"Bye Angie" the words are basically spoken to myself because she's already stormed out of the store.
I walk up towards the window and take a look to be sure she's not coming back and I see her running in the starting rain. I sigh in relief and immediately feel the awkwardness of it because the idea of being relieved for her absence sounds ridiculous. In this case, it's not totally out of place though. I quickly get back behind the counter and grab the notebook, the one I used last night and forgot here, the one Angie was scribbling on a few minutes ago, and thank god or any other on his behalf she didn't turn the page. When she said she was happy to see me, with that strange accentuation, I almost shit my pants. Well, ok, I also played some kind of mental movie in my head with a slightly different ending and it's only Jeff's fault. And it's still because of him that, when I realised Angie hadn't read my notes, on the one hand I silently thanked my good star, but on the other I felt kinda disappointed. I mean, had she read it, she'd have found out everything and maybe made a move towards me, or at least dismissed me gently. In both situations, she would have taken action, sparing me the emotional struggle I'm gonna go through from now on until the day I'll finally ask her out. Because I will. I'll take her out to dinner, uhm no, to have a coffee... wait, what if it reminds her of her first pseudo-date with Jerry? No no, it must be something else, something completely different. But what? Well, I'm gonna think about it... Anyway, the plan is asking her out, just casually, without giving much weight to it, at least apparently, then go out with her, one, two, three times, and drop hints on the way until I can kinda subtly make her understand I like her. And then I'll see what happens. I don't wanna be too direct because she'd be embarrassed if she had to turn me down, but at the same time I wanna be kinda direct so I won't doubt she understands. If she had turned the notebook page this morning as I'm doing right now she'd have figured out everything, and a small part of me, the part that was brainwashed by my roommate, still hopes that's what happened. Yet her doodles are only on the first page, neat and tidy, just like her, at least like she forces herself to be, with her continuous search of control and her need to rearrange things (and people) and to find a logic in everything, and in her own actions and reactions too. Rational and meticulous little squares, the exact opposite of my illogical and disordered chaos on the second page, waves, eyes, complex webs of shapes and words. Yet I can't help seeing a sort of affinity between these two apparently so different styles, a common ground, a similar touch, sharp, strong, in the sense of the pressure put by the pen on the paper rather than the confidence in writing. But maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see, because there's no logic in the attraction I feel towards that girl and in the deep affinity I perceive between the two of us and that probably doesn't exist. A good girl from Idaho, smart and excellent student, sweet and reflective, coming from a nice and close family, what the hell has she got to do with a mess like me? Despite all that, I sense something, I feel the water, which looks calm on the surface, are deep down bustling and tormenting in whirpools and swirls I'd dive into headfirst with eyes closed if I had the balls and if I weren't blocked by my conscience, even though I ignore their nature. Anyway, I believe my conscience isn't totally wrong, some currents must be handled with care if you don't wanna be overwhelmed or worse, lose them, especially when those waters are among the only thing that make you feel alive, together with music. When I'm with her it's all so easy and complicated at the same time. It's easy because, well, as soon as we start talking it's like we're following a tacit script written by a brilliant author and any conversation, wether it's about hedgehogs or phobias, cakes or disfunctional families, turns out to be simple, pleasing, surprising and totally satisfying. At the same time it's complicated because, although I'm interested in what she says, I really am, when we're together I can't help zoning out from the situation at some point and imagine what it'd be like to feel her body pressed against mine, take her face in my hands and kiss her, trace the outline of her lips with my tongue and use just the tip to tease that damned and blessed crooked tooth, what it'd be like if she bit me and breathed against my neck... and I know it's stupid but I'm terrified that she could see all of this, that she could read my mind and notice and catch me right in the middle of any variations of my favorite fantasy: kissing Angie. And that's why, whenever I'm with her, I'm both the most spontaneous and the most held back version of myself.
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Wait until the music's over
FanfictionWait until the music's over is a story of love, secrets, regrets, what-ifs and of course... music! The story begins in 1990, when Angie Pacifico, a young film student, and wannabe screenwriter, moves from Idaho to the Emerald City. She meets a young...