Wanting It and Not

                                                                                                                   Continued from

                                                                                                                 #III Shades at work.

“Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us.”
                                                                                                      ― Donna Tartt,
                                                                                                         The Goldfinch

I got up, went and stood at the window. Inside I could almost smell him. I wanted fresh, cool air to soothe my warm cheeks. Have You ever stood against the wind after a heated moment? After You could feel the blood gushing to swell Your cheeks and later the air trying to calm the run down. The easing off of the feeling? I stood there staring at the cosmic marvel that spread infront of me. The sky twinkling in their ecstatic sheen. For how long? I don’t remember. But I did stand for quite a while. I was still lost in the glow of a dying star when a whiff brought me the smell of his cologne again. I Ignored.

My senses were playing a trick on me. I had allowed myself to sway so towards him. No wonder I had that aroma almost planted in my memory. Another inhale brought in an even stronger one. Something curled into me. I couldn’t resist a turn. So I turned so suddenly that almost tripped over and was very close to falling down the huge French window…when two strong arms caught me into them.

It had been ages since I had felt so safe, relieved, relaxed and secured. And in these strange arms. Who was he? What was this?…

He cut into my philosophical line of thought cheekily.

“You could have asked me to take You into my arms, I would have done it. Happily. There was no need to pull a stunt like this.”

“ I have better things to ask for” i retorted.

“Like?”

That moment froze for me there. It just lasted. Cold mild breeze, playing with his tousled hair. My hands sensing his heart beating furiously, his lips twitched in some angle I couldn’t decipher. And his hands sensing some pulse in my neck. His soot-black eyes staring intently and warmly into mine. I wanted the moment to last a life-time.

“Like sweet-heart? Can’t think of anything to ask for from me?”

I turned irate.

I was swelling with laughter.

“LIKE leaving me NOW!” I snarled.

He dropped my hands and held me just enough to stand. All so suddenly- I lost my grip.

I almost fell.

He froze with fear.

I was enraged.

We both burst into peals of laughter.

---------------

His cell rang again. The same radiant chuckle. I was burning with envy. Unhealthy? Unnatural? I didn’t care. All I could think was at this time of the day who could it be? An over-concerned girl-friend. Ofcourse. Ofcourse… what was I even thinking! He was only flirting with me. And I too had no reason for my rash behavior. But my emotions were flowing uncontrolled and unchecked. I hated it.

He gave me a glance, maybe to check on me. I resolved to give him a hard stare reminding him he was keeping me waiting. I ended up observing his smile gently.

Alright. This could be normal? Right? This anxiety consuming my hours. I knew I had to regulate these raging hormones.

When finally we seated ourselves in the car. I hated him all the more. I don’t really like cars. I hate their smell, their movements, their swerves. They make me sick.

But his was pristine white and comfy.

But this struck my fancy.

It was the way he maintained his car..not like a boy. Like a man.

Anyway he started to drive.

And I was convinced that he would be driving the car rough and me mad. But..lo.. NO! He was composed and proper. Precise in his driving and sharp in his turns.

And it didn’t even feel domineering. Control was more his thing. He wasn’t authoritative, just orderly… “Good for You” I thought. Took a deep breath facing outside of the window. And braced myself for the ordeal of the road with him ahead.

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To be continued…

“If I have you for a day, I’ll want you for a week. If I have you for a week, I’ll want you for another week.”
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  ―Michael Stein                                                                                                        In the Age of Love

This is a continuation of a series am attempting to get You all hooked on to.

You can read the previous parts here:

Part I: The coffee Mug

Part II: After the broken Mug.

Part III: Shades at work

Happy reading.