Coincidences

Act LX

What am I feeling? I can't tell if there're butterflies in my stomach, or if there's simply a bad feeling about this.

I met him by the entrance. He jogged over to me, greeting me with a wave. He called to me, "Zoey, I'm here."

"It's ten thirty," I informed him, although it was super clear, since a clock was suspended on the roof. All you need to do is to peer upwards, and, hopefully, you won't be late to any train departures. But we weren't going to a train.

"I know," said he, before he took me by the hand and led the way. "Let's go places."

"But there aren't any fun places to go nearby."

"You're right."

"Then, why did we agree to meet here? It would take us a full hour just to get to the beach. The traffic was tremendously jammed when I was on my way over here."

He pondered for a moment, or pretend to, anyways. I'm not sure, but I think it's all part of his plan. He then broke the silence and exclaimed, "How about my place? Let's crash in there for a while."

"Wait. Your place? I've never been to your place. At least, inside, but isn't it too early to invite me over?"

"What? You go to his house all the time. I wouldn't hurt to try to visit mine."

He got me there. I wasn't capable of giving him a response. I stayed quiet, and he pulled me through the crowd of people coming and going. The place was hectic, although not as much as the fuss in New York. His apartment was close by. Walking distance, actually. A minute later, we entered the building already.

"This floor," he pointed, pressing a button on the elevator panel, but I didn't pay attention. The button didn't light up like the other modern elevators. When it came to a stop, he squeezed my hand and guided me, saying, "Come on, this way."

He grabbed the keys from his shorts and unlocked the door. He motioned me to come inside, and, the second I stepped in, I was marveled by the appearance (and orderliness) of their apartment.

"Wait here," he said, running to what seemed to be a telephone ringing. "I think someone is calling." He went inside and closed the door behind him.

The living room was elegant, modern, and organized. The kitchen was, too. I'm amazed he didn't wreck their home. I expected that there would be a hole in the wall, or something similar. He once threw a pair of scissors across the room, and it stuck to the board. That was two days ago.

I ended up becoming more curious to explore around the apartment. I walked towards the hall and swung open a random door. It was the bathroom, also nice and tidy. I did the same with the next door, and I saw his room.

I don't know, but I was somehow dragged inside. I entered his room without permission.

The bed was set in the middle of the southern wall, showered with sunlight passing through the sliding glass doors to the west. Those doors led to his terrace, with a panoramic view of the Pacific. His desk was opposite of the bed, and an armchair rested lonesome by the corner. His closet was open, but it was perfectly arranged, and his laundry was put neatly in a basket.

I looked at the picture frames that stood on his shelves. They were full of his personal memories, achievements, and milestones. He seemed extremely happy, which totally contradicted his former personality.

"What are you doing?"

He was standing there, watching me from the door. I stopped what I was doing and apologized, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I'll leave."

I started to do so, until he held onto my shoulders and stopped me in my tracks. He looked at me in the eyes, gazed down at me intently, till he lowered himself to kiss me. I have no idea what was happening. He put me to his bed, still luring me with his lips. He released me, and I sat upright, his head leaning against mine, his hair brushing me gently in the forehead. His hands caressed my cheeks and my neck, and I felt good to be touched. I wanted to be touched even more. I let myself be taken over by his gentle hands, and, hungry for more, I kissed him willing. He pushed me back, and he laid me down. My body started to shake uncontrollably, my vision grew fuzzy, and my breath became thicker; I wasn't thinking clearly anymore. I felt tingling coming from my legs, and I couldn't help but cried out, till his lips met mine again.

Everything felt sensational. I don't want it to stop.

He began to take my clothes off, first, with the jacket. Then, he unbuttoned my blouse, revealing some of my skin. He also undid his own, and the next thing I know, we were at it once more. All I had left on were my shorts, my boots, and my sleeveless shirt. I was losing my mind.

"This... this is my first time," I told him, a bit insecure. I couldn't believe what was happening right now, but I can't stop it.

"Don't worry. It'll be alright."

I'm sorry, Martin.