Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 6

At some point, in the throes of my crush, I'd decided to start compiling a list about Chris and everything I knew about him. 

There were a couple of reasons for this, one being I just wanted to know everything about him, but the other reason was that I was furious at myself for falling for Chris based purely on how he looked. 

I felt like I needed a reason, any reason, to define what I liked about him, other than simply a handsome face, a good body and a feeling. I didn't want to be that shallow. And given he had never been anything but dismissive of me I couldn't exactly give "good personality" as a reason. I mean, even his own sister had labelled him a dick.

So I reserved a page at the back of my diary to put together my list and over the next year or so it grew. From bits of info I gleaned from Kirsty, from conversations I heard, from my own observations.

The diary no longer exists but I still remember each point I wrote down, painstakingly, in pink glitter pen.

He was two years older than me.

He was a swimmer. As far as I was aware he'd never taken part in competitions or anything, but he seemed to go to the local pool a lot of an evening. I'd often see him returning, with damp hair and a healthy glow about him. I'm assuming the pool was his happy place.

He was studying for a business degree at Strathclyde Uni.

He liked to read. I'd often spot him with his nose in a book. One time, to be even more thorough in my investigative work, I noted the name of the book he was currently reading and looked it up online to find out the genre. Science fiction. I did this with a couple of titles and they all came back sci-fi, so I felt it was safe to assume this was his preferred type of book.

In all the time he was in my orbit he didn't seem to have a girlfriend.  Kirsty had told me he'd went out with a girl in his year called Leesa for a few months the previous year. And obviously I have no clue who came afterwards since he dropped out of my life immediately after that kiss.

He liked what I would have termed "angry music". Stuff like Metallica. Not what I would have expected from him. 

He was kind to animals. The dog next door hated everyone, apparently. Apart from Chris. I'd watched him clap that dog on several occasions, the dog transforming from an angry monster into a delighted puppy at his touch, and Chris himself morphing from sullen-faced to grinning. How I longed for him to smile at me like that!

He kissed me once and I don't know why. 

He was a contradiction. Popular and sporty but also a bit of a secret nerd. Moody but with a soft centre. Handsome but insecure. None of those were necessarily facts, just theories I projected on to him as a result of my observations.

Ultimately the list didn't get me any closer to defining why I was so obsessed with him. But each little fact I found did make him seem slightly more human . . . And unfortunately only had the effect of making me fall for him even more.