August & Colin | WRU series | book 1
We take risks. We make mistakes. We lie. We love. We hurt. We lose total control.
I took a risk. I paid the price.
I made a mistake. I felt the guilt.
I lied. I lie.
I loved. I try not to.
I hurt. I still do.
...
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"What would you do if you could time travel?" My question drifts into the night as Colin and I walk out of the movie theater to the dimly lit promenade by the Columbia river that splits our small town Arkenshaven in two.
Like I'd written down in my agenda, he had arrived at 7 o'clock to pick me up. He did all the gentleman stuff from opening doors to telling me I looked beautiful, to which I replied this wasn't a date. He brushed it off and told me that we didn't have to be on a date for him to give me a compliment which caused me to sheepishly thank him, looking down in an attempt to hide whatever effect he had on my insides.
As I said, this isn't a date. We're friends and friends don't go on dates. They hang out. They don't date, so evidently, this is not a date, so obviously, my insides weren't supposed to go on an exciting roller coaster just because he gave me a compliment.
Calm the shit down.
After using eeny meeny miny moe to pick a movie since, apparently, we're both terrible at making choices, we ended up watching About Time. The movie was beautiful even without a fair amount of minutes in which I spaced out thinking what would happen if I laid my hand down on the armrest between us.
Would he grab it? Would he brush his fingers against mine? Is he thinking the same or is it just me overthinking this whole situation?
Every single time I came to the same conclusion: I have to stop thinking like this. Yet every single time he moved my mind restarted the same thought process. Is he making a move? Is he thinking about making a move? Do I want him to make a move?
The answer to the last question may possibly be yes, however, the actual response sounds more like: you cannot want it.
I can but I don't want to. I don't want to risk losing anyone. And I don't have to if we stay just friends.
"I feel like I should say something wise like 'fix my mistakes' but all I can think of right now is traveling to the late 1800s, around 1870, so I can have a Wild West moment." He admits whilst gazing at the city lights on the other side of the river. "You know, those stare-off moments before they shoot each other. My dad and I used to re-enact those when I was little because it looks cool in the movies, the staring not the dying." His face is filled with nostalgia and I can imagine the loving memories warming him up from the inside out.
A smile finds its way to my lips and this time I don't hold it back. "With the wiggling fingers and all?"
"Is it even a worthy stare if they aren't wiggling?" He glances my way with narrowed eyes.
"No?"
"Good guess." The early July summer breeze blows through my hair and even though it's soothingly warm, I'm glad I chose my mom jeans and long-sleeved red crop top instead of a dress that would have, no doubt, caused me to crave a sweater or a warm blanket. Problems of someone who easily gets cold.
