Steal my Heart.

9

I tied my hair back in a loose pony tail and picked up the stack of books in my arms. There were around eight thick books, with three small ones and a bunch of pens upon that to balance. I walked carefully through the corridor of our school, not wanting to drop all the stuff on the ground. I grumble under my breathe as I realize that there's only one minute for my next class to start. I'm going to be late and end up in detention if I don't somehow reach class before Mr. Senpaul.

Let's see, if I walk a little bit faster now, it'll take me around fifty seconds to get to class. If by chance I do get late-

The calculations in my mind are interrupted when I collide with a muscular body as I round the about the passage. With the impact, I stagger back and the books in my arms go crashing down. I angrily look up at the person who caused all this, ready to start my limited vocabulary verbal abuse.

All the words die at the tip of my tongue as I look at Alastair scratching his head, looking at me with apologetic, guilty eyes.
"I'm sorry Gracie." He says and the deep voice with which he says my name, sends a chill down my spine. Didn't we talk like friends yesterday itself? Then why do I feel so shy in front of him?

"It's okay." I mutter and the bell chooses that exact moment to ring.
"Oh gosh." I say in exasperation as I bend down to pick up all the books. Alastair also gets down on his feet in front of me and starts gathering all the stray pens scattered about.

Though there are a few people lurking about in the corridor, it feels like we're the only ones over here. Me, the mess I made and Alastair helping me out with it. His fingers brush against mine ocassionally and that skin feels different, it feels special.

After he's helped me gather all the stuff, he takes half of it himself and I walk to my locker which is at the next turn. Depositing all the books inside, Alastair leans against the locker to look at me. Even though his body language seems casual, his eyes show nervousness.

I smile at him. "Thank you." Hesitantly, I turn around to walk to my class when Alastair grips my wrist. If the earlier contact felt special, this one downright burns my skin. I turn around and he drops my hand, realizing what he's done.

"Grace, I..I wanted to ask if you'd like to come for coffee with me, now." He says and I pause to think about it.
"I'm not really sure. Later, maybe? I'e got class right now." I say awkwardly and his face droops.

"You're already five minutes late. Whoever the teacher is, they won't let you in now." He says and I realize that he is right.
"Okay then." I say and just like that, his face lights up again.

He leads me towards the parking lot and I watch him from behind. His back is toned and he is so damn tall, with the perfect body. As I admire him, we reach towards the end and I ask him when he stops. "What is your ride?"

He smirks and points towards the ridden, rusty motorcycle sitting in front of me. My jaw drops open at the old, black bike and I shake my head.
"We could die on this." I whisper incredulously.
"No we won't. Hop on." He says and stretches his long, lean legs across the bike to sit on it. He fixes the mirrors and kicking the beast to life, he looks expectantly at me.

"I hope you don't kill me Alastair." I mutter under my breathe and sit on the pillion seat.
"I won't. Atleast, not with this bike." He grins and I'm about to ask him the meaning of what he said when he starts driving.

"Whoa. This is smooth." I say to him as I think about where to keep my hands. On his shoulder, my thighs or simply in my lap? Our eyes meet in the rear view mirror and he winks at me. I blush and keep my hands on his shoulders. Once again, the intimacy of touch overwhelms me and butterflies flutter around in my tummy. He smells of wood, nature and citrus; and I take in the fragrance. The heat from his body emanates into mine and I feel this urge to rest my head against his back.

In my wonderland, I don't look around and when I finally do, I'm awestruck. He's taking me through this near empty lane with no signs of humans around us. I can hear the faint chatter of magpies and the trees looming over us form a canopy. It's one of the most wonderful lanes ever. How come I haven't come here before? The wind hits my face, sending locks of my hair flying around.

Instinctively, my fingers dig deeper into Alastair's shoulders and I feel his body language change.
"How is it?" His voice flows like melody with the wind and I take in a deep breathe.
"Beautiful." I whisper.
"I know." He looks at me through the rear view mirror with a small smile on his face.

I smile back as I hold my hands out in the wind. It hits me with so much ferocity, like paper tearing against my face, yet it feels gentle against my skin. It's funny, how things that cannot be seen or touched can be felt so deeply. The weather is amazing and the scenery is picturesque, and in the centre of the world is, Alastair. Whistling as his brown hair is rustled and his shirt clings to his body. He really doesn't know how good it feels simply to look at him.

I smile and close my eyes. Maybe that's all I need to do, feel this moment. Take it in. Hold it in the palm of my hand while it lasts. And kiss it goodbye as it leaves. Isn't that we all should do? Value a moment before it turns into a memory. You can't stop time nor can you control it, but all you can do is not let it control you.

Alastair halts his bike and I ask him, confused, "Why have we stopped here?"
"We've reached." He says and that's when I actually notice the little coffee shack tucked between the pine trees. It's no fancy shop, just a small place put together in the middle of the forest. Getting down, I look at the place.

It's a small store covered by a little roof from where delicious smell of tea wafts in the air. There are a couple of wooden chairs and tables surrounding it and if you don't look closely, you might not even notice the place.

The whole shack however, has a very distinct feeling to it. If someone was to ask me what smell reminds me of home in the future, I'd bring them to this place. It's gorgeous. This is a place where a painter might draw inspiration from. Where a writer might sit for hours to weave out a story. This shop is exactly what I would describe as comfort.

"I'm so sorry if you don't like it. If you want, we can-" Alastair says from behind and I hold my hand up to stop him from saying anything else.
"I love it." This is all I say before his face breaks into a grin.

"May I lead the lady to have coffee then?" He says and I laugh as I walk ahead of him, eager to actually sit down on one of the chairs.