Something had to be wrong with her.
All of her friends in high school had talked about boys (some of them even girls) with as much enthusiasm as she had for her books (and that was a lot.) But she looked at other people and never felt the pull of gravity towards them. There was never that blinding florescent light above her in the darkness to draw her in and zap her wings off.
There was none of that.
Until Arlo.
She met him the first week of college at a small gathering thrown by the RAs in their building. She thought he was nice and funny, and she needed to make some friends. She gave him her number, but again, there wasn’t anything more than lukewarm water in her kettle of feelings.
She thought he was cute—he was a tall, thin, white boy with hair the reddest of red and a bit of a Star Wars obsession—someone her okaasan might not approve of anyway. She admired him the same way she looked at her favorite Van Gogh—he was beautiful to look at, but he didn’t make her want to take off her clothes. That was fine though. He would have never liked her anyway—her waist didn’t go in enough, and she had one too many chins.
She was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.
Like ever.
He couldn’t help but stare at the way her eyes crinkled and her lips curled in a small smile when she started to ramble about the latest book she had finished (which seemed to be a new one every few days). He often found himself doodling cartoon versions her in the far corner of his notebook. Every time he went back through to study, he would smile at the round face with long black hair staring back at him.
Months flew by.
Christmas came and went.
The second semester started.
Still, she felt nothing but friendship for him.
This was okay. Friendships were important too. She probably needed those more than any romantic relationship anyway. Friendships just got you pizza dates. They had no chance at getting you pregnant or contracting Chlamydia.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d find himself staring out of an open window in class, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Even a peek at a black pony tail would give his heart a jolt.
Miki.
He was in love with her.
But he was too terrified to tell her.
So summer came and his secret remained.
She missed his presence while she read by the lake at her parents’ summer home.
He stared at his phone, thinking everything about her, but saying nothing to her.
It started slowly.
She liked to watch him sketch periodically for a few minutes at a time, temporarily distracted as she peered over the top of her book before her mind gently reminded her to get back to business.
Those few minutes turned into not being able to read at all with him around.
What was going on? What was wrong with her? And why was she getting the sudden desire to press her lips against his?
The trees were painted with the reds of the changing leaves as they strolled down the road. It was a student ritual to walk to downtown on weekends in October. There was a group of friends all dressed in hoodies in front of them in the near distance.
They were a group of just two.
They walked idly, taking special care to step over the occasional tree root poking out of the red brick sidewalk. They chatted about their classes. Arlo talked about the online response to his latest Star Wars fanart. His hand kept brushing against Miki’s. Every graze was met with a sharp intake of her lungs. At some point, she stopped listening. All she could think about was holding his hand.
They rounded the corner of Washington Street and walked up the sloping sidewalk to their favorite café for a quick bite. They pushed past a group of women dressed as the Sanderson sisters before they reached the front door. They crammed into the crowded room and ordered after waiting in line for a good ten minutes. On any other weekend, they would have sat down somewhere, but being day before Halloween, there was not a vacated seat to be had. They took their sandwiches and headed towards the statue of Samantha from Bewitched. They stood and watched the tourists take pictures in front of it as they devoured their lunch. Their breath was visible as they chewed. Once they had finished, they threw their wrappers in a nearby bin and headed for the Peabody Essex Museum.
They went through the double glass-doors and up to the counter on the left. They pulled out their student IDs and handed them to the cashier. She gave them a quick glance before handing them back with a pair of tickets. They took them and shoved their IDs back in their pockets before heading off past her.
With the exception of the visiting exhibits, they had seen it all before. It was a small museum and it never changed. Normally, their first stop would have been the Chinese house, but it was outside, so they skipped it that day. Instead they went up to the top floor.
They were greeted by a vast room full of large painted figureheads recovered from old Viking ships. It was empty. They moved towards the windows overlooking the heart of downtown.
“It’s insane how many people are here right now,” Miki commented, pressing her hands against the tall glass, as she gazed down at the crowds below.
“Yeah, but you know how it gets. It’s Salem.”
“I guess. But I feel like there were fewer people last year.”
“That’s because it was raining.”
“Oh yeah,” she said, distracted for a moment. She pointed at a tall woman. “Oh hey check out that lady.”
“Who Catwoman?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Bet you think she’s hot, right.”
“Nah,” he said, coming up from behind her. He rested his head on her shoulder. “She’s not really my type. There are girls I think are beautiful, but she’s not one of them.”
“Who do you think is beautiful then?”
“You.”
She turned sharply, causing him to stand up straight. She stared at him wide-eyed. Did he say what she thought he had said?
His mind started to panic. Had he really just said that?
Why did he say that? And why had it had set her heart on fire?
Should he have just said that?
She crashed her lips against his like the waves breaking against the rocky shoreline. He stared at her, his eyes becoming like the beacons on a lighthouse. She pressed up against him, her need for further contact growing inside of her. He wasn’t necessarily making her want to take her clothes off, but he was making her want to do other things. Like kiss his face until her lips turned raw.
The unrest in Arlo’s mind erased in a flash. He wrapped his bony arms around her, taking in all of her body. He closed his eyes and kissed her back with such passion that he would have been able to cure cancer if disease could be conquered by love alone.
If this was what all kissing was like, she never wanted to go a day without kissing again.The golden light of the sun cascaded through the windows and rested on their connected bodies. He was kissing her, finally kissing her after so long of waiting, resigned to his position as best friend and confident. He never asked for more, never expected more, loving her no matter what she wanted from him. If this was what she wanted now, he was never going to stop kissing her. And he was never going to stop loving her.
Sarah Henrich 