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dante | nova
[REAL-LIFE]
When they leave the restaurant, Dante's hand is slipping in hers. She tries not to inundate herself in how warm his touch is, chasing away the numbness caused by the coldness of the chilly Toronto summer night.
"So what is this place?" Dante asks her as they walk along the concrete pavement, weaving and dodging through the throngs of people heading out to their favourite places for a night out.
"It's not too far from here, actually. It's this really cool place called 'The Basement' and it's vibe is really cool. Think Brooklyn, think 90s, think grungy."
Nova can't help but memorize every detail of him, perforate them in her mind like it's information for an exam. She likes how he tends to walk with his hands in his pockets and how his sandy hair is free-falling into his eyes. She likes how he doesn't dress like most boys his age- baggy pants, oversized sweatshirts and Adidas sneakers. Instead, he dresses classy. Button-down plaid shirts, jeans that actually fucking fit him as they are snug around his waist. She likes how he's very different from the boys she had dated in the past- different from the angry frat boys with daddy issues, the fuckboys parading around parties like a dog in heat, the heartbreakers with their smirks that drag on your pupils, the leather jackets with their broken promises.
Instead, he's soft with weathered cheeks and a wide smile. He wears his heart on the hem of his sleeves. She likes how he has tousled blonde-brown hair and eyes that melt like the honey she's dreaming of melting and drinking. She likes how her heart becomes a sudden staccato-ed grenade whenever his gaze clashes with her chocolate ones and how scarlett flocks up through her bones when his arm accidentally brushes against hers. She likes how he's cautious with his words and uses them sparingly because he knows the cost of them. She likes how he's sensitive and isn't afraid to show that he is. She likes how he acts like he cares in a world obsessed with seeming like they don't.
When they finally arrive at the place, it's already packed. A formidable line is building up outside of the entrance so naturally, they queue by the back to go in.
"Are you enjoying college so far?" Dante inquires as they inch through the line. Nova nods.
"It's alright. No one has brought up the whole scandal actually," Nova admits, rubbing her palms and placing them in her pockets. The cold breeze tickles her bare shoulders, which is exposed by the off-the-shoulder top she's wearing.
"That's good. What about the change of major?" Dante is unabashedly unafraid of eye contact. His gaze is steady and heavy on hers. She finds that she likes that a lot. In a world of waiting and anticipating, Dante is an action-taker. He wants to engage with you so he establishes deep eye-contact that never leaves your face. He wants to forward his future so he takes himself to Amsterdam while people his age are either wasting away, hating themselves because nothing ever happens to them. The thing is nothing is ever going happen to you unless you make it happen.
