That Girl
I'd read the announcement about the art exhibition party taking place the next weekend in my apartment building, and decided it sounded like an interesting scene to check out — new people, kind of a creative element, and close to home in case it didn't pan out.
Upon arriving, I fairly quickly pieced together that this was a group of several artist friends whose work had been recently accepted into an exhibit, and they had thrown together the party to celebrate.
Though small, it was quite an event — several of the people there were in costume, and one girl kept things stirred around by dancing through the crowd, making exaggerated ballet-like gestures whenever she caught someone's momentary attention.
I was intrigued by a group of three girls standing in one corner of the room, giggling loudly. The apparent ringleader of the group was wearing an extravagant black and purple dress, and her round face was framed by short dark brown or black hair which she'd temporarily died purple at the ends and spiked outward. I meandered over to them and worked myself into the conversation.
I and the girl in purple immediately made a connection, and we joked back and forth for most of the night. She showed me her work, which I was delighted to sincerely enjoy the paintings, as opposed to feeling obligated to only pretend to like them. Before wrapping things up, she told me about a party she was having with a few of her close friends the next weekend, and without hesitation I agreed to see her there.
* * *
A week later I found myself having a very good time at the second party. Some familiar faces were there, and despite some extraordinarily bad homemade sushi one of the girl's friends had made (among other things, she'd forgotten to shell the shrimp she'd used, giving things a somewhat unpleasant extra crunch, to say the least), I was quite happy.
At one point, the girl leaned in close to me to whisper a joke about one of her friends, and counting the display of intimacy as a signal, and taking note of the pause after the secret, when her face remained close to mine, I smiled, glanced around, made eye contact, and timidly leaned over to kiss her.
Just before I got there, she pulled away. I was crushed.
For the remainder of the evening, I continued to mingle around, deciding it would be rude to leave too quickly after my disappointment. After a respectable delay, I wandered back into the closet to find my coat, so I could begin saying my goodbyes and head home.
"Hey there," I heard behind me, and turned around. There she was, her mouth twisted into an odd sort of smirk, and she stepped toward me. With no warning she stood up on her toes (being several inches shorter than I) and gave me a quick kiss. "You should have tried this is in a little more discreet location before," she said, and giggled. Another kiss followed.
"But . . ." I started.
She interrupted me. "No worries," she said. "This is good."
"I thought you weren't interested?" I asked.
"What can I say? I'm a goofy girl," and she stuck out her tongue, and crossed her eyes. The gesture was embarrassingly cute. "You'll love me. We're gonna have so much fun," she giggled.
My alarm clock had begun to go off, and the noise started to register in my head.
"Oh," she said. "I've gotta go. BUT, I'll be back next Wednesday, and I'll find you . . . call you . . . I'll think of something! Don't worry!" She waved, and began to run off.
". . . but what if I want to call you first?" I shouted after her.
She turned and laughed. "But you haven't met me yet! Remember, next Wednesday! Bye!"
By that point I was awake, and sat up in bed. . . .
Upon arriving, I fairly quickly pieced together that this was a group of several artist friends whose work had been recently accepted into an exhibit, and they had thrown together the party to celebrate.
Though small, it was quite an event — several of the people there were in costume, and one girl kept things stirred around by dancing through the crowd, making exaggerated ballet-like gestures whenever she caught someone's momentary attention.
I was intrigued by a group of three girls standing in one corner of the room, giggling loudly. The apparent ringleader of the group was wearing an extravagant black and purple dress, and her round face was framed by short dark brown or black hair which she'd temporarily died purple at the ends and spiked outward. I meandered over to them and worked myself into the conversation.
I and the girl in purple immediately made a connection, and we joked back and forth for most of the night. She showed me her work, which I was delighted to sincerely enjoy the paintings, as opposed to feeling obligated to only pretend to like them. Before wrapping things up, she told me about a party she was having with a few of her close friends the next weekend, and without hesitation I agreed to see her there.
* * *
A week later I found myself having a very good time at the second party. Some familiar faces were there, and despite some extraordinarily bad homemade sushi one of the girl's friends had made (among other things, she'd forgotten to shell the shrimp she'd used, giving things a somewhat unpleasant extra crunch, to say the least), I was quite happy.
At one point, the girl leaned in close to me to whisper a joke about one of her friends, and counting the display of intimacy as a signal, and taking note of the pause after the secret, when her face remained close to mine, I smiled, glanced around, made eye contact, and timidly leaned over to kiss her.
Just before I got there, she pulled away. I was crushed.
For the remainder of the evening, I continued to mingle around, deciding it would be rude to leave too quickly after my disappointment. After a respectable delay, I wandered back into the closet to find my coat, so I could begin saying my goodbyes and head home.
"Hey there," I heard behind me, and turned around. There she was, her mouth twisted into an odd sort of smirk, and she stepped toward me. With no warning she stood up on her toes (being several inches shorter than I) and gave me a quick kiss. "You should have tried this is in a little more discreet location before," she said, and giggled. Another kiss followed.
"But . . ." I started.
She interrupted me. "No worries," she said. "This is good."
"I thought you weren't interested?" I asked.
"What can I say? I'm a goofy girl," and she stuck out her tongue, and crossed her eyes. The gesture was embarrassingly cute. "You'll love me. We're gonna have so much fun," she giggled.
My alarm clock had begun to go off, and the noise started to register in my head.
"Oh," she said. "I've gotta go. BUT, I'll be back next Wednesday, and I'll find you . . . call you . . . I'll think of something! Don't worry!" She waved, and began to run off.
". . . but what if I want to call you first?" I shouted after her.
She turned and laughed. "But you haven't met me yet! Remember, next Wednesday! Bye!"
By that point I was awake, and sat up in bed. . . .