Tripping| Van McCann

8. Alacrity, awkwardness, anxiety

Van's POV

We found a spot in a rather decent restaurant, even though neither of us did dress up properly for the occasion. Even so, the waiter still let us in, as customers are their kings and queens.

We ordered two courses of dishes, hers was a grilled lamb steak and mine was a medium-rare steak. We were piped up in the restaurant with the limitless refills of white wine. The rest of the dinner ended up packing with our peals of laughter, as if the world stopped about us. Things stirred and spiralled around, nothing else mattered.

We got the bill checked and staggered out of the restaurant. Her arms around my waist, my arms cocooned around her shoulders. We supported ourselves back to the B&B, which was amusing enough by the fact that we were still sober enough to recognise the streets under the same-looking streetlights and noisy howling of cars bypassing.

We threw our belongings to the bed, still giggling at our boldness and imbecility.

"I can't believe that they didn't throw us away just by the volume we've made in the restaurant," I said, reminiscing the fact that we did make a lot of noise in a class restaurant that did have a dress code or something we didn't fulfil at all.

"Yeah, and by the fact that neither of us dresses up proper for that!" She giggled as her head drew back, hair swaying behind her back. It's so rare to see her being all wild and relieved, much differed from the one I'd known of during daytime.

"They should have chased us away, like the way people do with those annoying pigeons and seagulls," I mocked.

She brought her fists into the air joyously, her feet stepped forward as she accidentally fell into mine arms. I held her steady, laughter escaped from her mouth. She drew up an embarrassing smile and flung her hair backwards, meeting my eyes within a few inches.

Both of us stopped our laughter, and we held this position that none of us made a move and her eyes were staring into mine so as I did the same to her. I felt her breath against me, slow and steady, contrasting the excitement we endured earlier. It was peace. And yet we're enjoying it so far.

I took a step closer, slowly closing the distance between us. She didn't flinch a bit, so I decided it was proper to smother her right into her lips. Could've blame it on the alcohol.

So I did, under the impulse and courage given by the alcohol. Our mouth crushed together gently, I felt her breath much closer than ever, and she didn't draw away from me. I opened my eyes to meet hers, stoppered the proximity. Moments before I realised what I had done, and there were never a hint of emotion sparked on her face. She was such a close book that made me felt myself as outstandingly open in sharp comparison.

"Sorry," I blurted out quickly. "We should get some sleep. It's late already." I stepped back from her, air stirring around us, awkward and embarrassing.

"Okay," she replied in politeness. I did my best to avoid every possible eye contact we could make, so I slipped under the duvet of my own single bed, soonly after she excused herself to the loo as we both needed some moment alone.

My eyelids shut tightly, I felt my eyelashes crashed together. But the alcohol didn't help my brain to rest and pause its activities momentarily, the awkwardness continued to spiral inside of me, the alcohol acted to warm me up to its maximum. My cheek flushed hot under the duvet. My head was spinning in between awkwardness and the warmth.

I lost track of time being sleepless, and it took everlasting long for her to crack the bathroom door open, clicking the lights off, tiptoeing back onto her own bunk after she paused by my bed to check if I was awake or not.