Scars of your love

Chapter 2

Our paths seem to coincide with each other. Right now I feel like I'm a damn lucky person.
I move towards him. With each step, my heart beat rate seems to increase.
The angelic stranger still doesn't glance at me when I take a seat beside him.
I see that there is iPod lying there next to him. He has closed his eyes, a frown marring his forehead.
It gives me an opportunity to look at him more closely.
The shadow of his eyelashes falling on his cheek, it should be a crime to have such thick and long lashes. There is a silver scar at the edge of his left eyebrow. His nose is not as straight as appears to be, it is slightly crooked as if it has broken once and not set properly.
The more I look at the more I am drawn to him.
It's not like I like him only for his appearance- I mean it plays a part- but the way I attracted to him like a moth to a flame. My body feels alive and I have this strange feeling of peace when he is near me.
He is making me feel something.
I know it is strange, right?
I have met him for complete five minutes and he is bringing out all these emotions.
It doesn't make sense. I don't even want to pick it apart and analyze.
All I want to do is feel.
I observe him.
He is not sleeping, If you look closely you can tell that he is in deep thought. The way a v forms between his brows as if he is in deep thought, as if he arguing with himself.
There is another thing that attracted me to him.
He helped me earlier when no one has even shed a thought about a girl sprawled on the floor.
From that, I can at least tell that is not a complete asshole as many other boys in my school are.
I turn away.
I don't want to get caught red-handed and humiliate myself in front of him again. I try my very best to ignore him but it is impossible. 
My complete body is vibrating with his presence. I can feel he breathe in air.
I have never felt like this in a long while and not to this kind of intensity.
To distract myself I plug into my iPod.
The familiar strains of saying it right get my attention.
It isn't enough to capture my attention I steal some occasional glances. I have looked at least four times in the last minute and after every time it is hard to look away.
I don't want to look away from his face. Afraid that he will vanish. The thought is impossible as the plane is in the air.
Still, someone with his looks is nothing but a fiction. A person created with imperfect flaws to perfection. God sure as hell took extra time to make out his features.
Thinking about all this is making my throat dry.
I press the button on my seat and request the hostess to bring a glass of sparkling water.
Once again I look at him.
No change.
Again after a few moments.
Still no change.
The hostess has brought me water.
Eyes are still closed.
I take the first sip, it feels wonderful.
I turn towards him.
Still no change.
God, what is he thinking about so deeply?
While sipping the water I look at him.
Crap
He is staring at me.
In a reflex, I move my hand forcefully that causes the water to splash on my top.
Double crap.
I put the glass on the stand in front of me. And search for tissues in my bag. I vaguely remember of having some tissues somewhere in my bag.
A hand moves in my periphery vision. At the corner of my eye, the stranger has handed out a handkerchief.
Who has a handkerchief in their pocket these days?
But never mind I'm grateful to him. Again.
I move my head and hesitate before I took the kerchief.
"Thank you," I say this looking at him.
I wipe the cloth against my top in an attempt to get it dry.
"Happens all the time."
Triple crap.
Is he saying that the water spilling on a plane happens all the time or catching someone staring at you?
I blush, blood rushing into my cheeks. I keep my head down so he doesn't see my tomato red cheeks.
When I lift my head, there is a ghost of a smile on his face.
As if it was possible it makes him more insanely attractive. I blink my eyes several times.
Unconsciously a smile tugs on my face.
"What are you listening to?"The question in the same seductive husky voice.
"Huh?" I ask dumbfoundedly.
"Which song is playing on your iPod?" He asks.
"Say it right Nelly Furtado," I told.
"Hmmm." He continues. "I didn't saw you in the other flight?"
I don't get him. What other flight?
"What are you talking about?" My eyebrows knit together.
"Isn't this your connection flight to Boston. I thought maybe this is also your connection flight?"
"Oh no. I live in Chicago. I mean I used to live in Chicago but now I'm going to stay in Boston?"
He nods.
"So where are you coming from?"
Please don't stop talking.
"From LA. Had a vacation." He shrugs.
"Holiday with your family or with your friends?"I ask interestedly.
He shifts in his seat so that he is facing me directly.
"Friends. Of course. Had enough of sun and sand and cocktails."
"So where are your friends?" I ask.
"Oh. Logan and Vivian stayed for another week."
"Then why didn't you stayed with them?"
Maybe there aren't so close to him. Maybe he is a loner. Just like me. But I can't imagine him being like that.
"Nothing like that. Logan and I are childhood friends and more importantly, Logan and Vivian are in a relationship. So I wanted to give them some privacy. Before college starts and football practi..." He stops suddenly. His eyes are clouded as if he is remembering something.
I don't like the look on his face. It is as if something is troubling him. I want him to forget whatever it is.
This makes me frown.
Why am I feeling so much for this stranger? I know one thing that I don't like to see him like this.
"You and your friend Logan are in the football team?" I try to divert his attention.
Yeah. Actually, his personality resembles that of an athlete. He has that rough side of the athlete.
Both the rough side and god-like looks make the irresistible combination. I can bet every girl in the campus swooning over him and just waiting to fall in his lap at the snap of his fingers.
"Logan is the captain of the team." He says. Still, there is a strained edge to his voice. I don't think he wants to talk about this.
I don't ask any more questions even though when I want to.
We fall silent.
The sound of air striking the windows, the mechanical sound of the engine and the background buzz in the cabin doesn't cover the silence between us.
I think this is it.
We will never talk again during the flight and after that never again in this lifetime.
There goes my chance to interact with the only person I wanted to talk-so badly- in a while.
I stare at the oscillations of water in the glass. My mood is bleak for causing him whatever that is troubling him.
"So have you ever been to LA?" He attempts to make his voice casual.
"Yes, my parents had a beach house there." I smile slightly.
Remembering all the times my parents used to take me there.
My parents were not like others. They used to actually take out time for the family vacations. Always have been involved in my life without being nosy.
Now it is nothing more than a bittersweet memory.
"What are the places you have seen?" He is trying his best to make the tension in his shoulders disappear.
"Barbados and Los Angeles." I said.
My mom used to love sunny places. For the first time, I observe that thinking about them isn't hurting as much as it used to do.
"How about you?" I try to make the conservation light.
"Switzerland, Paris and Ireland. Though Ireland doesn't count has it is dad's homeland." He lifts a shoulder carelessly.
"Ireland?" I ask him again.
"Yup. The same old one. Have you visited?" The cloudiness in his eyes is now replaced by mirth.
His blue eyes are fresh with all the emotions held me a moment before I broke the eye contact.
"No. But I love to go." I say excitedly.
"Ireland is cold and wet. Why would you love to go there?" He asks incredulously.
"Everybody loves the warmth, cold is something that brings the.....reality. Reality is that the beauty of the countryside is not seen in bright sunlight. It is the beauty that blossoms even in the darkest time."
Ireland, many people think there is nothing to see there. Everyone just knows Dublin and think it is the only place in Ireland. It is so not true. Ireland is an understated beauty. The silence and cold is not something you get always. Ireland has been my favourite destination place for a long time.
Dad had even planned a vacation. However, all the plans came to an end after their death.
I hope that I visit it as so as possible.
No, I know for sure that I'm going there for sure. I can see myself sitting on the wet grass staring at the valleys as the cold breeze blowing through me waking goosebumps on their rise. The sky clouded and grey but more beautiful in that way.
What I didn't see is that now I'm imagining this perfect stranger laying beside me.
I shake my head a little. My mind is running a little wild.
No.
A lot wild.
I look at him and see that he is also lost in his thoughts. His eyes are turned toward me, staring at me for a long time. As if he is trying to understand my love for Ireland. Never did anyone tried except for my parents and Esme. Now here he sits a complete stranger who doesn't even know my name trying to understand me.
He nods in agreement.
"You really should love the country."
"I really love it. I even tried to learn Gaelic once but failed miserably." I kept my chin on My clasped hands.
I begged my parents for a complete before they agreed to get a tutor.
As it turned out I was really pathetic.
The tutor gave up on me and said I was her worst student.
"Now you really should love the country."
I flush a little.
"Enough of me. So which place do you like?"
"Me. Hmmm...there is no specific place." He shrugs.
"There must be someplace you must like." I say protestedly.
"I like America."
"You live in America." I roll my eyes at him.
"So let's just say." He changes the topic." That if you are given a day to do whatever you want to do and wherever you want to go. What would you do?" He asks suggestively.
"Of course. I would go to Ireland and read a novel lying on the grass."  I tried hard not to imagine him beside me.
"Other than Ireland."He warns me.
"Okay. Then I would love to watch the sunrise in Norway. Then have my breakfast at a cafe in Italy. After that, I would spend the rest of my afternoon rest of my afternoon roaming the streets of a small village in Spain. Have my brunch at a Paris restaurant. And go for pacific crest trail hiking. Then would love some oysters at a beachside hotel of Seattle and lay on the beach staring at the stars for some time. Then complete my night with going to an Ibiza nightclub." I say dreamily.
"You want to all those places in one day." He laughs.
"Well this is a hypothetical case, isn't it?"
Before he can answer the pilot announces to buckle up as we are going to land in Boston in 5 minutes. I notice that we have unconsciously leaned towards each other. His hand is slightly touching mine making my cells hyperactive.
We buckle our seatbelts. Both of us silent.
I have confessed some of the things I always wanted to do to a complete stranger.
And I liked it.
I shared some of them with my parents and nobody else. 
Oddly it feels good talking to him.
As the plane descending my flutters as always.
Some call it PTSD. I know better.
I have always had this way before my parent's accident.
Automatically I clutch his hand in mine.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Hoping that We land safely.
The screeching sound of the tires rubbing against the land. Makes me hold his hand even tighter.
Seconds pass by slowly my senses came back to me. I release that that I'm clutching the stranger's hand so tightly that my knuckles are white.
I release his hand and mouth sorry.
He just winks at me taking my breath away.
I already miss the warmth of his hand.
I exhale in relief when we landed safely. I remove the buckle.
Our time is up. It just felt it was a minute ago when we started talking.
I like being around him. I can't ignore the chemistry between us.
The way me makes my heart do a double time, the way my mind and body is filled with excitement when he talks to me and looks at me with those ocean blue eyes.
I have to ask his number. Before that, I have to ask his name.
He takes his duffle bag with him.
"The merits of bringing a carry on bag if you don't have to wait." He says amusingly.
I just smile I return. Tensed and nervous to ask his name.
I have talked with him during the entire flight and now a single word is not escaping through my lips.
We both walk through the airport to get my baggage at the carousels.

I work through all the ways Of self-introduction. Of course in a casual way.
"I'm Alex by the way." He whispers in my ear. I can feel his breathe agonist my skin.
Shit.
He can read my mind. I turn my head to see his face just inches away from mine. I forgot how to breathe.
He arches his eyebrow.
"Oh. Beatrice. But everyone calls me tris." I mumble. I stare at his lips. My breathing hitches in my throat. My hormones are running wild in my veins.
I look down enabled to look at him without imagining of kissing him.
My luggage has arrived so I move away from him.
I don't how I have to ask his number. Maybe I will sound desperate and even needy.
But I need to get his number.
I collect my suitcase and turn just in time to see him walking away. I want to shout and run to him about why he is leaving without biding a goodbye. Before I can him retrieving back is no longer can be seen.
And I'm just left with his name.
Alex.

**
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