| Tongue Tied- March 2000 �Don�t you wish sometimes life could be like a movie, and you could have a fast forward button?� She grinned, tucking her hair behind one ear. He shrugged. �Moments like now?� �Oh, no, this is a good moment. Just you and me talking... with nowhere to be.� She tucked her feet up underneath her. �I�m talking tests, family reunions, Mondays... that kinda stuff. Skip the boring parts, go straight to the interesting stuff, like car chases and when the hero and heroine hook up.� �But without the boring moments, wouldn�t the exciting parts seem boring?� �Well...� She giggled. �I dunno. I doubt it.� �Besides, you learn stuff in the dull moments. They�re important, too,� he said. �Ah, yes, the dreaded character-building experiences,� she said. �Those, especially, are the ones I�d rather skip.� �This must be a writer thing,� he muttered with a shake of his head and a smile. �Actually, no. Writer things are like when I�m in a certain moment and I think, �Wow, this�d make a really good story.� or when I sit and make up conversations between you and me, things like that.� �You do what? Between you and me?� She pursed her lips and blushed a little. �Yeah. Nevermind.� He smiled. �What do we say?� Her eyes swept to his, then away. �Stuff...� He almost laughed. She was grateful he hadn�t. The moment was about to be too important. He began mumbling a song under his breath, and missed her fond smile. �Sometimes I write them down,� she ventured, wondering why she couldn�t look at him. It always happened that way. When she was nervous and wanted to be nowhere but with him, she couldn�t maintain eye contact. That was why she liked him so much- he never seemed to have trouble with that. Best part was how his eyes were so easy to get lost in- bright blue, even in pictures, with little flames of green in the center. She abruptly wished for eyes that weren�t muddy brown. Better yet, for any feature that was even remotely fascinating. His voice, clear like a clarinet, broke into her thoughts. �You write them down? Can I read one?� Her cheeks flooded pink. �No,� she half-giggled, glancing off to the side. There was nothing there, just like five minutes ago. �Why not?� ��Cause.� She forced herself to look at him. Her gaze would not flit away again. She got that crazy Mexican-jumping-beans-in-the-stomach feeling. �Okay,� he said. Silence ensued. She closed her eyes and pretended to be enjoying the breeze on her skin, wondering if he felt awkward, and praying for something interesting to say. Why was she only tongue-tied around him? Maybe she only felt it as strongly around him. Other people, she didn�t care if they thought she was an airhead. �I�m going to get something to drink. You want anything?� he asked. Her eyes flew open. �No, thanks. I�m okay.� It would give her precious seconds to think of something to say. The Valentine�s dance? Too much of a loaded topic. Someone was playing a radio too loud. She heard a familiar tune, and hummed along. �No one loves me like you... no one loves me the way you do.� �Back.� He sat down next to her. �Here.� He handed her a bottle of water, identical to his. She looked at him in surprise. �I�ll pay you back.� �All I want you to do is drink it.� He smiled. How sweet... it made her stomach dance again. She almost felt guilty for opening it. She wasn�t used to getting gifts, no matter how small. She couldn�t believe her luck, then sternly reminded herself not to blow the thing up into anything more than it was. She deserved a guy who treated her well. Yes. That was practically her mantra, to counteract the vicious not-worthy syndrome. He never let her fall victim to that, either. �Do you ever think of me?� The words slipped from her lips before she realized she�d said them. Continue |