Coffees with Luke & Audrey

XIII

“Don’t ask for guarantees. And don’t look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore.”

— Ray Bradbury

Romance was not her forte. She was not one of those people, like Luke, who were cynical towards the whole thing, but merely indifferent. Granted, she owned a few Nicholas Sparks books, liked to watch the occasional chick flick and yeah, she’d had a few boyfriends. But she was not a diehard romantic. The typical romantic gestures in movies did not move her. A guy saying she looked beautiful without makeup did not get her heart thumping. Kissing in the rain was cute but cliché.

She supposed she liked more of a challenge. For someone who could shut her up when she was talking too much and tell her things she did not know, for someone to surprise and captivate her; someone who never got boring and always had some new idea or adventure waiting of sorts.

That’s what Luke did to her. He somehow had the ability to point out the most ordinary things and turn them into something extraordinary. He also knew how to make her laugh – really laugh. The kind that had you rolling on the floor with tears steaming down your face as you gasped for air.   

She was scared, but a good kind of scared, and like a child learning to walk for the first time, they took things slow, afraid of falling if they rush through and never being able to pick up the pieces again.

There were now awkward moments when their skin would come in contact and awkward glances and even awkward silences. She was not used to it. He was one of the very few people she could sit with, just being, without words to fill in the holes.

They were not really a couple because she thought the terms ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ sounded too typical and they did not really cover what he was to her. They came to an agreement to just go with it. Whatever happens happens. Except, having had a taste of it – of him – she was now much more aware of how his skin burned against hers, how it sent tingles through her and made her want to move just that little bit closer; was aware of how he sometimes got this look in his eye that never failed to make her heart beat faster; was aware of the shape and texture of his lips.

These simple observations led her to feel uncomfortable, to soon turn into many of those awkward moments that were presenting themselves. Or so it would seem. She soon realised that the moments needn’t be awkward at all if only she followed her own advice and stopped over analysing.

She remembered this the next time he caught her eye with that intensity she was steadily beginning to understand, the one that made her heart thump, and she acted without thinking. Without caring. And she grabbed him by the collar and pressed her mouth to his.

The awkwardness bubbled away, as did everything else, because thinking straight became impossible when he stood so close to her. Because thinking at all when he ran his hands down her back like that was futile.