midnight conversations

12:00

It was quiet.
It felt like the world had been frozen in time, like I was the only living thing there in that moment.
The crickets stopped chirping.
The breeze was at a standstill.
I even held my breath, too afraid to ruin the beauty of silence that fell before me.
Until he interrupted it.

"What are you doing?" His voice was tinged with an underlying sense of bemusement.
"I was enjoying the beauty of it all," My reply came out as a whisper, and just like that, the moment was gone. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, shaking out my fingertips. At least I had gotten a second.

"All of what?" He had gotten closer. I could sense it. The grass beneath my bare feet started to tickle me. I felt my face heating up. "Of everything." My voice came out more steady now. Crunch. He was right behind me now.
I could feel his breath on my neck when he asked, "Why the hell are you not wearing any shoes?" I spun around sharply, the warmth from my face inching up to the tips of my ears. It was nice to place a voice with a face. And he certainly had a pleasant face. He was smiling, for one. He had a deep dimple in his left cheek, and his green eyes were shining with a sense of curiosity over this presumably odd girl, I assumed.

He was simply exquisite.
My heart pounded against my chest, and I felt trapped under his intense stare.
He raised an eyebrow.
Everything became awfully still again, and my throat felt as if it were being choked by invisible hands.
Breathe, just breathe.

I found my voice again and shot back, "Why, please tell me, the hell are you wearing shoes?"
The smile never left the boy's face. In fact, it grew bigger at this demand.
"You first," he countered.

I could feel my palms begin to grow sweaty, and swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. All the while, this strange boy continued to look at me with a stupid grin.
"Shoes are an informality," I finally said, my voice coming out in a rather squeaky tone, which caused my stomach to churn even more. I was embarrassing myself in front of this person I had never met. He held this power over me that I didn't like. Not one bit.

The boy stifled a laugh, all the while a breeze passed by through his dark hair, causing it to slightly lift off his face. "An informality? How so?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

"You can't feel anything when you wear shoes," I explained, tucking a stray strand of hair over my ear. "You can't feel the earth underneath you." I lowered myself to the ground, gesturing towards the grass. "You can't feel the dirt in-between your toes, or the prickliness of the grass blades." I wiggled my toes. "The feeling is exceptionally grounding," I said, with a smile, and looked up to see how the boy would react.

He reacted in a way I thought not possible. Before I knew it, the boy's sneakers were off, revealing two mismatched colored socks -- one blue, the other one red. Those too were taken off, and then we were both two bare-footed strangers at a park.

"Now we both look like idiots with no shoes." The boy claimed, his dimple deepening even more so than it had been before.

I couldn't help it. I began to laugh. The boy joined in, and then we were laughing until we could no longer. My sides began to hurt, and my cheeks ached as I smiled at this stranger again. "What's your name?" I asked him.

"Asher," the boy said, sticking out his hand, "Asher Finley." I stared at his outreached hand for a moment, observing the small, crooked smiley face tattoo etched on the inside of his thumb, before shaking his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm before quickly letting go.

"That's quite an interesting tattoo," I said, before quickly adding, "Asher Finley."
He stifled a laugh, glancing down at his thumb and then back at me, before shrugging.
"Got it one night after a party."