Disguise♔ z.m

Fifty

Has been four days since Nora and I had a proper conversation. It has also been the most infuriating and torturous four days of my life, too. She has been avoiding me at every chance she could, she has been cringing under my touch every time I had to wrap my arm around her waist. It was devastating, really. Even more devastating than the emotion you experience when your favorite protagonists don’t end up together.

“You look a bit down,” her hell of a brother comments, taking a seat by my side. We were dining at a restaurant that situated in a pastoral setting.

“really.”  It wasn’t meant to be a question because the only question I had come to ask and not answer was why I had to act so foolish by attempting to kiss someone who was simply not ready, so yeah, really.

Should I be feeling guilty?

Should’ve told her from the beginning.

“Told you it will end up shitty.”

“Thanks for being so compassionate.” I sarcastically remark.

“Cheers,” he raises his pint of beer and I shake my head. “No drink?”

“No mood.”

“Was it that bad?” We were all out, of course, admiring the chilly air that smoothly came by and went with the crispy air against the tip of my fingers as I come to look at an alluring Nora get up and sit on the circumference of the stone surrounding the fountain.

“Yes.” Answers both my infatuation for her and what happened.

“She doesn’t seem bothered,” he looks up as he takes a mouthful of his pint.

“She never shows emotion until you’re face to face.” it hurt so much to know that I wasn’t man enough to let her know how I feel and how confused I’ve been ever since the day I saw her. I feel so pathetic not being able to explain how protective and caring I became over the green eyed girl who has no idea about anything in this world. Would she care to listen to how much I am willing to talk about the shape of her eyes? The eyes that are sharply hidden in? Or irises the innards of the forest and veneers of leaves would resent just from bitter envy? “Or simply doesn’t show emotion at all until it tops.”

“Do you love the girl?” He bluntly asks. I look at him with pulled brows. “Do you?”

“I—yes—you?”

“Yes, that’s why I want things to work out for both of you.”

“But, they never will. She has someone back home.”

He spurts. “What?”

“And I was the one to play hitch and get them together, way to go zayn.”

“Does she love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“I am asking veronica.”

“Yes, she does.” I admit.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he rests on his elbows.

Hands run through my hair. “I might have nearly kissed her.”

“And Nora should’ve freaked, ye?”

“Exactly.”

“Go talk to her. At some point you both have to speak, you know? Wedding is in two days, and like, I don’t know man. Make her happy. Confront her.”

“You do know there’s a whole lot of shit deeper than just this veronica cover up and you.” I can’t even get myself to think about everything I’ve done. If she knew, she should pretend I am dead.

“Doesn’t matter now. It’s Verona you’re in and not England. Make Verona memorable.”

“You’re not so bad for a nineteen-year-old,” I ruffle his hair and he laughs.

“You helped me find her, now I’m helping you find her.”

“This is it,” I give her a long glance before coming to look back at him.

“Go,” he encourages me and pats the bottom of his bottle against my shoulder.

Hands in my pockets as I take hazy walks to her, my mind running. My heart rushes, my blood speeds. My lungs incorporate with my senses, and my nerves, my nerves? I’ve never felt them being under the strokes of impulse.

“Nice, isn’t it?” it wasn’t too long before I was across her, hands partially underneath the water.

“mhm.” She kept on playing with the water, not looking up, her hair falling across her shoulder, covering up her rosy cheeks.

“Nora, listen—“

“Shhhh, do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That.” She points at something and only then do i understand she refers to the soft Italian music playing in the background.

“What about it?”

“Let’s dance,” she takes me by the wrist to the center of the graveled grounds.

I don’t know if the wine had simply stroke her mind but I could feel it at the bottom of my tongue as I was swiftly brought upon to her chest.

“Nice, isn’t it?” she replicates.

“mhm.” Her lips were so plump. The side of her cheek was so blush, her chest so swelled. She was an ornament belonging to a tree that lighted during the nights. She was the light to the dark, the warmth to the cold.

“So?” She looks at me as though I was a mad man.

“I wanted to say,” I spin her underneath my arm, “That,” she spins herself this time without my knowledge, ”I,” love you, “am,” she stops dancing and her eyes are shining like the fucking stars right above us and I want to run, shout and run again but I can’t because she has this look on, that look that seems so simple and innocent, yet knowing and shocking. I should probably run to the mountain top and roll down the hill in my eight inch cowardice or swim in a pool and dive to the bottom and stay there pretending I was gilled, but I can’t do either and my only option is to complete that sentence with something I won’t have to regret for the next six days in Verona, “totally stricken by your uttermost beauty.”

“Really?”

“really.”

Maybe now I could roll off down the hill with my eight inch cowardice but at least I would be screaming out “she rested her cheek on my shoulder!”

“It’s nice, by the way.” I answer her question.

“I know.”