Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

128(M)Mattex

You Hit Me Like the Sky Fell on Me

                    riversdamsel

Her hands are the first thing he falls in love with- small with slight fingers that wrap perfectly around her glass of wine and flip the pages of her book with such delicacy that he can’t help but think they are perfect.

Smiling, Matt reaches into his bag and pulls out his almost full sketch pad and pencil before flipping to one of the few remaining empty pages and returning his gaze to the next unsuspecting victim of his drawings.  Everything about the scene-  the wind ruffling her curls, the light of the sun reflecting off her skin, the intensity of her eyes as she reads, completely oblivious to everything around her- is just begging to be captured by his pencil.

The blank page soon comes to life as he sketches the slight slope of her nose, full lips, long neck, wild curls- which are insanely difficult to recreate on paper- and finally, finally, her hands.  Matt can’t help but stare as his eyes lock onto the slow motions of her fingers travelling down the page of her book before slipping her forefinger under the corner and flipping it.  When she stops mid-flip, his eyes flick from her fingers to her face and oh, she’s looking right at him.  His breath catches as he looks at her, properly looks at her, for the first time- she is beautiful.

He quickly drops his gaze back to his paper, feeling a slight blush creep its way across his cheeks as he realizes he had been staring.  Scratching awkwardly at the back of his head, he notices too late that his pencil is rolling off the table, but makes a frantic grab for it anyway.  It clatters lightly against the floor and he dives after it, hissing as he moves to get back in his seat and promptly whacks his head on the underside of the table.  To keep from voicing a loud string of curses, he clenches his teeth together as he settles back in his seat.  Her soft chuckle reaches his ears and damnit, of course he had to pick now, out of all moments, to show his clumsiness.

Wishing he could temporarily disappear, he focuses back on his drawing, only daring to sneak quick glances at her every few minutes.  Her attention is back on her book, though her eyes are lit with amusement and by the way her lips are pressed tightly together, he swears she’s repressing a smile.

He’s putting the finishing touches onto the wineglass she’s holding when he looks up and suddenly feels everything around him come to a stop- she’s gone.  His shoulders slump as he stares at the empty seat, supposing that he had wasted time by using the past few minutes to try to mentally build up the nerve to go talk to her.  He had at least wanted to know her name.

“That’s actually quite good.”

He jumps, startled by the voice coming from right behind him.  Matt turns to find her standing there, smiling brightly with one hand on the back of his chair and the other on her hip.  “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he says quickly, avoiding her gaze as he closes his sketchbook.  She plops down in the chair across from him and crosses her legs, the hem of her sundress riding up her thigh- not that he notices- and regards him with a raised eyebrow, “And why not?”

“Well,” he starts, fidgeting with his hair, “most people would think of it as an invasion of privacy or just out right creepy- borderline stalker-ish even, but that’s not it at all because when I see something I like I just need to draw it and oh god, that doesn’t sound good at all, does it?  I just meant that I like your hands and-” she cuts off his rambling here, a fond smile playing across her lips, “My hands?”

Matt nods and holds out his hand, silently asking for hers.  When she places her hand in his, he ignores the sudden jump of his heart and tries not to notice how perfectly they fit together- as if her hand was made to fit his.  His thumb brushes lightly over her knuckles before turning her hand over and lightly running his fingers over the lines of her palm, across the creases of her fingers and up to her fingertips while explaining just how perfect he thinks they are.   When he looks up, she’s staring at him as if she’s never seen anything quite like him, smiling softly.