The Perfect Girl

26

"And they say don't look past her face,                                                                                                                       She's not worth it anyway,"

It was so sudden.  

In a way, the action shocked me.  

But also, it seemed to fit perfectly with the image of Hiba that I had in my mind, particularly the image I'd had before her father passed away.  It made sense that the girl who laughed and smiled and shouted and ran around for no reason had kissed me just now.  It did not make sense that the girl who was tired and sad and cried had.

At that moment, I wasn't thinking about that, though.

Hiba had turned her body so her arms were around my neck.  My hands were on her waist, and when she pulled away, she ripped herself away from me with startling speed, and curled up against the armrest.

I smiled at the blush on her cheeks, at how she reached her hands up to cool her face.

"Damn it," she whispered.

I was grinning so wide now.

I reached my hand out to her.  She stared at it, shook her head, blushed harder, and crossed her arms.

"Hiba..." I teased.

"Crap" she muttered, "I probably look like a tomato, I hate blushing."

"Why?" I laughed.

"I look weird." 

I shook my head, "Hiba, love, stop."

"Why do you call me that?" she asked.

"What?"

"Love." .

"Because I lo--" I cut myself off, startled by what I had been about to say.

"W-What?"

"N-Nothing."

Now we were both awkward.  I couldn't enjoy her shyness when I was embarrassed.

"I have to go pray," Hiba said abruptly, and left.

Damn.

***

Later that day, we decided to go out for a bit.  

We were in the car when I realized we didn't actually have a destination in mind.

"Where do you want to go?" I asked.

"I don't know," Hiba shrugged.

"Well, I mean, we should know where we're going."

"That would probably be wise," Hiba agreed, smiling.

I thought a moment, hesitated.

"There's... there's somewhere I've been wanting to take you," I admitted, "But, like, we don't have to go--"

"Where?"

"Can I just take you?"

She raised her eyebrows, "Sure, I guess.  I'm trusting you, okay?"

I nodded, "Okay."

I started driving.

Mostly the drive was a quiet one, the both of still a little awkward, but every once in a while we'd see something interesting or think of something we wanted to say and there'd be some conversation.

The place I wanted to take Hiba was an old art gallery.

It was pretty small, but I'd been going there since I was young.  It was beautiful, and it had some of the most incredible pieces I'd ever seen on display.  

The artwork was done by people in the town to be seen by people in the town.  I'd met some of the artists, as well as the elderly couple that owned it.  They were good people, and I liked being around them and around the art.

Hiba knew that I painted, that was true.  But there was still a risk involved with showing her something that I had hidden from everyone in my life for so long.  

When we arrived, Hiba got out of the car before me, looking around.

"An art gallery?" she exclaimed in surprise.

I nodded, "Are you into art?"

"Kind of," she said, "I did a lot of it when I was younger, and I've always liked going to art museums."

"Good," I said, "Maybe you'll like this."

I took her hand, led her inside.  

It was pretty empty today, but the art was still on the walls and the whole place looked as nice as ever.

She gave a sharp intake of breath when we entered, "Wow,"

"They've changed a few of the pieces since I was last here," I commented.

She let go of my hand, wandered away.  

"This is beautiful," she said, standing in front of a painting of the northern lights, gazing at it with rapt.

"Why isn't there anyone here?" she asked, looking around.

I shrugged, "It's a small place, and it's a weekday."

"How'd you find it?"

I shrugged, "I was just driving around trying to find somewhere to eat out here and I stumbled on this place.  I went in and the owners were there, and they were really nice, so yeah." I paused, breathed in, "I went through this really messed up stage in high school where I was kind of bullied, and I'd come here after school when I was supposed to be studying."

"You were bullied?" she seemed incredulous.

"Why's that so hard to believe?"

"I don't know, you're just... like, untouchable."

"Untouchable?  How?"

"Well, I mean, what's there to bully you about?"

"I don't think there doesn't have to be a reason for someone to bully someone else.

She considered it a moment, "That's true, I guess.  Bullying is less about the victim, more about the bully."

"Yeah." I mumbled.

"I'm sorry that people were stupid enough to do that to you," she said, finding my hand and slipping her fingers through mine, "People are idiots."

"That they are," I smiled, and raised her hand to my lips to kiss it.