Whispered Nothings

part 1 ☼ the story of us

It all happened in a blur of twenty-four hours, 1440 minutes, 86400 seconds of pure confusion, bliss and love. I cannot describe how it felt during that time. I felt more alive than I ever had in my whole life, more alive than I'll ever feel. Being with her was the best feeling of my life. It felt like no other happiness I had ever felt.  

I'm not an English major and definitely not a writer, I'm just a math geek. That's how it's always been for me. Writing lab reports and proofs. But after I met her, I knew I had to write our story down. I can't bear the thought of loosing the details of how her lips felt on mine, the smell that filled the room that she was in and the sparkle in her eyes every time she smiled at me. 

                                                                                                   ♢

It began on a rainy day in September, during my history class. We were being lectured and for some reason, the rain clattering on the roof would not let me concentrate. 

I set my messenger bag on my desk and stared up at the ceiling. Day after day, class after class, I was stuck in a major that I couldn't quit, I didn't have the money to change a major two years in. I did not want to go to MIT, I wanted to be a doctor, to save people. To be my own sort of hero. 

The door opened and a girl stumbled in, her long, curly dark hair swinging onto her face. Her hazel eyes were beautiful with specks of gold scattered in them. She walked up the steps of the lecture hall, past me, and I could smell the sweet scent of vanilla drift by. She had been in my class since the beginning of the year and each day when she walked in, my stomach would do a somersault. She was absolutely stunning. Her long hair was wet from the rain and she looked more beautiful than any other girl that I've ever seen. I wanted her to speak to me, I wanted her to hold my hand, I wanted, I wanted, I wanted her. 

She sat in a desk near me and as she set down her bag, papers fell out, all filled with drawings. Drawings of people, each of them as life like as if they would walk off the page in a haze of color and emotion. I stopped writing and helped her pick them up. Our hands touched and it felt like electricity ran through our hands. 

She gave me a smile, her eyes sparkling, the same sweet way that made my insides go absolutely crazy, and whispered, "Thank you."

When I returned to what the professor was saying, I could not concentrate. It felt as though the rest of class took hours.

 I glanced over at her and I saw that she was drawing on the edge of her paper. I glanced down at what she was working on and I saw my face. A mirroring image of myself staring up at me, it looked like I was caught in a whirlwind, a whirlwind of her, made by the lead of her pencil moving across the page. 

I am a shy person. So much so that I can barely talk to most people around me, but by the end of class, I gathered enough courage to find her after class and I gently grabbed her hand. She turned around and looked at me, her smile made me want to run from her. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, "Hear me out. I am never this honest, but you are gorgeous and I want to show you how much I want to make you the happiest woman in the whole world."

That was the beginning of the end. I cannot tell you how all that happened, but it was glorious.