Millisecond Bliss

1. Runaway with me

Clad in a black gown, a basic dress beneath this gown, and tactfully chosen black canvases, I can't give my nerves all the credit for the perspiration trickling down my back. But still, my nerves account for at least 85% of this sweat, so, armed with this statistic, I'm assuming you have a pretty rough idea of the intensity of my anxiety.

The incessant chiming of my phone, courtesy of my parents' obsessive compulsive need to inform me that they're arriving soon after every millisecond, has the negative effect of appeasing the flash fast beating of my heart.

I rise from the chair I'd been sitting atop, then leave the hall, hoping escaping the animated chatter bubbling through the hall— which much like my phone, does nothing to steel my nerves— will help me calm down. So, I ditch my phone on my chair, certain that no one would be interested in stealing a battered old flip phone. It's not that I can't afford a better phone, I just like the fact that you can't track down a flip phone, which for a girl who's never where she's supposed to be, tends to be a pretty handy disability.

A subtle autumn zephyr tickles the clammy nape of my neck as I walk through the entrance doors. It doesn't take a long time for the fresh air and significantly quieter outdoors to calm me down a little. But there's only so much a cool breeze can do to pacify my intense nervousness.

So when I see Yaris Wasambe sitting not more than five metres away from the hall, on a bench beneath one of the school's legendarily large trees, I decide to join him, seizing this as an opportunity to escape both the hub-bub of the happenings within the hall and my own stresses.

"Hey, Yaris," I greet as I approach the head prefect. We're the furthest thing from friends, if anything we're acquaintances, so him raising an apprehensive brow as an initial response to my greeting really doesn't surprise me.

"Hey, Felicity," he finally says.

"Can I sit?" I ask.

He motions towards the empty space beside him, non-verbally saying 'yeah'.

"Shouldn't you be in there practicing your speech?" I question.

Tilting his head to the side, Yaris does a sweep over of me with his warm, dark coffee eyes before shaking his head. "I guess I just wanted a break from all of that."

I throw him a knowing smile, "same here. I mean, of course I don't have a speech like you and everything but I at least wanted to escape from the crowd."

We sit there in silence for a while. In my defense, I'm generally not a conversation starter and the fact that Yaris and I are from different social circles doesn't really help the situation either. And yet, the silence isn't awkward. I guess sitting next to a human who isn't nearly as hyped or frantic as those in the hall is kind of settling.

Yaris Wasambe is what people like to call well versed, given the fact that he's on both the soccer and field hockey team, maintains a G.P.A that can easily get him on Tony Stark's radar and upholds a moderate popularity status which makes him immune to the label of 'loner'. With his deep russet skin and the several laugh lines which extenuate his perpetually curled lips, me saying he's unattractive is complete and utter crap.

Well, not exactly perpetually curled. At this exact moment he isn't smiling. I can't be sure but he appears to be having an intense internal monologue.

"If you could escape reality for just five hours would you do it?" he asks, taking a step out of his contemplating.

"Depends. I mean, if I could come back to the exact moment I left reality then totally but if reality went on without me then—"

"So you wouldn't take a ticket out of the shithole that is existence if you could?"

I mull over his question, which honestly startles me considering how pessimistic it sounds which completely contradicts the typically blissful Yaris. "I hope you're not suicidal," I say trying to pass it off as a joke but failing to play down the concern laced in with the semi-question, semi-statement.

At this his eyes widen. "Oh, God, no! That's not how I intended it to come off as. What I meant is more of a temporary break not a permanent one."

"Even if I do say yes, my answer is inconsequential. I'm pretty sure existence wouldn't be cool with us missing in action for a while. Existence sounds like a worrier, I wouldn't want her to worry, would you?" I ask, hoping my personification of existence will make Yaris smile.

He smiles. "What makes you so sure Existence is female; I mean I always imaged it as a genderless entity," to this I can't help but laugh.

An abrupt beep interrupts our conversation which after a while of silence had finally began to pick up pace.

"The ceremony's about to start, isn't it?" I query, dreading yet still expecting the subtle nod of Yaris' head in response to my question.

We both stand to leave the bench which has served as my refuge from all the hubbub for the span of ten minutes, which despite being brief amount of time, has managed to soothe my anxieties.

"Good luck with your speech," I say, knowing that Yaris and I will be unlikely to interact prior to his delivery.

He smirks slyly at this comment before muttering a brief, 'thanks'.

A short while after beginning my saunter towards the hall, I notice the prominently evident lack of footfalls in my vicinity. When I turn to confirm my suspicions, I see Yaris approaching the center of the parking lot which is in the exact opposite direction as the hall.

I raise a skeptical brow before hollering, "Where are you going?"

Hearing my question, he stops walking to face me. "I'm escaping existence," is all he says, well, shouts considering the fifty-meter distance between us, before recommencing his venture out of what he deems to be 'existence'.

"Wait!" I exclaim, closing the distance between Yaris and I while simultaneously clutching the hem of my gown and trying to remember the last time I'd done cardio.

Again, he halts from his self-issued mission to hear what I have to say. He says nothing, rather letting his inquisitively raised brow speak for him.

"I change my mind. Existence is overrated," I say, once I've finally closed the distance between us.

He swivels his body away from me then as he restarts walking says, "Let's escape this shithole."