They rode in silence. Until he reached the very top and the trace of the once-walked path disappeared into naturally groomed bushes of weeds and grass, he kept driving. He braked softly because he believed only non-carers brake hard.
They disembarked and started walking, a clear one-foot distance between them. His line of sight didn't waver to her side even to a degree. She, on the other hand, kept giving up slightly every few steps. They reached the edge of the cliff. Not another human was in sight. The view in front of them was the only point of focus. They sat down and watched in silence. His grey matter fissures were in overhaul and he felt and seemed unsettled. The horizon was a hue of pink and orange, a tranquil yet exemplary painting of sorts. Sitting amidst an occasional rustling of grass, here and there, they witnessed the sun dip faster than they expected, and in a jiffy, it was totally gone. But darkness was yet to descend upon them. That was the moment he chose to clear his throat, sending an arrhythmic disturbance to her pulse. She felt his stare on her earlobe.
‘Look at me.’ His voice came out firm but fear-laced.
She turned to face him.
‘In the past few weeks of knowing you, have I ever touched you?’
‘No.’ Ambiguity ran amuck in her brain waves.
‘Do you know why?’
‘No.’
‘Because I was waiting to see if I can do away with it.’
His fingertips were spinning imaginary saucers around each other like he was relieving an ache with a massage. She had cocoons swimming in her digestive juices, waiting to explode into butterflies. She anticipated him to rough pull her, causing their bodies to collide and her mind to free fall from that cliff that swallowed the sun a few minutes ago.
‘Have you felt something unexplainable between us? Or is it just me?’
She didn't expect that question. She wanted to quickly travel back mental miles that she passed in her open-eyed dream and step up with an apt reply.
‘You're not alone. I felt it too.’ She was failing in her attempts to be distanced.
‘That's a relief.’ He pinched the center of his brows briefly. He turned to see the meek rays of light on the edge as if mentally preparing his next line.
‘I want to touch your hands. Can I?’
Swimming cocoons were back and her stomach acids were eating their yarn covers sway.
‘Yes.’
‘Stand up.’
They both stood facing each other. Faint light fell on their faces. He moved closer. If her veins were strings, his gaze was strumming them.
‘I am going to hold your hand now.’
She was a lithe leaf holding on to the branch with just its feeble edge, not wanting to give up and be blown away by the brooding tornado that was him.
‘Alright.’
He took her right hand gently by the fingers and drew random designs on her palm. His eyes were following his drawing patterns while her eyes searched for infinite answers on his face. He met her eyes.
‘I want to touch your face now.’
He was waiting for her approval and she blinked her eyes with a slight nod of the head that was a sign of "Go ahead" to him. He used the tip of his index finger to trace her jawline. She shook lightly at that first contact. He took his other hand up and used his two index fingers to draw an imaginary circle around the edges of her face. She closed her eyes and felt goosebumps on her forearms.
‘Open your eyes. I want you to look me in the eye and listen carefully.’
They stared at each other. Her lips twitched when his eyes looked closely at the corner of her mouth. He spoke fast.
‘I like you. Jeez! that is an understatement. I always felt a feverish excitement in my gut from the moment I met you. I have wanted to touch, hold, kiss, and do much more with you. I felt foolish about my feelings and wanted to ride them out.’
She noticed an enjoyable frustration on his face.
‘Weeks passed. They never went away. When you walked past me, the hairs on my neck would stand. I went half-mad trying to suppress my instincts towards you. You were no help. You kept appearing wherever I went. Even when you didn't, your strange natural scent aroused my many senses. I didn't know you well enough to call it love. It was an attraction but beyond the physicality. Now, I am not sure what to do, why I am standing here with you watching the sunset, holding your face, and feeling all jittery inside.’
He stopped and caught his breath which he didn't know he was holding. All along, his palms were cupping her face by her cheeks. He took a breath and spoke again.
‘I want to kiss you. I want to see if the madness inside my head will subside after I kiss you. I want to hold you in my arms, take my time to kiss you. Properly.’
She felt his heart thundering inside his chest. Hers was no different, except she didn't know what was coming next.
‘I want your permission.’
That was unexpected to her. He bulldozed her with his unpredictable questions. She wanted what he proposed. So, she moved closer and settled into his embrace, and waited. He kept still. She realized, then, and spoke.
‘You have my permission.’
He waited and looked at her for a long minute, his thumb started stenciling her eyebrows, moved to the tip of her nose, and circled her lips very lightly.
‘I am going to kiss you now. I want you to close your eyes and tell me later about how you felt. That would help me decide if I should discard my feelings or go on. Okay?’
‘Okay’
He moved closer. Their breaths embraced first. His lips touched hers briefly. She let out a hurried, ragged puff of air. Then, the two sets of lips muddled into a mass of indescribable shapes. His eyes shut quickly. It would make an ignorant passerby think that he is in excruciating pain. But, no. He was edging on his control to slowly savor the moment. She heard her blood gush through the veins inside her eardrum. He stilled and broke contact briefly.
‘Let me in.’
She did and he snaked his tongue through. The kiss looked like a duet dance to an intimate yet unrehearsed melody. Her hands moved to hold the sides of his torso and bunched his shirt there. His palms were covering her temples, his fingers gently stroking her scalp. The kiss deepened. They both felt breathless and overwhelmingly drawn into the vortex of emotions inside their heads. His grip on her loosened and they both blinked open their eyes, together, as if on cue. It was dark. It was night.
‘It's late. Let's drive back.’
She was slightly ashamed of her mind’s internal protests to halt the sensory overload that she just experienced but was too proud to say it out loud.
‘Alright.’
‘Before we go, what's the verdict?’
‘What do you think?’
She said to herself that two can play this game of words.
‘I think you didn't hate it.’
She blushed without showing pink on her cheeks. ‘You're right.’
‘Okay.’
They rode back in silence. She felt anxious throughout the drive back. There was a storm brewing in her pulmonary center that made her squirm. He watched her from the corner of his eye and smiled inwardly. She wanted more. She wanted answers and he knew it but had no intention to do anything about it. And, she didn't want to reveal her hand first by asking. The silence was becoming too deafening for both. They reached her flat and he walked her to the door. She sighed a bit too loudly and he felt her giving up conviction inside her head.
‘When can I 'not hate it' again?’ There! She said it.
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
He reached slowly and picked a non-present speck of dust from the strap of the dress over her collarbone. Her eyelids closed slowly like a peacock folding its feathers after a drizzle and she leaned her cheek into his palm. He moved closer to whisper in her ear.
‘It depends on whether you're able to rest peacefully tonight or not. Sleep tight.’
His words were raspy and hooking. She was spiraling fast inside her mind. She opened her eyes and saw his sleek backside turn the corner and disappear. The expressions on her face showed her emotions in a sequence. Desire melded into confusion which was replaced by annoyance. Anger took over from there and transformed into frustration. Slow realization dawned and made way for clarity. Then, there was a pitch-dark blank that quickly cascaded down into a deep desire again. A sheepish blush and a coy smile followed and ended with contentment. She closed the door and stood clasping her purse close to her chest, her back to the door. She said to herself "That's quite a start".
“Holy! Mom! What in seven hells should I make of this story?”, he asked himself looking up at the ceiling. But then, he knew he has to figure it out. He stared at the gift wrap that it came in, smiled to himself, and picked up his phone to text his dad.
<Read chapter 18. Need a cold shower.>
His mind drifted back to all of those previous chapters gift-wrapped similarly, that were waiting for him every year, this day. Each of them had a subtle teaching for him but this one! He had too many questions that probably needed a large panel of experts to answer. He wanted to be able to know them all. But he already made peace with the fact that the person he called ‘mom’ was one stubborn lady that wouldn’t budge. The ritual started way back on his 12th birthday when she laid a small notepad in front of him instead of a cake. He didn’t get his party until he read chapter 12 and texted her his learnings. Ever since that day, he has been secretly looking forward to these puzzles under the visage of an annoyed teenager who just wanted to have his cake and eat it too.
He took his phone and started clicking the keys. After a few minutes of typing and erasing, he pressed ‘send’.
<Patience, verbal seduction>
He waited for what felt like an eternity when he heard a familiar ding.
<And?>
‘This impossible woman’, he cried loudly to the walls. He went back to the torn gift paper and reread the entire manuscript. And again. And again. He read a dozen times and each time, he smiled more and more to himself. Reading the same lines over and over, the words started speaking to him. He closed his eyes, and drifted into the world of sunsets, cliffs, intimate conversations, detailed descriptions, and ….
‘Damn! She’s good', he thought to himself, returning to his phone to text.
<Consent>
Ding!
<Your gift is in the mailbox. Happy birthday. Love, Mom.>
