as Ubbe; as careless as Hvitserk; as annoying as Sigurd. You are who you are, infuriating, smart, and stubborn, and, I must say, breathtakingly handsome, and I love you exactly the way you are." 

 Ivar just looks at you for a long time, a small smile playing on his lips. Raising his right hand, he cups your face. "Never stop telling me you love me, Y/N. Please..." You never saw him so willingly vulnerable before, and it breaks your heart – you never want him to doubt himself – as much as it fills you with joy – he trusts you enough to share his insecurities with you. 

 You answer him without missing a beat. "I won't. I love you more than my own life. I love you bigger than the sky and its stars, I love you to the moon and back. I love you like I never thought I could. Loving you is a blessing, a precious gift, the meaning of my life. I love you and only you, Ivar Lothbrok."

 Blinking a few times, Ivar heaves a shuddering breath. Tears come to his bright blue eyes and the expression on his face is unreadable; fragile and strong all at once. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. Staring into space, he seems lost.

 Stroking his cheek, you bring him back to the here and now, back to you, kissing his earlobe, his jaw, his neck, before returning briefly to his mouth. "What is it, Ivar?"

 Your lover shrugs, "Nothing, really," and pulls you closer, his hands on your back, his breath on your face, his manly scent enticing you. "Or more accurately…", he whispers in your ear, "… Nothing, yet everything." 

 Not understanding what he's getting at, you keep quiet, just staring at him, confusion obvious in your eyes. He then offers you a mind-blowing smile, and your heart nearly jumps out through your mouth at his next words. 

 "I may be happy. Actually, I think I am."

 🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​ @pieces-by-me​

[weasleylovers]

Hey guys! I’m posting this for anyone who writes Fred Weasley imagines (Fred Weasley x reader)! I have a lot of ideas and since I’m not a writer, I’ll be posting them on here and ANYONE is welcome to take these ideas and write them. Please do! And tag me please, I want to read them!

- most of these will be after the war imagines and Fred lives because he shouldn’t have died! I said it! He shouldn’t of!

- a imagine about Fred leaving the wizarding world after almost dying during the war and meeting a muggle (reader) at a bookstore. But plot twist, she turns out to be Hermione’s sister who don’t get along. Maybe they don’t get along because Hermione stoped talking to her once she became a witch and the reader being her big sister felt alone and sad. And maybe we see them rekindle their relationship. (After the war)

-being Cedric’s twin sister (or younger sister) and naming your first born boy after your late brother with Fred Weasley (after the war)

- one about Fred likening the reader but gets jealous when she’s with Cedric but he doesn’t know there really brother and sister. Twins. (During 5th or 6th year)

- Fred trying to do the Im breaking up with you because I’m not in love anymore. And you overhear him yell goerge so you get him back but doing the “I’m in love your Ron.” Joke. Jealous, crying Fred who begs you to give him another chance and he’ll treat you better then Ron. (During 5th or 6th year)

- doing the I kissed another girl prank, and reader crying a lot, but she knows it’s a joke cause Harry and Ron tell her and reader gets him back by saying, I cheated on you to prank. (During 5th or 6th year)

-  George getting a new girlfriend who still can’t tell  apart the twins and kisses Fred who is reads fiancé. And reader sees and thinks Fred doesn’t love her anymore so she leaves. But she doesn’t see Fred pushing off George’s girlfriend. And saying, he has a wife. And Fred looks for her and finds her crying somewhere. Cute ending where there happy. (After the war)

- or Fred dating Harry Potter twin sister who looks like lily. And is snapes favorite student and is always so nice to her and always protecting her. Maybe them walking around at night and Snape catches them but let’s them go because reader looks really excited and happy for the date. (During 5th or 6th year)

- another one could be muggle/Dursley/Harry’s cousin reader, but when Fred meets her he doesn’t know. And they fall in love. But when it’s time how will she react when she finds out Harry is Fred’s brother in law. And she wasn’t even invited to the wedding. Maybe Harry and reader where really close as children because she always protected him and treated him like a brother. And he forgots about her. Cute ending. (After the war)

- one about Fred being in love with the reader who is the Trio’s best friend since first year. And now there way older, the war is over and they feelings for each other are out. But Ron (who sees her like a sister, his twin sister because maybe they have the same birthday) is upset because if they were to break up, he would have to chose a side. And he loves them both, he doesn’t want them to get hurt. Happy cute ending tho! (After the war)

- something eles could he Fred having a son he doesn’t know about, but he gets sick and needs Fred’s blood, the reader needs to find Fred and ask for blood and tell him. Maybe you can fast forward a couple years where there a real family. And love each other deeply. (After the war)

- maybe on about reader and George secretly trying to date when Fred and Angeline are together. Back in hogwarts. But it doesn’t work out. And after the war it’s Ron’s birthday and they play truth or dare and Ron says, “remember when we caught reader and George kissing in the common room” or something like that. And Fred who’s the reader fiancé and Angeline who is George is girlfriend are both shocked and mad. But of course reader and George get upset to, and reader says, “well you two can’t say anything because you knew I liked Fred Angeline and you Fred can’t talk because I’m not...to upset you dated my best friend.” Both Fred and reader get  insecure but everything works out in the end because they were meant to be. Cute lovely ending (After the war)

-   (warning this one can be sad! Please don’t do unless you’re comfortable with the topic) your kids and Fred pulling a prank on you so you get them back by saying your done and your leaving without them. And tell them you never want to see them again. (Like walking out) and then all the kids crying and telling you they love you. Cute ending! (After the war)

- taking you kids to platform 9 3/4 and being really emotional to let them go but Fred tells you, I’ll be okay. Maybe them being afraid to let you go as well because they don’t want to be without you. Cute family moment. (After the war) 

- Fred and reader being married! And the reader is a couple months pregnant and they find an  abandon baby outside late while closing the shop. And they get attached to it and  adopt apout it. Happy ending! (After the war)

- reader being a single mother to a three year old son and dating Fred. And Fred is the perfect father to a son that isn’t his. Maybe you can fast forward some years where Fred officially adopts son as his own. And reader is so happy. (After the war)

- reader and Fred being married but a new  employee getting to close to Fred which upsets the reader and makes Fred uncomfortable. But she’s a good businesswoman so they don’t fire her. But things go to far when she threatens the reader and says Fred will be hers sooner or later. Fred and George overhear this and fire her  immediately and we see a overprotective and loving husband Fred take action! (After the war)

- Fred dating Draco Malfoy’s twin sister and Narcisa and Lucis accept it because they’ve never seen the reader so happy. Maybe we can see all the Weasley warm up to her and Draco who is the readers best friend not just her older twin brother warm up to Fred. (After the war)

- one about the reader being Fred’s best friend but when he gets with angelina and says, “she’s like a sister.”, she can’t take the pain and moves schools. Years later, they see her again but she’s changed in a good way. Maybe George is getting married to Angeline but Angeline can’t help but feel jealous who George acts with the reader (who he only sees as a sister) but it doesn’t look that way. And Fred was in love with her before she left, but thought she loved George so he got with Angeline which was dumb. and they find out there. Cute ending where they get together!  bonus where they end up getting married years later. (After the war)

- being the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy is revealed after the war and was a death Eater to protect her younger half brother. Plot twist is she saved Fred from the wall and Fred had a huge crush on her in hogwarts. Happy ending! (After the war)

- Fred liking an older reader, maybe she’s Charlie’s age and is friends with him. But things happen and they end up liking each other. And she’s worried about what his family will think cause she older. Fred loving her so much, and doesn’t care. (After the war)

- Fred telling his twin daughter how he meet their mother (the reader) and how he fall in love with her. A bedtime story. (After the war)

- being ginnys best friend and dating Fred without her knowing because you don’t want to upset her. Maybe she finds out after trying to set reader up with someone and Fred gets really jealous. (After the war)

-  pretending to be Charlie Weasley fake girlfriend for a family dinner so Molly will stop  setting him. But have a special connection with Fred, maybe things happen and Fred falls in love with her. And feels so bad because she’s his older brothers girlfriend but they both tell him it was a act and they kiss :))) that would be so cute! (After the war)

- being Fred’s ex-girlfriend after he breaks up with you to keep you safe. And you parents want you to get married and since you don’t have Fred, you agree to the arrangement wedding and Fred shows up and stops it. Asking for you to no choice him and that he’s still in love with you! Happy ending! (After the war)

- being Snape’s daughter and falling in love with Fred, maybe it’s your wedding day. But you dad died during the war and it hurts to think about him not walking you down the aisle. And being really emotion. Cute fluff ending with Fred telling you I’d be okay and that he loves you so much. Maybe even asking George to walk you down the aide for your father. (After the war)

- Fred Weasley imagine where he finds a cat animagus and he takes a liking in it. Maybe she’s hurt and he helps her, but she’s stuck somehow. And he’s with her all day, then later during dinner, she falls asleep on his lap, and suddenly she turns back into a person but she’s asleep in Fred’s lap, and everyone’s shocked to see who it is. it’s Draco Malfoy’s best friend who’s in slytherin. Maybe Fred’s always had a crush on her and she likes him back. (During 5th or 6th year)

-Fred Weasley imagine where the reader is a neville Longbottom older sister but she never went to Hogwards so after the war when the Weasley see Neville there all shocked to see he had a beautiful sister, they never knew about. (After the war)

- that’s it for now!

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

Let me tell you a good story

Bloodbound Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed and MC (Annie)

Information:  this takes place after Bloodbound 3, here I’m recreating how Kamilah and MC would meet if she had never gone to Raines Corporation right away.

Summary: Thirty years after meeting Annie for the first time, Kamilah is now a wife and a mother. During a regular family dinner, she decides to tell her daughter and their new son-in-law the story of how she fell in love with Annie after an unusual meeting through the hallways of NYU.

Warnings: none

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Let me tell you a good story - Part 3

March 2nd, 2048 “No way!” Drake leaned back on the chair, laughing his heart out. “You didn’t realize that Ms. K. Sayeed was her??”

“No!!” Anna whined behind her hands. “I found out later.”

“A month later, might we add.” Kamilah was shaking her head judgementally. “You cannot imagine how much fun I had listening to her complaining about the boss, ‘Ms. Sayeed’, right in my office.”

“FOR ONE MONTH?” Drake’s chin fell.

“I… I… Uh, come on! It’s not my fault. She signed her works with ‘K. Sayeed’. How the hell would I know? I don’t google every author I read.”

“But, ma’am, she told you her name was Kamilah right before joining a conference which had for main lecturer a ‘K. Sayeed’.”

“Wait, let me defend her now.” Lysia put a hand on Drake’s arm, suddenly monopolizing his attention. The diamond ring on her finger sparkled against the light. “In Brazil, Kamilah is a quite common name, but not with a ‘K’. It’s always with a ‘C’. She had never met a ‘Kamilah’ with a ‘K’ before. Therefore, she couldn’t link my mom’s name with ‘K. Sayeed’. It’s like someone telling you her name is ‘Kate’ right before going to a conference held by, I don’t know, ‘C. Hudson’. Would you automatically think this could be a ‘Cate’ with a ‘C’?”

Kamilah gave her daughter a proud smile. There was her little genius lawyer showing up. Every time Lysia put on that tone on her voice, so delicate yet firm and confident, the vampire queen would feel the urge to applaud and hug her tight. She grew up so fast. When did my little fairy princess-ninja become a beautiful woman?

“Ok, ok. Now I get it.” Drake gave in, melted by the argument as much as by Lysia’s touch. “Go on. When did you find out? What happened?”

Annie took a deep breath, her face already back to its natural colour. “So, after I basically criticized and called her thesis’s conclusion to be stupid… And laughed at Adrian’s thesis as well… Kamilah just fell in love.”

The woman beside her almost choke on wine. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, please. You got horny cause I had the audacity to criticize your work. No one had done it before.”

“MOM!” Lysia twitched her nose. “Please, do not say horny. That’s not a picture I want in my head.”

“Alright. Your mother felt very… Blissful. She spent an entire week thinking about my gorgeous audacity, until she finally took the courage to invite me out on a date. Actually, to command her assistant to do it.” Anna shot an accusing glare. “Couldn’t do it yourself, huh? Coward.”

Kamilah crossed her legs, avoiding that look. “We could say, if you insist, that I was only being careful to let someone more… Social… Handling the situation. And it wasn’t a real date.”

Annie laughed. “Right. I know you just wanted to see me again.”

 August 22nd, 2018

             Days were getting a bit too cold for Anna’s taste. She had grown in such a hot city that anything under 25ºC (77ºF) was already considered freezing. Hence why she was wearing heavy pajamas and socks that afternoon, all covered in blankets while eating cookies. It was her day off and Princess Bride was on TV. She had seen it a hundred times, for it was her favourite movie, yet still laughed at the same jokes. One day, months later, Annie would watch it again with her girlfriend. Three years from now, with her wife. In ten years, with her five-year-old child between her legs. But tonight, all she was aware of was a warm feeling on her chest, the urge to see someone she didn’t know how to find.

           “Stop it”. She stared at the cookies, scowling. “It was just a random woman. You don’t even know anything about her. She could be a boring ass businessperson.”

             “Ahem.” Kamilah interrupted the story, an icy glare coming down at Annie. “I don’t understand why being a businessperson sounds like a flaw in your mouth.”

           “Not the point. Hush.”

             The movie was about to end when a high sound made Anna jump on the couch.

           “Phone! Ok, where is it…” She went looking around the mess of books and papers, until finally finding it hidden inside a pencil case. “Yes, hello. Hi.”

           “…Am I speaking to Ms. Anna Mali?”

           “Yup, that’s me. Who is this?”

           “Ms. Mali, my name is Jacob Lee, I’m… Kamilah’s assistant. She wished to know if you’re available to have dinner tonight, at seven o’clock.”

           “Oh.” Annie sank on a chair, confused. “Are you asking me out on a date? I mean, Kamilah. Through you.”

           “I’m… Not sure if she would like me to answer that. I was specifically told to call you and set dinner to either tonight or Saturday night. Whatever suits your schedule.”

           “Right. Can you put her on the phone, please?”

           “She is at a meeting now.”

           “Of course.” Annie sighed, disappointed. “Ok. Tonight’s perfect. Where should I meet her?”

           “I’ll text you the address. Thank you for your time, Ms. Mali.”

           Something was off. Anna stared at her phone, trying to understand what just happened when Lily’s voice appeared from the steamy bathroom. “So, I think now we’ve officially ran out of hot water. What ya doing, girl? Let’s put another movie on.”

           “I... Think I might have a date. In two hours.”

           “WHAT? Is it the hot woman you met that day? Was it her on the phone?” Lily grew impatient by the silence. “Come on! Give me something here!”

           “Yes, I… Lil, okay, listen, this is super important. Help. Me. Look. Gorgeous.”

           She took the mission seriously. Without much time to think about it, Lily fetched a nice fancy dress, combed her hair into a loose bun, put on a provocative shade of red lipstick and, finally, struggled against the decision of which coat letting her use. Normally, Anna would wear something warm and heavy. It was 20ºC (68ºF) outside, and for her that was enough reason to burry herself in clothes. But Kamilah would definitely judge it.

           “Ok, blood. You better boil in there and keep my friend warm because we’re doing this.” Lily handed her a light and elegant lace coat.

           “Is my accent too strong?” she bounced at the doorway, still unsure.

           “Yes, and for the hundredth time, don’t let this bother you so much. You speak four languages, for fuck’s sake. If anyone around here mocks your accent again, I’ll kick his ass. Stop worrying and go. Text me if you need rescuing, alright?”

           It was 06:45 when she left the apartment. Ten minutes later, her cab stopped at the destination.

           “Have a good date, miss!” said the driver.

           “Thank you! But… Wait, is this correct?”

           “Yes, miss. It’s the address you gave me.”

           They were parked outside a huge and beautiful business building. Not the kind of place for dates. Anna walked in with a confused look on her face. A sign on the wall said “Ahmanet Financial”. That’s oddly familiar. The moment she approached the balcony, a young man came to greet her. His voice sounded familiar the minute he started speaking.

           “Good evening, Ms. Mali. Kamilah must be down in a minute. Could you kindly wait at the lobby?”

           “Hm, Jacob… Right? Jacob Lee.”

           “Yes, that would be me.”

           “I’ll wait, no problem. She can take her time.”

           “No need.” Kamilah’s voice made them jump. She had just stepped out of the elevator. “You can go back upstairs, Jacob. Thank you.”

           “Yes, Ms. S… I mean, Kamilah. Boss. I’m going.” The assistant seemed troubled, walking hesitantly away from them.

           Anna opened her mouth to ask what the hell happened to him, but she shut it when her eyes noticed the look on the other woman’s face. Kamilah’s stare started on her shoes, slowly climbing the legs covered by pantyhose, passing through the black flowered dress, lingering a while at the neckline and finally reaching the red lips. The Brazilian felt so deeply analysed a shiver went through her spine. Kamilah’s critical eyes weren’t giving away her thoughts. She could be either enjoying or hating the view, there was no clue.

           “Good evening.” Anna spoke, both hypnotized and insecure. “Uhm… You… You look gorgeous. Well. Fancy. You look fancy. Let’s go with that.”

           Kamilah arched an eyebrow, slightly surprised. “Thank you. May we go?”

           “Sim. May. We may.” Annie sighed. “Sorry, sometimes I still struggle against the language.”

           “Don’t worry. I am familiar with the feeling.” Kamilah walked back to the elevator without even checking if the girl was following.

           “So, you’re not American?” she tried to catch up her fast pace.

           “No. I’m Egyptian. But I came here a long time ago.”

           Annie kept her silence, well-aware that the woman was staring at her again. Maybe that wasn’t a date at all, but a job interview. Maybe she was being considered to fit a position. No… It doesn’t make sense. My work has nothing to do with all of this. When the elevator doors opened, it was to the entrance of a highly fancy restaurant. A tall hostess came to greet them while another one guided both to an empty table by a huge window.

           “Red or white?”

           “What?” Anna looked away from the view. “Oh, the whine. White, please. Sauvignon Blanc.”

           Kamilah kept her posture, not even glancing at the whine menu. Even though her expression was unreadable, the tone on her voice seemed a little impressed. “You heard the lady, Mr. Kendall. Bring us the best Sauvignon Blanc you have.”

           “Right away, miss.”

           Anna watched as the waiter left them, suddenly noticing they were the only two clients there.

           “How was the other professor’s article?”

           “Who?” The Brazilian woman looked down, momentarily searching her memory. There went the fingers entangling again. “Oh. You mean Faith? From that night? It was good. There were a few improvements to do, though.”

           “I see.”

           Anna smiled as the waiter poured the wine for them. Her hands seemed to hesitate, waiting for Kamilah to drink it first, only then taking a sip herself. After that, her body began to relax, black eyes sparkling as analysing the Egyptian’s features. “How was the lecture? Did you enjoy it?”

           “It was pleasant. Some of the speakers were quite good.”

           “I actually googled Ms. Sayeed works afterwards, while I was waiting for Faith.”

           Kamilah’s lips opened a small smile, her voice showing a hint of curiosity. “And?”

           “She has some articles about history I wasn’t aware of. She can be really interesting when is not talking about economics.” Anna taped her fingers together, trying to speak slower so she wouldn’t miss the pronunciation. “I read four of them. Two about history itself. Loved these. She gets the job of the historian in a way only a few do… It’s almost like she can feel the passing of time, our history, differently than the rest of us.”

           Kamilah crossed her legs, still amused. “What about the other two?”

           “It’s hard for me to criticize it, they were about Egyptian history. I don’t know much of this subject. It was well-written, that’s for sure.” Anna narrowed her eyes, like something was finally connecting. “Wait.”

           Egyptian history. Egyptian woman. Ahmanet Financial.

           “This place…” She inclined her head, confused. “Is this place hers? Ahmanet Financial?”

           “Yes, it is.”

           “And you… Are you like… Her partner or something? Do you work for her?”

           Kamilah sighed. I cannot believe this. “Well, yes. I suppose we can say that.”

           Anna was still blushing. A beautiful tone of pink matching the red lips. “I knew the name of this building was familiar. Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have said all these things if I knew she was your boss.”

           “I appreciated the honesty.” Kamilah seemed to become more serious, her smile replaced by a solid face. “Ms. Sayeed… People don’t often say such straightforward thoughts about her work. Although I do disagree with you in many aspects, your opinions were truthful and valuable.”

           Annie closed her eyes of embarrassment. Since she was already feeling exposed, why not rip the band-aid off? “Kamilah, is this a date or a professional meeting?”

           The woman in front of her laughed for a second. “Oh, dear. You couldn’t possibly handle me on a date. Now… Let’s get down to business.”

[lilyjcollins-news]

Lily Collins :“I want to dig deep, tell the truth and be more brave” by Jane Mulkerrins.

(click here to see the photoshoot and here to go to the website.)

The day before we meet, Lily Collins had what felt like a breakthrough encounter. At the end of a short, on-camera interview, the journalist had asked where she lived. Los Angeles, she told him, where her mother was born and raised, and where she has lived since the age of five, when her parents divorced. He then asked where her father lived. England, and partly in the US now, too, she answered. And what did her father do for a living? After some stifled giggling from the crew, Collins, who has just turned 30, gently explained her parentage. “And the guy just looked at me with the biggest eyes,” she laughs. “He’s like, ‘I’m sorry, what did you just say? Oh God, now I feel silly.’”

She insists that she was very grateful for his ignorance. “I’m so proud of my family, but I have also worked really hard to carve my own path and to not have that define me.’”

The daughter of superstar musician Phil Collins and his second wife, Jill Tavelman, she admits that her famous surname has inevitably opened doors, but insists that nobody has ever “made a phone call” for her. “I did get told that I could have other ways in,” she shrugs, when we meet on a rainy New York afternoon. “but I never wanted to give anyone the opportunity to say: ‘Well, she only got X or Y because of that.’ I knew it would take longer to do it on my own, but it would be so much more worth it.”

Collins’s insistence on carving her own path is now paying off, with two high-profile films – Tolkien, and Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, and the US launch of the BBC miniseries Les Miserables, for which her performance as the tragic Fantine is already creating some early awards buzz.

Tolkien, a biopic of the author’s early life, stars Nicholas Hoult as JRR Tolkien, the philologist and author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Ringsseries, while Collins plays Edith Bratt, his childhood sweetheart and, later, his wife, who was the inspiration for Lúthien Tinúviel, the elvish princess in Tolkien’s Middle-earth. “I had auditioned to play an elven character in one of Peter Jackson’s movies, and I didn’t get it… but I’ve ended up playing the woman who inspired the elven princess,” grins Collins. It is her most mainstream, highly anticipated film to date, and a world away from the romcom roles she was getting five years ago. While there’s a heavy focus on Tolkien’s male friendships – the inspirations for his “fellowship” in his books, Bratt is fully fleshed-out and three-dimensional, too, not some flimsy, token love interest. “She was very creative and very passionate and driven, and he was intellectually stimulated by her,” says Collins. Bratt and Tolkien were both orphans. “At that time women of her status and in her position weren’t really afforded the opportunity to seek higher,” says Collins. “But she encouraged him to continue on his path. It’s very selfless, and, at times, heartbreaking.”

She sees a similar selflessness in Fantine, her once-vivacious character in Les Miserables, who becomes a prostitute and sells her hair and teeth in order to feed her child. “I died on day two of filming,” says Collins, with a laugh. She sent a picture of herself in character to her mother, who replied, “No one should have to see their daughter like this.”

“My choices have tended to go quite dark,” admits Collins of her recent roles. Just three days ago, she finished filming Inheritance, a forthcoming thriller in which she stars alongside Simon Pegg. “That’s incredibly dark, too. I really enjoy playing these characters that, under the surface, have so much more going on than they are saying, or who seem like they are barely keeping it together.

“I’ve always believed that asking for help is not a weakness, it’s a strength,” she continues. “I have a tattoo that says: ‘True delicacy is not a fragile thing.’ You can look delicate, but it doesn’t mean that you’re fragile.” I surmise, from her having it made permanent in ink, that people have, perhaps, underestimated her in the past.

Undoubtedly the darkest of her recent projects is Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, about the serial killer Ted Bundy, who murdered more than 30 girls and women in seven US states in the 1970s. The title comes from the judge’s summation of Bundy’s acts when sentencing him to death. Collins plays Elizabeth Kloepfer, the killer’s long-term girlfriend who is convinced of his innocence, with Zac Efron playing a charismatic and persuasive Bundy.

While preparing for the role, over the Christmas holidays, Collins recounts how she would wake every night at 3.05am. “I would go downstairs and have a cup of tea, trying to figure out why I had woken up again.” Then, she says, “I started being woken up by flashes of images, like the aftermath of a struggle.” She went to the internet to investigate. “I discovered that 3am is the time when the veil between the realms is the thinnest and one can be visited.” She began to believe women who were murdered by Bundy were, perhaps, trying to contact her. “I didn’t feel scared – I felt supported. I felt like people were saying: “We’re here listening. We’re here to support. Thank you for telling the story.”

Collins tells me all of this in a completely matter-of-fact manner, as if receiving messages from long-dead murder victims were a perfectly normal part of preparing for a film. It’s pretty much the only moment in our time together when she seems more Californian than British. Even her looks – porcelain skin, dark hair and dramatic eyebrows – are eminently more London than LA. And, while in person her accent is pure California, on screen in Tolkien, her clipped, turn-of-the-century English consonants and vowels are flawless, as are her more working-class ones for Fantine. She looks deeply relieved when I tell her so. “I did worry that people were going to be like, ‘Well, she is actually British, her accent should really be better,’” she laughs. “There’s an extra level of pressure. I worked with a dialect coach as I needed it to be absolutely spot-on.”

Collins was born in Guildford, Surrey, at the height of her father’s success – six months later he would release Another Day in Paradise. Is it true, I ask, that Elton John used to babysit her? “I’ve really got to sit my parents down and ask them questions about that. I’ve been hearing it for so long, but I really have no idea,” she says.

After relocating with her mother to LA at the age of five, following her parents’ divorce, she attended the prestigious Harvard-Westlake school, where former pupils include Maggie and Jake Gyllenhaal, and began auditioning for film and TV roles. “I was getting told ‘no’ all the time,” she says, which she puts down simply to a lack of experience. “I’d done musicals and plays at school, but I hadn’t studied acting or anything, and auditioning for film and TV is very different.”

At the same time, journalism held an appeal, too. “I wanted to be the youngest-ever talk show host,” she says. After pitching ideas to magazine editors, she began writing for Teen Vogue and Elle Girl, and scored a job as a reporter for the children’s channel Nickelodeon, covering the 2008 presidential election and Obama’s inauguration. “I was 18 and I could just vote, so I was like, ‘Oh great, I get to ask all the questions that I don’t know the answers to.’” What she liked less, however, were the questions she had to ask as a roving reporter on the red carpet. “I would think, oh, that’s not what I really want to ask this person, I would hate to be asked that,” she recalls. On the other side of the microphone now, there are questions she simply doesn’t answer, about her personal life, or about politics, on which she refuses to be drawn.

She studied broadcast journalism at the University of Southern California, but dropped out in her second year when, in 2009, after several years of auditioning, she won her first film role, as Sandra Bullock’s daughter in The Blind Side. Soon after, she was perfectly cast as Snow White in Mirror Mirror, followed by Rosie Dunne in Love, Rosie, the adaptation of Cecelia Ahern’s novel Where Rainbows End.

Though acting has clearly won out over journalism and talk show ambitions are on hold for now, Collins is still a keen writer. In 2017, she published Unfiltered: No Shame, No Regrets, Just Me, a collection of personal essays in which she opened up about her struggles and self-doubts, her relationship with her father, with partners, and with her own body, writing about the eating disorders she battled for some years. “A lot of young women write to me on social media [she has more than 14m followers on Instagram], saying, ‘I just wanted to let you know that this is my situation and my insecurity, not that you would ever be able to relate to it…’ and I’ll always be like, ‘No, I really can relate,’” she insists.

Collins describes in Unfiltered how, as a child, she had only positive associations with food, but that changed when she turned 16. Her father was separating from her stepmother, his third wife, while Lily was juggling school, a budding modelling career, a social life and trying to break into acting, too. “My life felt out of control,” she writes. “I couldn’t handle the pain and confusion surrounding my dad’s divorce, and I was having a hard time balancing being a teenager with pursuing two different grown-up careers – both of which I’d chosen myself, but which also focused heavily on how I looked.” She began starving herself, exercising obsessively and became addicted to diet pills and laxatives, habits which continued well into her early 20s.

She pitched the book proposal during a dry spell in acting. “I hadn’t booked anything film-wise for a while, and I was itching to do something. The idea for the book had been at the back of my mind for a while, and I thought, well, maybe now’s the time.” Soon after, she was also sent the script for To The Bone, a film about a young woman with chronic anorexia. “It was too big a message to ignore,” recalls Collins. She attended group therapy sessions with recovering anorexics. “I didn’t want them thinking that I was just coming in to be nosy. I wanted them to know that I actually could relate. It encouraged me to really dig deep and tell the truth, to be more brave. And it was freeing,” she says. Collins sent a copy of the book to Michelle Obama “on a whim. I wanted to reach out to certain people and just thank them for being an inspirational woman, someone who I look up to,” she says. “I certainly never expected to receive a letter back thanking me and saying the same thing. I need to get that letter framed.”

This summer, she’s heading to France to film Emily in Paris, the new comedy-drama from Sex and the City creator Darren Star. “I knew I had so much baggage that I needed to get rid of in order to take on the baggage of all my characters,” she says. “And the second I did that, my career and my personal life opened up in a whole new way.” Collins, it seems, having been drawn to the darkness, professionally and personally, is now heading towards the light.

vía The Observer Magazine.

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 44 - The date, the non-date and the no date

In the previous chapter: Melanie gets mad at Mike in front of all his friends because he didn’t tell her Meg was his ex girlfriend, Meg gets mad too and the two girls end up joining forces against him. Violet tries to have her way with Eddie once again and he finally tells her that the girl who stole his heart is Angie. Violet’s reaction is pretty weird: she leaves the club laughing histerically. In the meantime, the Alice in Chains guys, later joined by Mike McCready too, are trying to console and cheer up Jerry, who’s still shaken for his poor figure with Angie’s dad. His friends try to convince him Ray has no idea who he really is anyway and Angie’ll never tell her dad about him, and he apparently calms down, at least until he remembers telling Ray about intimate details of his sexual life with his ex girlfriend. Later that night, the gang plus Ray go to a bonfire party on the beach. Ray smokes weed with his daughter. We find out Ray’s wife is not Angie’s biological mother. Eddie’s with Angie the whole time and looks kinda jealous when she, pretty drunk, has a funny exchange with Mark Arm. 

***

“Have you heard anything from Mike by any chance?” my roomie asks distractedly after she kindly said goodbye to a customer at the minimart. 

“No, thank god” I grumble, my mouth full of chocolate rolls, my breakfast, I’ve just bought here. Since Angie came up with the idea of excercising, dieting and living a healthy life, sweet food never entered our house again. As if my life couldn’t be worse.

“Well, you’ll have to talk to him sooner or later. I mean, I think you should”

“What? Really? I had no idea this was your opinion. Oh wait, maybe I should have known, since it’s just the 80th time you share it with me”

She’s been going on with this for days, since the night when shit happened between Mike, Mel and I. Of course, she does it her way, trying not to get noticed too much, a little question here, a remark there… after all, I am the one who noses around other people’s life, not her!

“If I share my opinion, it means that I think it’s good”

“It may be good for you, but not for me. And nobody asked you anyway” I add with a smile, before eating what’s left of the second chocolate roll in one single bite.

“Are you not exactly subtly trying to tell me I’m being intrusive?”

“Noooo, not at all! And you’d never be, how could you? I mean, you’re the one who hates when other people pry into her life… nah!”

“My situation is completely different”

“Really? And why?” I’m really curious to hear her excuse.

“Because I’m not telling you to forgive Mike or get back with him”

“Also because if you did, you should be hospitalized in a mental institution or something”

“I’m just suggesting you two meet and do some straight talk once and for all, then you’ll decide” she shrugs as she explains and keeps drawing her little squares on the notepad placed on the counter right in front of her.

“Decide what? How to kill him? Ok, I might accept some advice about the weapon choice if you insist”

“Meg”

“Listen, Angie, I’ve got nothing to tell him and don’t wanna listen to what he has to say, the situation is clear to me”

“Well, good for you that you’ve got your mind made up already, I think I haven’t fully understood Mike yet, maybe just a little”

“I have and I’ll gladly explain Mike to you. At the beginning I was confused too, I thought he was just some guy who didn’t really know what he wanted from his life, someone who creates trouble by simply moving, but basically not a bad person; just someone who hurts you by mistake, unwillingly, only because he does’t know how to avoid it. Like a kitty who hasn’t learnt how to retract its claws yet and scratches you when actually all he wants to do is play with you” I explain and Angie puts her pen down, folds her arms over the counter and starts smiling at me like I think I’ve never seen her before since I met her. She’s almost scary.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. And why the fuck are you smiling like that?”

“You’ve just compared Mike to a kitten”

“A kitten who claws the living hell out of your face”

“A cute and tender kitty cat”

“A fucking scruffy cat carelessly bleeding you dry”

“Still a cute kitten”

“No, I thought he was… a puppy… now I realized he does it on purpose. He really does have fun playing and messing with other people’s feelings, as a sadistic asshole”

“Hahaha who?? Mike?”

“Sure. And there’s nothing to laugh about. Don’t let that sweet and innocent look fool you, his soul is pitch black as the night”

“Sweet uh?” she asks wiggling her eyebrows.

“Fuck you, Angie”

“Meg, I think you’re overreacting”

“Overreacting? Next time you have problems with a guy, I’m gonna laugh at your face as you’re doing with me and tell you not to overreact” I grumpily retort, balling up the wrapper of the chocolate roll and throwing it towards Angie’s face. But she catches it. These trainings with Fitness Wizard Henry Rollins must have improved her reflexes too.

“I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that Mike doesn’t really seem this heartless evil mastermind, that’s all. I’m more for the unwilling confused kitten hypothesis” she answers and throws the wrapping into the bin behind her back.

“At any rate, the kitten’s almost 25 years old, it’s about time to wake up a little”

“I think there were some awakening signals… it’s just about being able to understand them” she remarks, clearly implying something I’m surely about to find out.

“And I didn’t understand them?”

“It’s more that you interpreted them the wrong way”

“Can you elaborate, please?”

“Do you really think Mike didn’t tell Melanie about you because you’re not important to him?”

“If not for that, why then?”

“Well, maybe just because you are important to him, because deep inside he still has feelings for you and didn’t want his girlfriend to mess up your friendship, which in the end was all he had left of you”

“What you say doesn’t make sense from the beginning: he has feelings for me, but he has another girlfriend? Shouldn’t he be with me then? Why isn’t he with me?”

“Ehm… maybe because you told him to fuck off the infamous night of the show at the Off Ramp?”

“Technically yes. But he wasn’t with me even before that, he didn’t want to commit, so the reason is something else”

“Probably he doesn’t want to commit because is insecure, he’s afraid of making a mess of it and, given what happened lately, I’d say it’s a rather well-founded fear. And then… haven’t you ever thought that maybe he feels you’re out of his league?”

“Out of… what the fuck are you talking about?” McCready with a complex?! That’s new!

“Well, you know, you’re beautiful, funny, smart and strong, you know lots of people and basically every guy has a crush on you and would sell one of their kidneys to go out with you”

“Are you hitting on me?”

“Hahaha no, I just wanted to say that, you know, sometimes men can suffer from inferiority complex, with or without a reason. And not just men. It’s a little like me and Jerry… ok, that was a different story, but I’m not talking about the sad ending, I refer to the beginning, before all the shit: when I first met him I thought he was as beautiful as a Greek god and I’d have never remotely dreamt about me and him being together because, I mean, look at me”

“And you were stupid and I always told you”

There she is, talking nonsense as usual! I don’t mind the conversation to focus a little more on her and Jerry uh, I’m kind of tired of talking about Mike after all. But I can’t stand her when she puts herself down like this, I can’t help it. Apart from the fact that she’s so cute and could be with any guy, I can’t believe such a smart girl really gives so much importance to appearance.

“And even when he started to, you know, hit on me, I’ve always kinda avoided him because are you kidding me? Just forget it! And well, maybe that’d have been the wisest choice in that specific case… but ehm that’s not the point. Jerry probably never loved me, but during the months we spent sort of together he must have been vaguely attracted to me at least for a minute, right? Well, I still can’t figure it out, I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now. Then, well, the fact he cheated on me didn’t help to convince me he really liked me”

“Angie you’re completely out of your mind, if Jerry was a dick is not because he wasn’t attracted to you, that’s got nothing to do with that” I retort dumbfounded. Ok, Jerry wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, but how can she still doubt he even liked her? There are two possibilities: either her self esteem is lower than I thought or she’s dumb.

“I know but… well, I can’t help thinking that if I looked nicer, none of that would have happened. It’s something I always think about, the answer I give to myself for everything, not just when somebody dumps me. If I were beautiful nobody would have left me…” her voice becomes a little louder but also shakier, as she lists her stupid assumptions “if I were beautiful, Drake the quarterback wouldn’t have dated me only in secret, if I were beautiful I wouldn’t have got the part of the bush in the third grade’s Christmas school play, if I were beautiful I would have got the job as a receptionist in that luxury hotel near the Space Needle, if I were beautiful someone would spontaneously help me get the items from the highest shelves whenever I shop at the supermarket and I wouldn’t be forced to climb them up risking my life every time”

“But you do know there’s absolutely no connection between these things you mentioned and beauty, right?” as if only good looking people were the only ones to go on in life. And then, what does good looking mean? Who sets the standards?

“Rationally I do, but… but no, because I’ve got the deeply-rooted awareness that my life’d be different if I looked better, but my life is imperfect because I don’t and it’s something that’s always with me. It’s not like I’m always thinking about it, I don’t need to, it’s like breathing or hearing, it’s not like you’re always focusing on inhaling and exhaling or on the fact of having ears, but at the same time you breathe and you hear sounds and you don’t need to give too much thought about it to figure out that after four flights of stairs you’re gonna be out of breath if you already know that you’re out of training, you already know it from the first step but you just don’t think about it in the moment because sooner or later your own limits will show up themselves. I don’t need to keep on reminding myself that I’m not beautiful enough because sooner or later I’ll run into something that’ll do that for me.

“Do you think a beautiful person’s life is perfect?”

“No, just easier in certain contexts”

“Well, then your life is very easy, Angie, because you’re a total babe”

“Are you hitting on me?” she uses my previous joke against me.

“Haha no, but I would if we werent’ both extremely heterosexual”

“And it would be pointless anyway because I’d feel so out of your league, like Mike. Maybe” Angie’s so good at changing subject and bringing back Mike again.

“Mike doesn’t have issues about his looks, at least I don’t think so”

“It’s not necessarily about looks, maybe he thinks he’s not cool or strong enough, not loyal enough, funny enough, tall enough, it can be any fucking thing, I don’t know, he might think he’s not left handed enough because he plays guitar right handed” Angie grabs the pen once again and starts drawing a series of thick dots in line, one for each point she mentions.

“Ok, but what can I do about it? It’s his problem, I never did anything to make him insecure”

“Exactly, it’s his problem and he tried to solve it his way, only that way was wrong. For example, how he always told people alternative versions of your relationship, new guys included, like he did with Eddie at the Off Ramp. Kind of the same thing a certain girl did, you know, trying to keep it quiet about her dating a blond-haired guitarist until the end…” she draws a line that goes from the first dot towards the left, ending with an arrow, then she draws an identical one going to the right.

“Uhm”

“Or trying to forget you with Melanie, a girl who’s always adored him and made him feel cool. Kind of the same thing the same unnamed girl we both know did when she let herself go with an old summer fling and thoughtlessly kissed the hell out of him” two more arrows extend from the last dot in the line.

“But I was a bitch to Mike because he deserved that, the long-haired guitarist was an asshole because he is an asshole”

“I’m not saying the two stories are the same, they’re completely different. But there are things about Mike that I can relate to and, in the end, as I already told you, although for different reasons, we both think we got what we deserved, as twisted as it looks to you” the left arrows are now pointing at a small triangle, the right ones at a rectangle.

“Are you on his side then?”

“No, I’m on your side, his and yours. I believe he cares for you and loves you, but the most important thing is what you feel for him. Because you may have spent the latest nights drinking and talking shit about Mike with Mel, but deep inside I think you’re still in love with him, I think you never stopped loving him or  you’d have already set him aside as old paperwork and you wouldn’t have got so mad when you felt he had cancelled you from his life since he hadn’t told Melanie about you” she goes on as she’s focused on filling the two shapes at the sides of the paper with her pen.

I hate it when she’s right, I hate her very often then. Basically always.

“Maybe I got mad because I just hate him”

“Hate is not the opposite of love, this is commonly known also among those who select the love messages they put in chocolate wrappers, which by the way is the job that you end up doing if you’re not hot enough to get a normal job”

“The opposite of love is indifference”

“There you go! Your semester of Psychology turned useful in the end!” she puts down the pen and stretches her right hand towards me for a sarcastic handshake.

“Don’t push your luck, darling”

“Anyway, what I meant is, yeah, finding out what’s going through Mike’s head would be nice, but your feelings are what really matters”

“And you know my feeling better than me I guess”

“You know them too, but you do anything to hide them. And, I must add, in vain”

“So? What should I do now?”

“Well I… I don’t want to influence your choices, you gotta do what you think it’s right for-”

“Just cut the crap and tell me what to do, come on” I’m honest, when I want to pry into other people’s privacy I just do that, without beating around the bush.

“Well, literally quoting the words a dear friend of mine told me some time ago, I’d say that… Mike owes you an explanation anyway, don’t you think? You should ask him to meet you, tonight maybe, and put him under pressure and have him talk to you and if you don’t like what he says… you can always start a fight” Angie’s suggesting to me the same thing I told her when the story about Jerry in New York came out and he went to Roxy’s to take her home. That was some good advice, and not just because it came from me, even though in retrospect I should have told her to castrate him and throw his dick in the frying French fries oil.

“I never back up from a fight”

“What a coincidence, it’s the same thing my dear friend once told me”

“I could invite him over at our place… what do you think? Would it be better in a neutral place?” I can’t help giving up, after all I can’t reject my advice.

“Nah, it’d be better in a place when you’re slightly advantaged. And where he can’t easily run away from. So our apartment is perfect”

“Right”

“And don’t worry, I’ll try and stay away, maybe I could go to the library and study a little. Or at worst, I could ring Chris and Matt’s doorbell with an excuse”

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re not working tonight! I can ask Mike tomorrow or-” I completely forgot she changed her shift.

“Don’t dare using me as an excuse, just do it tonight, talk to him”

“Ok… but… there’s a but”

“And what is it?”

“Melanie. We’re friends now”

“A very honest and strong friendship, built on the hate for Mike McCready”

“Exactly. If she knew I’m seeing Mike she’d hatefully kick my ass”

“Come on, she… she doesn’t need to know right now after all”

“Wait wait, the good girl is telling me to lie?”

“Sure, I lie all the time. But this wouldn’t even be an actual lie, it’s just leaving out a little piece of information, which is still incomplete by the way, since you don’t know how things are gonna evolve yet. When you have the whole picture of the situation, you’ll think about what to tell her. That is just my two cents anyway, then it’s up to you…”

“I see, it’s just-”

“And who told you she wouldn’t be doing the same thing in your place? I mean, honestly I think she’ll likely do the same. She could have done it already in my opinion”

She’s smart, I must admit it.

“Ok, you convinced me”

******************************************************************************************************************************

As soon as I get out of the gallery I instinctively pull my hoodie over my head, as I foresee the usual 16:30 Seattle drizzle. I’m extremely surprise when I notice, not only the total absence of rain drops, both in the air and on the streets, but even more than a few ray of lights pointing right at my face, right now that they’re almost going down. Just like a couple of rare gems for die hard fans only at the end of a pretty traditional setlist. I pull back the hoodie as I mentally forgive myself for the forced music metaphor, blaming the upcoming tour and the making of the album for that. Actually the amount of songs we’ve got would be easily enough for three albums… well, not that much maybe, just a couple of albums and an ep. Anyway, since our creative streak’s still flowing and far from consuming I can’t see why we should stop. Half of our work may end up in the gutter, or most likely in my parents’ garage, but who knows anyway, maybe the best song of our album is yet to be written, maybe we’ll write it right today.

After I went off like a shot, I decide to slow down the pace, partly to enjoy a little more this almost unknown solar experience, partly because after you spent an hour and a half in a basement, yet doing what you love the most, you need to breathe some fresh air at some point, also to clear your mind. I enjoy Seattle in its best light and although the panorama of the stores and offices on the alley between Belltown and Blanchard is not exactly postcard-like, it’s got a charm of its own. Even the red and green on the sign of the 7-Eleven where I go buy cigarettes seem brighter. As I walk back to the gallery I pick up the pace a little, because at the beginning of the practice session Jeff said something about a riff going through his head since last night and I don’t want him to play it to the others first while I’m not there. When I’ve almost got to the graffiti covered building, the female figure sitting on the sidewalk makes me slow down until I completely stop in front of her.

“Oh I’m sorry little girl scout,  I already bought like ten boxes of your cookies, I can’t give myself the munchies every time only to help your cause” I joke as I notice the green dress under Grace’s white jacket and her small braids Laura Ingalls-style.

“Hello to you too, Stone! How are you doing?” she doesn’t stand up, she just rolls her eyes before saying hi.

“Pretty well, thanks! Well apart from my blood sugar level, it’s all those fucking cookies’ fault…”

“Well, you know, us little explorers walk a lot, burn sugar fast, unlike stoned musicians”

“Given your sense of direction, if you’re an explorer I’m a black belt in karate”

“Do you have nice things to tell me too or you’re planning to focus only on making fun of me today?”

“Actually I didn’t prepare anything to tell you, since I had no psychic premonitions telling me I’d have casually met you in the streets this afternooon, so consider I’m improvising with the first things that come to my mind when I think of you”

“Thank you, I’m happy to see you too. But… I’d not call it a completely casual meeting”

“Because you think fate wanted us to meet and so gave you foot pain just outside my practice space so you’d have took a break right here?”

“Hehe you’re not that wrong, you know? Anyway, more simply, I came here specifically to see you”

“Really? Well, thank you for your visit. Are cookies a present then?”

“What’s up with the record and all the rest?” she asks ignoring my bullshit as I sit down beside her.

“It’s alright, we finally managed to get free from our old record company and deal, I don’t know if I already told you. Anyway, we keep on recording new demos. It’s gonna be a problem when it’s time to pick up what’s actually going and not going onto the album”

“A problem you’re gonna solve by choosing yourself on behalf of everyone else, right?”

“Exactly! You may not be a great explorer, but your insightfulness is remarkable. What about you? How’s it going?”

“I’m fine, thanks”

“Great! Are there… any news?”

“What news?”

“News, I don’t know, new things happening to you that you consider somehow interesting or worth telling, events you usually mention in an average conversation between two people”

“Mmm no, nothing new”

“Ok…” and she came here specifically to tell me nothing?

“I don’t live the hectic life of artists like you, you know”

“Did we already get to that point in the conversation when you insult me as well to balance my cruelty?”

“And I’m not as lucky as some of my friends, who work in retail and can tell funny stories about ehm particular customers”

“Customers? Particular? Who are you talking about?” I know well who’s she talking about, now I know why she came here.

“Oh I was thinking about a friend of mine, his name is Pete, I don’t know if I ever mentioned him to you”

“No, I’m afraid not, never heard of him. Unless his surname is Townshend. Or Sampras. But I don’t remember discussing about them with you”

“He’s a clerk in that huge shoe store in downtown Seattle, do you know that? Right in front of the vegan restaurant”

“Mmm yeah, maybe” it only took me a mini-round of phone calls to find out where the jerk she’s going out with works, ten minutes tops and I had the address.

“Ok, well, anyway he told me a really weird story”

“Wow, I can’t wait to hear it” I say distractedly, with a clearly fake enthusiasm, while I open the pack of cigarettes I’ve just bought and light one up.

“Yeah, about a guy who went there yesterday morning and basically drove him insane”

“Uh really? Everybody knows that after all, that’s how it is when you work in retail” I snicker and I’m not that good at hiding it.

“Like he had him take almost every pair of shoes he had in the shop and not a single one was good. And he kept coming up with more and more absurd technical reasons, like the sole was too thick or too narrow, the color was too colorful, the tip was too pointy, but only after giving Pete the illusion he had found the right one each time. And this was the most evil thing in my opinion!”

“Well, shoes are important, uncomfortable shoes can turn your day into a nightmare, think about it”

“Yeah. And the customer left an hour later without buying anything. Pete wanted to kill him”

“Poor Pete” actually it was an hour and fifteen minutes.

“After he tried on a hundred shoes, he asked if that was all they had”

“Really?”

“And the final nail in the coffin was put as he was leaving the store, when he pointed out that anyway he had just entered to have a look because he had no money with him”

“Come on, is Pete sticking his nose in customers’ financial affairs now?”

“And you… I bet you don’t know anything about it? I mean, about this story…”

“In fact, I know a lot about it!”

“You admit it then?!” she turns around to face me with wide open eyes, thinking she caught me.

“Sure I know about it, you’ve just told me everything!”

So naive.

“Ha-ha, really funny…”

“That wasn’t a joke”

“So have you got anything to do with it? Wasn’t it you, the annoying customer?”

“Not at all, who told you?”

“Nobody, it’s just that Pete’s description of the man reminded me of someone, you know: slender, long hair, big doe eyes, smart ass smile, nice teeth, leopard vest. Does that ring any bells with you?” she turns back around, looking right in front of her.

“If that’s the exact description Pete gave to you, I’d seriously start questioning your boyfriend’s sexuality if I were you, Grace”

“I may have reworked the description a little. Anyway, who told you Pete’s my boyfriend?” she asks me with a side look.

“I tried to guess. Isn’t he?”

“No, he’s not”

“No?”

“I went out with him a couple of times, but I soon realized he’s not really my type and it was the same for him. So we’re just friends”

“Uhm I see. Anyway I didn’t drive your new friend nuts” I retort trying to look totally indifferent at the news.

“That’s too bad though”

“Is it?”

“Well, for a moment I thought it could be you, that you might have been jealous, or simply annoyed, and that you went there with the evil intent of irritating him”

“What?! Hahahah jealous? And wha-” I stand up bursting out in a pretty exaggerated laughter, but what comes next is so unexpected that makes me fall completely silent in a second.

“Do you have any plans for after your rehearsal, Stone?”

“After? Well, I don’t know, after practice I’ll probably go get something to eat and then it depends”

“And what if you go out for dinner with me and then we take a walk?”

“With you?”

“Yeah. Would you like that?”

“And where?”

“Uhm I don’t know, I’d be curious to try that vegan restaurant, what do you think?”

“It’s a trap! You want to take me to Pete for an identification!”

“Hahaha no, Pete won’t be there. And by the way, you’d have got nothing to be afraid of since it wasn’t you…”

“Will you pay for dinner?” I ask her after pretending to ponder about it for a while, in the meantime it seems like she wants to stand up as well.

“If I pay for dinner, you’ll pay for the cinema” she answers and holds out her hand for me to help her up.

“Cinema? Is there cinema too? Isn’t the walk enough?”

“Dinner+walk+movies”

“In this order?”

“We have dinner first, then we can digest our meal by walking and then we can rest at the movie theater, everything has a logic”

“Are you sure you can make it to the movies? You’re tired already, you can’t even stand up”

“Ok well, I’ll be there in front of the vegan restaurant at 7:00 waiting, it’s up to you then. Bye Stone!” she shakes her head, waves her hand bye at me and is about to leave.

“I’ve got practice with the band until seven, make it half past seven” I finally cut the crap and give her a serious answer, so that Grace stops in her tracks and slowly turns around.

“I’ll be there at half past six then” she winks at me, then disappears before I can even say anything, not because she’s fast, she walks away slowly, but rather because she left me totally speechless. And it’s not something that happens to me very often, quite the contrary. And me being left speechless leaves me even more speechless, in an amazed and amazing muteness.

At some point I wake up from my state and come back to reality, so to speak, not completely since I walk up to the main entrance of the art gallery, temporarily forgetting that it’s closed today and that I need to get in from the backdoor. I call myself an idiot before walking around the building and when I’m about to knock on the big door I almost get it right in my face.

“Hey Stone, this is perfect timing. You got any change?” Eddie comes out looking at the sky above him, probably as surprised as I was for the lack of rain, and waves a banknote under my nose.

“Yes, wait, I got some spare change after buying cigarettes”

And apparently, I’ve also got a date.

***********************************************************************************************************************************

The change I just got from Stone’s jingling in my pocket as I quickly leave the alley to go feed the parking meter for Jeff. I came here by bus, public transportation works great here in Seattle. The number of cars in this city is impressive though, basically everybody here has got a car, everyone I know has one and use it to go anywhere, even just round the corner. They sometimes take the bus or train or the monorail too, go to work by bike or skate, but still they’ve got a car anyway. I rarely come here by truck, most of all because of the lack of parking places. The only parking area round here that’s quite large, and free, is Roxy’s one and it was already packed when I came here. As I think about this, I take a quick look at the car park outside the diner, then start putting quarters into the parking meter to add a couple of hours. As I turn the handle to push the umpteenth quarter down, I realize there’s something I didn’t notice in the moment: I look back up towards the diner and focus on the sparkling blue Mini Cooper parked on the left. What the hell is she doing here at this time? She never works this shift. I put the rest of the coins in the machine so that Jeff won’t get a ticket and then quickly cross the road. I don’t need to get that close to spot her through the glass, from behind, as she’s writing down the order of a middle aged couple sitting right next to the window. A few steps closer allow me to better appreciate the sweet curve of her neck, exposed thanks to her protocol pony tail, from which few shorter hair stick out just above her nape and that is the exact spot where all my attention goes, while she nods, smiles and writes down on her little notepad and has got no idea that I’m here, looking at her and wanting to bury my nose right there and give her goosebumps with a trail of soft kisses. I wake up from my cheap romance novel daydreaming when Angie leaves the table and goes behind the counter, probably to pass the order to the kitchen. I sigh, resigned to my pathetic condition, and enter the diner.

When I’m inside, Angie’s already on the other side of the main room, busy removing some empty cups of previous customers from another table. She turns around at the sound of the door bell and welcomes me with one of her usual smiles I’ll never totally get used to, I think.

“Hey Angie” I say hi when we meet halfway, both heading to the counter.

“Hi Eddie, where are you coming from?” she asks and gives me a strange look, stopping in front of the counter with me and placing the tray with the dirty cups on it.

“From the gallery, we’re rehearsing, as usual”

“And you argued with your band mates maybe?” she goes on as she rubs her hands on her apron as if to clean them.

“No, why?” I ask preplexed.

“Did they turn blind then? Because they clearly didn’t even take a single look at you”

“What do you mean?” I insists and I don’t understand and I still don’t understand even when Angie slowly pulls my jacket open and starts unbottoning my shirt. I’m probably giving her an allucinated look because the moment we make eye contact she bursts out laughing.

“Hehehe can’t you see you skipped a button? They’re all messed up”

“Uh… I didn’t notice… I got dressed quickly” I answer embarrassed, as her fingertips unintentionally trace a delicate line going from my chest to my belly, lightly touching me at every button.

“I see. Here, now you’re presentable” she states as she finishes her work adjusting my shirt collar.

“Thank you, mom”

“Wasn’t I a princess? Was I downgraded to mother? Am I that old already?” she inquires, still grasping at my shirt collar with both hands.

“I’d say you’ve been upgraded, to queen, queen mother”

“Haha ok, anyway you’re welcome.” she’s about to let go of me and go back to work, but something gets in the way. And I’m not sorry at all “Oops! Fuck, I must have pulled a thread!”

Angie tries to unstuck the strand that got caught into her watch and still keeps her attached to me and I look at her and smile, doing absolutely nothing to help her.

“Will I still be presentable?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, not a big deal,” Angie manages to pull out the thread from the watchband and then wraps it a little around her finger before cutting it with a quick movement “you won’t remain naked”

“It was like you had me on a leash” I remark, still in the clouds.

“Haha like a dog?”

“Yes. Or like a surf board”

“Do surf boards have leashes?”

“Some do actually. There’s this sort of security cord, you attach the thread to the board and on the other hand there’s a ring you have to tie around your ankle”

“So you won’t loose it when you fall into the water… that’s pure genius” Angie stops examining my shirt when she’s sure that she really didn’t damage it, she goes behind the counter, takes the tray with the dirty cups and spoons and walks away into the kitchen.

“That could be useful for us too, so I won’t loose you when you work alternative shifts” I say as she shows up again on the other side of the counter.

“I’d be the surf board of the two? I thought it was the opposite”

“I am the surfer, so…” I remind her as I sit on one of the stools.

“But I had the ring at my wrist” she retorts showing the wrist where she has the watch.

“Anyway, why are you here now? You usually never work this shift”

“And how do you know?”

“Do I really have to tell you once again I’m a good observer? I feel disappointed”

“I changed shift with Steffy, another colleague of mine, I don’t know if you ever met her. Blond hair, bangs and glasses. Very cute”

“Mmm no, or maybe yes, I don’t remember really”

“She always works the afternoon shift, she was busy today and asked me to swap shifts. She’s also very single, you know? I can introduce her to you if you want” she adds and definitely ruins the moment.

“No, thank you”

“But she’s really nice and funny”

“Sorry if I don’t trust your judgement, since you thought Violet was nice and funny too” I retort as the door bell rings again.

“No, she is for real, really down to earth and… not crazy. At least, she doesn’t look like. Anyway, why don’t you try to find out?”

“Honestly I’m not in the mood for finding out things right now, I’m focused on something else” in fact, in this exact moment all my attention is focused on the two winged lines she drew on her eyelids with the eye pencil. They look identical, but one, the one on the left, is slightly lower than the right one, which must be also a tad thicker than the other one, but it’s a matter of millimeters.

“Yeah, I know, work I guess, with the tour and everything, I can understand” yeah, you really understood everything.

“Right. So what’s your shift then? What time do you end?”

“Oh I’ll be free in an hour more or less” she replies as she walks towards the table where the customers who got here last are sitting, after she gave them some time to look through the menu.

“So your shift ends at six” I tell her as she walks past me, handing the new order and taking the food from the kitchen.

“Exactly” she confirms before walking away.

“What a coincidence, our practice ends at that time too” I lie when she’s right back next to me.

“Really? So early?”

“Yeah, the gallery’s technically closed today, they gave the keys to us and scheduled this rehearsing time”

“I see” she’s apparently lost in her thoughts as she fills the coffee pot.

“Maybe we can do something… together… if you want to”

“Like what?” Angie looks up and her arched eyebrow’s already a sign of suspect.

“I don’t know, like eating something somewhere and then, I don’t know, hang around” I try again, despite the previous failure, for the umpteenth time, and as I do I look at her and see the way she looks at me and I already think about the jokes she’s gonna make, like maybe she’ll suggest to call Stephanie or what the hell is her fucking colleague called, she’ll ask me if there’s something wrong with me, if I’ve got problems, if I’m sad or feeling alone, if I’m right in the middle of a creativity crisis or writer’s block or some other bullshit, whereas I just wanna take her out because I like her so much and I don’t even know how to make her understand.

“Ok, I’m in” she answers, then goes back working on the coffee machine and it takes me a while to elaborate her reply because at the beginning I think I got it wrong and maybe didn’t understand, but I know better than ask her again, most of all because I’m afraid that if I ask her once again I could get a different answer or one of Angie’s typical remarks I referred to before. At some point though I figure out we need some sort of confirmation, someone must make the thing official, because I can’t just drop it without any kind of certainty.

“So is it a yes?”

“Sure, why not? Did you already think of a place to eat?” she says yes and her voice has the same effect of someone pinching you to tell you that no, you’re not dreaming.

“Well, yeah, there’s a couple places that I wanted to try but… we’ll decide together of course. If you want to go somewhere…”

“I have an hour to come up with something, then we’ll decide together, ok?” someone calls Angie from the kitchen, then she comes out with two trays full of plates and heads straight to the tables.

“That’s great! So, ehm, see you here at six then, I’ll come here and get you, I mean, get you out” I try and look not too excited when she comes back, swaying on the stool and placing my elbows on the counter, almost climbing over it.

“Ok, no need to hurry though, take your time, you know, I must get changed and everything”

“Oh ok. So we won’t need to go to your place first, we can go straight away, right?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve got my civilian clothes with me, don’t worry”

“Fine”

“Isn’t it about time to cut this hair?” Angie tilts her head slightly to the left and looks at me with a wide smile, soon censored by the usual quick movement of the lip to cover up the outward pointing tooth.

“Do you think it’s too long?” I ask as I examine a lock of my messy hair, trying to disentangle it with my fingers.

“No, I was talking about this here” Angie moves her hand at my head and then gently strokes the shaved side, which I clearly had exposed without noticing, throwing all my hair to the other side while I was getting all worked up because of her yes, trying to look calm and cool.

“Ah”

“It grew up a lot” she goes on, keeping her hand firm on my head and only brushing her thumb through my hair, both the direction of the growth and against it, up and down, and I think that if she doesn’t stop soon I’ll be screwed because her touch is so delicious that it gives immediate addiction and I gotta go back to the gallery and find an excuse to ditch the guys one hour earlier. And then that one hour will have to pass and I can’t really spend it dreaming of the next time Angie’ll touch me. Also because it’s not sure she’ll do it again and it’d be pathetic to spend our first date trying to come up with tricks to have her touch me.

“Yes, but I decided to let them grow anyway, I won’t shave them anymore”

“No?”

“Nah, I’m tired of that cut, I’ll let them all grow the same and fuck it” I explain as I brush my hand through my hair and lightly touch her fingertips with mine.

“Well, a change is good from time to time. I never did anything to my hair, there are times when I think of having a drastic cut or dying them, I’ll do it sooner or later” Angie pulls away from me and I already miss her.

“A nice side cut for you too?”

“Haha why not? Why not a nice mohawk?” she giggles and I’d want to tell her that she’d be beautiful even if she was bald and had hair drawn in permanent marker, but I decide I’d better spare my best compliments for later.

“Whatever you’re gonna do with your hair, I’m with you”

“Thanks for supporting me! Meg threatens to kill me every time I ask her for advice about changing my hairstyle”

“Well, maybe you should start with something easier, less drastic, then she’ll get used to that. Now… well, I really have to go now, the guys are waiting for me” I stand up from the stool, but I seriously wouldn’t leave this place. Or I’d go but I’d take her with me to the gallery, possibly attached to me or at least as close as possible, maybe carrying her on my shoulders as we did on our way back from the beach party. I’d walk that path back and forth ten times just to feel her all over me that way.

“And you just leave like this?” she asks puzzled and I don’t understand.

“Uh?”

“Don’t you want anything? Didn’t you come here for your usual coffee?”

“Oh! No, actually no”

“Why then?” right, why? To see you, adorable dickhead.

“Well for… for this!” I take my wallet and pull out a dollar “I almost forgot, I need quarters for the parking meter”

Angie gives me the change and we say bye, setting a date for an hour from now.

The door of the diner seems like an inter-dimensional portal, the way back to reality, and when I’m out I need to turn around and look inside the restaurant again to make sure Angie’s really there and that we really talked then and I didn’t dream anything. Only when I cross the road I realize it’s started to rain, the usual afternoon drizzle, a phenomenon that emphasizes even more the contrast between the moment with Angie at Roxy’s and the outside world. As I reach the other side of the road I remain for a while next to the parking meter, pretending to work on it, just in case Angie’s watching and I think I never felt so stupid in my whole life. I still feel stupid, but a little less, when I find the backdoor of the gallery is closed and nobody answer when I knock, although insistently. They’re playing inside and can’t hear me and the drizzle is turning into heavy rain. I try to knock once again, harder, on the metal door, then hold still and listen, not really to hear what they’re playing, but simply to take advantage of the moment they’re not playing to try and knock again and have them come open the door. Anyway time goes by and nobody gives a fuck about me and I end up paying attention to the song, something I can’t recognize. A few more minutes into it and I figure out I really don’t know this song, it must be new, maybe it started from that bass line Jeff was talking about earlier. And the funny thing is the only thing I can hear from the outside is the bass and the more I listen to it, the more it sounds magic to me, but at the same time solid, almost touchable. It sounds like an actual melody rather than a simple bass line. As I lean against the building wall as much as I can, looking for a non existing shelter from the rain, I stick my hands into my pockets and in one pocket I feel the change Angie gave to me, in the other one I find a piece of paper. I pull it out and I immediately remember my little theft: it’s the page of the notepad with the small triangles and squares drawn by Angie at the mini mart. Since I’m locked out I might as well try and come up with something. Luckily I always have a pen in my pocket, I may forget wallets, cigarettes, put on two different socks, button down my shirt all fucking wrong, but I never forget to grab a pen before I leave home. I fold the scrap of paper into four and place it against the wall, I hold my pen and I’m ready to get inspired: and all I can think about right now is Angie, her tender way of looking at me and taking care of me, her hands, my longing for her touch that I can’t wait to feel again, the thread that connected us physically for a moment and the one that figurately keeps us together and helps us finding and not losing each other through the waves, of the ocean. Like my favorite one, the one that’s got her name.