5th April, 20??
Conversations II
Dear Dia,
Perhaps I ought to say to hell with my conversations with Liam and get on with the present. But we know that can never happen. You seem to have taken a liking to him more than I do, myself.
Anytime I write his name on your pages, I feel the paper furrow in anticipation for the next word. So, I must tell you every detail. In so doing, I replay our conversations in my head, his baritone voice like the sound of echoing ripples in a well, messing with my mind.
Nevermind my opening paragraph, I love telling you about Liam cause it feels like reliving the memory and I, very much want it to be on endless loop. Engraving his words and expressions on your pages makes them eternal. I can always read and relive them whenever I want. But before I jump right into it, let me sum up my day.
On second thought, I think I would rather finish with the past before the present.
After what must have been the hundredth time that I glanced at him without him returning the gesture, I reminded myself that he may make my heart somersault and flip, but I can't be the girl who tolerates a jerky attitude. I resolved not to offer him any other glance and to make that happen, I stood and sat with my back turned against the counter.
Tranced by the words that floated across my laptop screen as I typed my essay. I didn't notice him behind me. I don't know how long he stood behind me reading my words until he nestled closer, and I felt his breathe on my neck. He smelled of grass, earth, sweat and a woody note cologne - vetiver, if my nose serves me right.
For a while, I allowed his smell to float around my senses, clogging my nostrils until he sighed. A rush of hot air graced my neck and, without warning, I turned and we collided. Dia, I mean that in a literal sense, my jaw collided with his nose and he cursed.
I merely felt pain in my jaw, but for him– he was groaning and cursing so loudly that even with the music thrumming in my ears from my headphones, I still heard.
"Fuck! Crap! Ouch! Fuck!" He kept cursing, his figure bent and his hands to his nose. Either he was truly in pain or he deserves an Oscar. I removed my headphones, clapped shut my laptop and focused on him.
"Are you alright?" I asked as he sat across from me, his hands still clutching his nose.
"Am I alright?! You just broke my nose, and you are asking if I'm alright. Of course, I'm not!. I thought females were supposed to have soft and tender bones. Why are yours like a hard rock… ow, ow, ouch…", he groaned.
In spite of the surety that he wasn't faking it, I couldn't help but burst into laughter. You should have seen his face, Dia, as he groaned and whined like a child. It was downright hilarious. Laughter tugs at my lips now as I recall the memory. How could he be in such pain when he had spent years playing football? Surely he must have received worse on the field. And the damn thing wasn't even bleeding, so why the fuss?
"So, this is funny to you…" he was still speaking, but I couldn't hear as I bent over clutching my stomach and continued laughing. His expression was so rib-tickling, I couldn't help it.
Then, he removed his hand from his nose and smiled. It was like watching the sun rise, his entire face lit up with a glow that made even his eyes shine. There was something about it that made me stop laughing, and I just stared. I hear most people can hinge another with a gaze, a gesture, or even with a smile… but Liam's smile was more. So much more. When he smiled, like really smiled as he did then, one can be tranced by the sight. The eyes just forget how to blink and wholly submerse in the features of his face.
I don't even think I'm doing justice with the description, but Dia, it was really entrancing. I was still gawking when he said with that smile still stretching on his lips,
"At least, that made you laugh. At least you are no longer storming. Glad I got to hear your beautiful laugh, it's indeed a sound appealing to the ears. One you should do often. But that shit hurt like hell, forget that I'm smiling, it really was and don't try to touch it. I will put some ice on it when I get home. Oh Mace, you have ruined my perfect face, this will surely swell by morning."
I hadn't even realized that I was reaching to touch his nose until he had told me not to. What was I thinking, trying to touch him? It was bad enough that just being this close to him was confusing. Surely a touch would set me on fire. Trying to make up for that foolish gesture, I said,
"Believe me, I didn't mean to laugh, it was just the way you reacted, it was so funny. And I'm sorry about that and for damaging your perfect nose, but that's what you get for spying on someone."
With a wave of dismissal, he replied,
" Oh it's nothing, I will live. Besides, if that was the price to get you to laugh, I would gladly pay, again and again. Though I won't exactly call what I was doing 'spying'. I was merely helping you proofread."
" And?" I queried.
" You don't have to change anything, it's perfect, though I would very much like to finish it once you are done. Dear old Mr Thornton will definitely love it, but it makes me wonder how you managed to become and stay a wallflower with such beauty and brains?"
My cheeks had colored at his words, and I found meeting his eyes- a herculean task not when he was looking at me like I was fascinating. Like every gesture and expression I made, was alluring.
An awkward silence settled between us. I tried to focus on my essay, and he fidgeted where he sat.
"Um… um… I… I'm…" his words kept echoing in stutters. I knew he was trying to apologize, but it seems he's not used to it. He must always have been on the receiving end, even when he was wrong. That's one of the many advantages of being generously gifted with striking looks. But I wasn't going to let him off that easy. It's either he apologizes even if it draws on stutters or he would forget it.
As if reading my thoughts, I heard him say,
"Oh fuck it! I'm… um… s-o-r-r-y, isn't that what you want me to say? Fine! I have said it."
It took a considerable amount of restraint for me not to burst into another fit of laughter. He had stressed the word like it was vile to his lips and poisonous to his tongue. Perhaps I need to vex him more often, so he can learn how to apologize more frequently.
His teeth still clenched as he waited for me to say something. Both sides of my lips tugged with the laughter I was desperately keeping from escaping. It took deep breaths before I could subdue them and then I teased,
" What exactly are you apologizing for? For spying on me, for being a jerk earlier or for almost crushing my jaw with your nose?"
The look on his face made the whole thing worth it. I was really loving the effects my words left. As if things couldn't get more interesting, he banged his knee on the table as he made to stand. That did it, the laughter I had been holding burst free, a boisterous sound that lacked feminine grace.
In spite of his anger and the rage that boiled within, he joined in the laughter, and together we laughed our lungs out of air. Only when he had sat back, when our laughter had dulled to giggles and chuckles, did I say,
"I'm sorry for all that, but has anyone really told you that you are funny when you are angry?"
He merely smiled at that, his lips parting to reveal a row of impeccably straight, gleaming white teeth that rivaled that of Tom Brady's, framed by flushed full pink lips that curled effortlessly into a warm, inviting grin. Each tooth was perfectly aligned, like polished ivory pearls glistening under the soft orange and gold glow of the evening sun. Then he spoke,
"It's actually one of the reasons I joke and tease too much. My anger, I mean. Several factors have fueled it over the years and to curtail it, I resolved to joke and amusement. I know it doesn't make what I did alright, but I'm working on it. I've made a friend or should I say, friends, who could help me work through it. Once again, I'm sorry for being a jerk."
If his words hadn't been very sincere, I still don't think I would have said no, not with those puppy dog eyes. Not with that look on his face. Finally, surrendering to those black holes,I huffed,
"Fine! Fine! Apology accepted, come sit with me and let me show you how I solved the Algebra exercises."
As he sat in such propinquity to me, I tried not to explode when his fingers grazed my skin or when his knees occasionally kissed mine. Liam was really terrible at Algebra, he kept getting it wrong when I finished explaining it to him and handed him an exercise to show me that he understood. Heaven knows, I have never been a patient person, but for him, I kept on trying until he could solve them.
We discussed, as we learned, conversations that you, Dia, would very much like to hear, but I must cast the curtain here.
I have cheerleading tryouts tomorrow and I must best the other candidates if I want to take Sofia's place. The spot just opened after it was confirmed that she was indeed pregnant for Tim, a senior. The Divas had tried to make sure I didn't know about it, but Henry had been resourceful. So I must secure that spot if I want a shot at dethroning the Divas. I guess we'll see tomorrow, bye-bye, Dia.