He and She

He fell for her laugh. They were friends for months before, talking often on the phone and in the rare chances they saw one another in person. They frequently passed each other on the way to class or sat next to each other in a lecture. Her laugh was intoxicating as that laugh could turn caterpillars into butterflies. Whenever he’d talk, he’d try to make her giggle because it lit up a room and made his heart skip a beat. It could change the course of a river in a moment’s notice.

She liked his passion, how he cared about everyone. When he’d enter a classroom, he’d greet the professor with a handshake and his classmates with questions of how their weekend was. She thought it was nice how he’d visit dormitories to give them pick-me-ups with coffees and food, or he’d work with students in the library.

They went on the occasional drive together to Walmart, so they could save up on gas money. They could talk about anything under the moon and sometimes their conversations would fly above that atmosphere and all the way towards Neptune. They were best friends even if they didn’t see each other at every waking moment of the day.

He sat with friends, constantly pushing for him to ask her out. Logan grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him around, ‘Look at me, man. You are in love. I mean, Christ- the way you talk about these dumb conversations, the way you keep mentioning her blue eyes. You are in love.’ Logan cracked open another bottle of beer, and nearly broke the couch when he took a seat. He was shaken by Logan’s heavy landing, but his mind was so stuck on this that he didn’t know what to do.

Stephanie erupted in laughter at the sight of his scared face, and while she swished her drink around in her hand she said, ‘My guy, you look as pale as a ghost. Listen, if you don’t ask her out, then I will. She’s so friendly, I mean, I’d date her if you weren’t into her.’ He hovered at the iPhone, thinking of the way to ask this. He hadn’t been on a date in what felt like years. Maybe it would be like last time; a total flop, maybe he’d get his heart squeezed to the last drop like a lemon, and this endeavor would only be more sour than the last.

She curled up in a blanket on the couch, petting that old cat while she was at home for the weekend. She watched TV, but New Girl wasn’t what she was thinking about. Forget about whatever Nick and Jessica were bickering about in that show; her mind continuously returned to him. She constantly checked her phone, even though her notifications were on. She wanted to hear from her best friend.

After chatting back and forth for a bit, he finally sent the message “Would you be down for a date?” He placed the phone face-down on the coffee table, and his heart rate began to pick up, as he played with a Rubix Cube, trying to distract himself from what he had just asked for. He tapped his foot and cupped his hands over his mouth, wanting to scream with worries of rejection. His friend Stephanie slapped him on his back, Logan cackled like a mad man.

She was captivated in her show, laughing with her mom and dad. The cat jumped up and walked away, its fat belly wobbling back and forth. Episode after episode, scene change after scene change, she had started to forget about him… until she felt the phone buzz; a snap back to a reality of unknown feelings, and quickly she took it out to see what he had said. Her pale face turned pink, her nose red, her eyes started to water, her smile creased upon her cheeks, and she continued to reread it. Yes. Yes, a million times, yes. She wanted to say. Act cool. Act a bit disinterested, “Totally my guy.” She said. Crap - was that too disinterested? No- it probably isn’t, I mean, like -- go away from the cliché, y’know? If I said ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he could be like ‘oh, that’s weird.’ Am I overthinking? I think I’m overthinking.

He reached over to look at the phone, on the edge of his seat. Oh. She doesn’t want to do this, he thought. This singular response swallowed him as his friends whooped and hollered louder. Logan offered his nice outfit, Stephanie wanted to give him lessons on how to dance. He sat still, ignoring the comment while his heart rate picked up, his Fitbit exclaiming “Great exercise!” with extra buzzes.

He was willing to hear pitches of where they should go, what they should do. The date would start off at the art museum, examining works and discussing the meaning of paintings in the Rockwell collection, with the slices of life that felt so familiar to them. They thought of themselves as comedians, so they wanted to get all dressed up for an art museum, and afterwards they’d go to some cheap-o Italian joint, and split whatever pasta sounded the best while gorging themselves on unlimited breadsticks.

She wore a red dress, a V-neck showcasing a necklace her grandmother had given her before she passed. She worked on her appearance, all the while her roommates laughed at her while she applied makeup with shaky hands. When they asked who she was going to see, they laughed more, “Him?!” They asked, “The guy that always high-fives people in the halls, and sits with randos at the lunch tables in the campus center?”

“Yeah.” She said with a slight smile, “Him.”

“What about the test we have tomorrow? Are you even ready for Bio?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine with that, Rachel. Let me have some fun.” She mentioned with slight annoyance in her tongue.

Rachel rolled her eyes, “Okay. Sure. But don’t come crying to me when Parsnack fails you because you didn’t think that Punnett squares were useful.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, taking one last look in the mirror. She figured it was just right, and left for the art museum.

He wore a tie, something he hasn’t worn since his private school days. It was a red tie over a white button up. Logan told him the sports coat was too much, but to bring it if he gets cold. He smiled in the mirror while he combed his hair back, imagining how he’d want to introduce himself. He accidentally nicked himself earlier while shaving his face, and cringed as he thought this had ruined his appearance. Discouraged and bleeding, he applied pressure to the scratch before moving on. He opened his drawer and found cologne - the same one his mother gave him years before she passed. Two spritzes on the neck, one on both of his sleeves, and then a spray in the air, so that he may walk in it and smell the aroma.

He was early and was tapping his foot, waiting for her to arrive. She had walked out of her car and they complimented their appearances, and then laughed at each other.

“This is so weird.” She said.

“Why?”

“Look at us! Nobody else is dressed like this. That kid over there is in a damn Fortnite shirt.”

“Do you want to go back and change?” He asked.

“No. It’s just… so on brand for us,” She pointed at the knick on his neck, “What happened?” She lightly touched it with a familiar feeling, as a friend… yet her heart skipped. Her soft hand made him blush a little.

“Your lash is falling off.” He mentioned.

“Oh, God, seriously?” She felt the fake lash, and it fell down to the ground, “Dammit.” They snorted. His breath caught on itself when he heard that precious laugh. She took the other lash out, “I can’t believe this.”

“Hey, hey- it’s okay. Don’t worry.”

They looked at the paintings, laughing at the abstract portraits, trying their best to replicate those faces. It felt so casual, and patrons gave them looks of slight annoyance, but they didn’t mind as they wandered the exhibits, wishing they could try on the clay mask, or shake the hand of a sculpture, despite a sign reading “DO NOT TOUCH.”

They then visited Bernoulli’s, a cheap Italian restaurant that they joked about because of the advertisement of “We have tomatoes.” The conversation continuously seemed to come back to this, interspersed with laughs that sounded more like gasping for air. ‘We have tomatoes’ was, to these two, the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. The waiter walked in on their jovial conversation and asked them if they’d like something to drink.

“Bring me your-” he snorted a little, and raised his eyebrows in a brief glimpse to his date, “your cheapest Merlot…” He said in a bougie, posh accent. She giggled a little, as the waiter rolled his eyes.

“Yes, sir.” The waiter sighed, “For the both of you, I assume?”

“Why, indeed my good sir!” She exclaimed, joining in on this charade. After showing their IDs, the waiter nodded and quietly walked away as the conversation continued on into wishes of the future.

They talked a bit more about life, she expressed a desire to be a professor. He wanted to write, to spread his words and his story beyond just his head and notebooks. Looking at that brown hair, the way her bangs were shaped, and the way those blue eyes glistened in the light, he was hit with realizations of “weird, this may actually work.”

They poured each other a glass and took some sips, making sure to remain below a limit so they could get home safely. Their laughter was stimulating enough for each other. She spilled a little bit of merlot on her red dress, causing a deep dark stain to form. He shrugged and poured a little merlot on himself. She gasped as his white shirt was permanently ruined by the red liquid. “It matches my tie, I guess...” he said, shrugging it off. She started to laugh, and the night went on with stains on their outfits.

The date was coming to an end as they stood outside Bernoulli's. She started to shiver on that cold summer night, and he handed her the sport coat he refused to wear. She covered herself up, and as he started to walk away, she ran towards him, tripping a little. She jumped a bit to reach his lips, and laid a kiss on him.

She walked to her car, leaving him dumbfounded at what happened while a blush formed across her face. He went back to his car, and unbuttoned the merlot-covered shirt, removing the tie as well. He checked his phone to the message:

“Thank you for the amazing time, let’s do this again, next week sounds good to you?”

He fell in love with her laugh. He loved those eyes, her kindness, her zest for life. He had fallen in love.

And she… she felt something. You could say it was a connection; a bond she never really felt before. It felt like she was falling into something, yet rising at the same time. Nobody would do what he had done tonight with the merlot stain… right? She pondered, That’s some sitcom stuff. He made a dang mess, all for me. I don’t know what to think. What was this feeling? That’s a pretty good friend, but there was this potential for something more. She needed more time to play with this idea. She drove into the night, a little nervous for the first time in a while of what the future has to hold.