It Begins With Us

6.

I fall into my bed and curl up under my blanket. I toss over unto my other side and press my forehead to the wall that the beds pushed up against.

'What is she thinking?' I think. 'She's so foreign to me. Sometimes she acts young, sometimes old. Sometimes she's shy and innocent, and other times confident and cunning. Sometimes she's completely oblivious, and other times oddly knowing.'

I roll over again and my skin tingles everywhere, as though her lips have set off a switch inside of me that just can't seem to turn off.

Like electricity in water.

-

My phone rings and I let out a stuffy groan and roll over in bed to check it. I find it in a pile of snotty tissues and cringe.

"Hello?"

"Ryle?" Her voice is low and rushed. I can hear music and voices echoing in the background.

"Hmm?" I say, now wide awake.

"I'm performing this Saturday. Wanna come watch me?" She asks excitedly.

"Are you....? Inviting me out on a date?" I ask coyly and she giggles making my heart swell.

"Yes!" She laughs. "Duh!" She adds.

"Alright, where and what time?" I ask holding back a moan as I sit up.

'Shit! My head.' I groan quietly.

"Next Saturday, at 10:30AM." She says excitedly. "Toronto City Art Theatre."

'Wow that's impressive.' I think.

"Why are you so excited?" I tease. "Missed me that much."

"Of course!" She says in matter of fact way.

Then suddenly the music in the back amplifies and it sounds like an orchestra, but almost instantly the sound breaks apart, as though somethings missing.

"DeTamble!" Somebody, an old male voice shouts and she shrieks. "If you didn't already hear the entire orchestra start without you, I'd say there's something very, very wrong with you!"

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm coming!" She calls back then to me, "I gotta go, see ya."

And she's gone. I shake my head and when it spins I let it fall back into my pillow.

'Now I have to focus on getting better before Saturday.' I think just as I conk out.

-

I park near the back entrance just like she told me too. The moment I step out of my car, she comes flying out the door a few feet from me, dressed as I'd expected her to be on our first date. In a dress. It's black and made of a blowy material, the sleeves are puffed around her upper arm, her neckline is square exposing the beginnings of her back and chest. Then it flares out and down around her knees. To top it off, she's in a pair of black heels.

"Ryle!" She waves excitedly and steers herself in my direction without faltering.

"Hi!" She says as she reaches me and I smirk down at her.