Every relationship has different stages. Ours started with his whistle and then we reached stage two-the board. Funnily enough it was like the support of a wooden board to someone drowning, drowning in his love. The only difference was that this boars just made me fall deeper.
Who likes to associate with a nobody? He did. He started talking to someone who stuttered thrice before uttering her fucking name. This was me. The socially anxious goody two shoes. And there he was, Mr. Perfect. The clichè you know? Bad boy, rather perfect boy and the little damsel in distress waiting for her knight in shining armour.
Believe it or not, I was more. I was no fairy tale princess waitinng for the prince charming and happily ever after. I was waiting for someone who would stick by me while I fix myself, someone who would make me speak up and help me get over my shyness.
And he, he did it. He tried. Our little whistler was wise enough to strike a conversation with his unknown secret admirer. Then what? The sparks increased in their intensity. Hell it was nothing great. It was simple exchange of words but his voice cooed in my ears, dancing and teasing them.
'What do you like? ' He said.
'I like to colour'
'Do you like to draw? '
'No.'
'Here, give me your exam board then'
'Why?'
'I will draw and you colour. Okay? Is mickey mouse and his dog fine?'
'Perfect'
Not the first few words normal people exchange. But hell, whovwas normal? I was a nine year old secretly crushing over her classmate -cum-exam partner and he, he was a greek god under cover. And we all know no mortals ever get the gods. Do they?
YOU ARE READING
Walking Past Him
RandomFire fire everywhere But no one to save What happens when someone burns Who will save her? Who is brave? Ash ash everywhere Because his love burnt her within Will she lose or will she win? What happens when a spark sparkles all of a sudden? I...
