Falling in the Dark | ✓

2 | Questions

"Hello? Carmen?" Astrid calls, waving her hand in front of my face. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," I shake my head, giving her another apologetic smile. "I'm fine."

Unfocused eyes, monosyllabic responses and an absent mind. I must be the worst interview subject of all time.

The tip of Astrid's pen makes long, purposeful strides on the page as she writes. I watch the movement of her left hand closely, trying to discern the words and failing.

"Can we try the questions again?" she asks, smiling at me with patience.

"Of course," I say. "I'm here. One hundred percent, I promise."

A lie. Even as I'm finishing that sentence, my mind wanders back to the mysterious stranger that kissed me. I couldn't think about anything else afterwards, and the events of the third and final dance totally failed to register.

Astrid fires question after question at me, and I struggle to answer them with sincerity. I tell myself to focus on the things around me instead of losing control of my thoughts. The soft lavender walls of the small study room. The swirling patterns on the wooden table in front of me. The contrast of Astrid's long, golden curls to my shorter, straighter dirty blonde hair.

"Which of the three dances was the most memorable?"

"The second."

"Which one was most awkward or uncomfortable?"

"The first."

"Which of the three dances would you say was your favorite?"

"The second."

"Did the song have anything to do with your choice?"

"No. I don't even know what song was playing."

When she asks me to explain why I chose the second dance as my favorite, I falter.

"Well, um," I murmur, staring at my hands in the hopes that a quick lie would appear in my palms.

"Yes?" Astrid peers at me with wide blue eyes, nodding encouragingly.

"We kissed," I say in a rush.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said, we kissed. And it was . . ."

I give up on trying to find the right word for it. Astrid's eyebrows shoot up at my response. The obvious surprise in her pretty features causes my face to flare up with heat. But she recovers quickly, dipping her head to write something in her notebook.

"Did you see who I was with the second time?" I ask her when her pen stops moving. My legs jiggle in a frantic, restless motion as I wait for an answer.

"No," she replies, pursing her lips. "I think I saw you with your first partner, but by the second dance, you'd moved to the other end of the room."

"Is there any way I can find out who my partner was?" I frown as an overwhelming hope builds in my chest. "Please? I have to know, Astrid."

She tips her head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know who partnered with whom. But I can give you the names of all the guys that participated. You can try to find out who it was."

"You can do that?" I ask, straightening in my cushioned seat. Desperation leaks from my voice, but I don't try to hide it. "Would you get in trouble?"

"It's not exactly allowed, but don't worry," she shrugs, smiling conspiratorially. "There were fifteen boys, though. How're you going to figure it out?"

"I don't know," I admit.

What do I know? He is tall, short-haired, and slightly muscular. This just might be enough for me to find him. The hope refuses to die.

"At least I'll have a place to look," I say with a firm nod.

She taps the nib of her pen against the college-ruled notebook. "I'll get the names to you sometime soon, okay?"

I return her cheerful smile. "Thank you!"

I'm going to find him, I tell myself as I answer the rest of Astrid's questions.

A big grin of anticipation takes over my face as I repeat those words inside my head. I find myself smiling long after the interview is over. Drawing my black coat closer, I walk towards my — and Vera's — dorm room. The late night air is cool and fresh, ruffling the barren branches of the sugar maple trees flanking the tar road. Every now and then, a car goes by, illuminating the dimly-lit street with its headlights.

I climb the stairs to my room on the first floor, biting down on my lip to hide my smile. My toes curl inside my strapped sandals as I recall the soft, feathery touch of the beautiful stranger's thumb on my lips.

It takes me a moment to remember that Vera is still with Liam when I walk into an empty, unlit room. I can barely make out the silhouette of my single bed to the far left and Vera's to the right, just four feet away. Directly in front of Vera's bed is a boxy wooden closet, cramped with our clothes.

I shrug off my coat, grab my pair of noise-canceling headphones from my bed and tug at the handles of the closet. The doors creak open, revealing a messy arrangement of haphazardly folded jeans, crumpled t-shirts and dresses. I push myself into the closet, sinking to the floor with my knees pressed against my chest.

The first time I'd told Vera about my 'idée fixe', as she likes to call it, was in my bedroom back home, when we were in middle school. I'd grown red-faced with embarrassment when I made the confession during a silly game of truth-or-dare. We had known each other for a mere seven months, and I was convinced she would laugh at my peculiar habit.

"It's just a good place to think," I said defensively, tugging at my loose ponytail.

Much to my surprise, Vera just nodded, sinking back against the cozy purple duvet, her ginger hair fanning across my pillow.

"My turn. I pick dare," she grinned, raising her eyebrows at me in a challenge.

That was the exact moment I decided that Vera Manning would be my best friend.

I smile at the distant memory as I connect the white-and-blue headphones to my phone, put them on and close my eyes as a slow melody of violins and vocals fills my mind.

Leaning back, I indulge myself by reliving every moment and every touch of the dance with the beautiful stranger that hadn't lasted long enough.

❅❅

The French phrase 'idée fixe' means 'an obsession' or 'a fixation'. 

Thank you so much for reading Chapter 2 of Falling in the Dark. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Please press that little star and share your thoughts with me in the comments below! :)

Love,

Amethyst