She is a dream.
His dream.
The one that's forbidden. But he doesn't care. Just for one afternoon. She is his.
He is hers.
Even though she doesn't know it, he pretends she does. What is pretending for one afternoon. He deserves it. He deserves one afternoon to himself. He would give up the rest of his life for one afternoon.
With her.
Her midnight black hair is sprawled all over her shoulder, swallowing the sun rays. It's shining. Enchanting.
He is enchanted.
She is happy. The last rays of the day bouncing on her cheeks giving it a pinkish glow. How he wishes to touch them. Her eyes. So shy. They don't hold his stare more than a few seconds. Still he stares at her unashamedly.
He is in an awe of her.
He says something. She laughs. The sound of a thousand anklets ringing in his ears. He could die listening to that sound.
If only she knew.
He wants to know everything about her. He only got one afternoon. He asks about her favorite color, her favorite flower, her favorite scent, so fast. He almost forgets to breathe. He hasn't got time.
He only has her for one afternoon.
She laughs again. His heart beat rises. She asks him about his favorites. Doesn't she know? It's all her. Her scent in an enclosed place, where it has nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He could steal all of it with just a whip. He breaths her in.
The smell of flowers, sweet but natural.
He loves her smell.
His hand itches. To touch hers. Her bangles shine in the rays of the dying sun. They also sound like anklets when she moves. For a second, he pretends she won't be completely aghast if he holds her hand. For a second, he pretends this is their first date. He'll make sure to pay for her coffee.
To keep up the pretense.
What if the afternoon never ends. What if it goes on for eternity. Will she notice? Would she care?
Would she want it to end?
Her pouty lips close around the rim of her coffee mug delicately. He wishes to be that mug.
Her dainty fingers thrum on the table in a rhythm. She seems lost in that rhythm for a second. He wishes to be that rhythm.
Northern wind blows past her, trying to take some of her midnight locks with it, but fails. He doesn't wish to be that wind.
He just wishes to be with her.
She was distressed this morning. But she looks happy now. He will take all of her pain away.
Tell me about your family, she says.
She wants to take his pains away too.
Why?
Because she cares, you fool.
Why does she care?
Because she loves you.
He pretends.
His reality crashes onto him for a second. Like a blurr. His face pales. She becomes distressed. She tries to take his pain away. Wasn't he supposed to do that for her?
Maybe they could take each others pain away.
If only it was that simple. Or maybe it is. If only he was still the rebel he was in his youth. Growing up hurts. So many responsibilities. No time for mending the bleeding heart.
She asks, what's wrong.
Her care inflates his heart. If only he could convey everything that's on his mind. If only he could lay it all on her feet. Will she gather all of him? Give him a place in her heart.
Does her heart has a place for him?
She says she's never been in love. He hasn't either. Were they waiting for each other? Was their fate waiting for them to meet? He pretends it did.
For one afternoon.
What would it be like? A life with her. He tries to picture it. It comes naturally. Being lost in each other. He would forget everything else in his life if she was in it.
He will be lost in her unashamedly.
It doesn't even scare him. He has it bad for her, hasn't he? He chuckles. No matter the pain he can't bring himself to regret anything.
It has been a privilege to hurt for you.
He notices everything about her. The way she crinkles her cute little nose or widens her brown doe eyes, or plays nervously with her midnight black locks, he sees them all.
She is something else entirely.
She also notices. Her eyes look through the window of the café. Her posture stiffens. He looks out as well. It's getting dark. He hasn't even realized how his afternoon went away from him. It's supposed to last longer.
His one afternoon with her.
Let me drop you off, he says. Her posture visibly relaxes. He doesn't know if it's because of him or she just didn't want to go home alone in the dark. Is she still scared because of the other night?
He will slay a thousand dragons for her.
She rises from her seat. Her bangles play their tune. Her hair, more wild than ever, dances on her shoulder. The northern wind is back. It's stubborn, he will give it that. But it won't win any part of Aleya. Like he won't win any part of her.
His palm itches again to take a hold of hers. Just one move. He just have to raise his hand a bit. She is only two feet away from his touch.
But she isn't his to touch.
Out of the café to his car, only one thought keeping him sane. She will be in his car with him. Just a few inches away. He can't wait to be assaulted by the intoxicating smell of her.
His one last time of being close to her.
He opens her door. She slides in.
Long strides take him to his door. He slides in.
He doesn't breathe for a second. Preparing himself. Then he inhales. Long and deep.
There she is.
His Aleya.