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Bela Luna
Author of 21 Stories |
20&22 April 2006
This was something that I had thought up a few months ago but never got around to writing. Set in modern times, not sure if there is any romance at this point, but we'll all see soon.
Disclaimer: I do not own No Rest for the Wicked ( w w w . . n e t ). This comic belongs to Andrea L. Peterson.
She stood there, her back aching from the weight of the textbooks in her pack. She let out an inaudible groan and shifted her weight form leg to leg. For a moment she thought ill of her boots -high platforms that made her unnaturally tall- but then dropped the thought when she remembered that she could run in them just as easily as she could in trainers.
Not even this thought that often brought her pride -after all, they were leather and unsuitable during the unbearable summer days- didn't comfort her when she noticed the tall figure standing a mere two metres away from her. He was tall, and would have been a full head taller if she had been wearing her favourite shoes. There was something considerably strange about him, from his strange light hair to his yellow-green eyes. His hair could have been dyed, contacts stuck in his eyes, but November doubted that someone would go to such lengths in make-up and colouring just to make everything lighter.
They stood there, not speaking a word, as November grew more worried. She chewed on her fishnet sleeve and caught herself, embarrassed despite the fact that it didn't seem like he had noticed. The bus late for the third night this week and November had an important Chemistry test the next morning. This was the real reason why she hadn't been sleeping well: she had been coming home late and getting to bed at an ungodly hour. She didn't dare remind herself of her difficulty falling asleep.
After five more minutes -she had been checking her watch repeatedly- the bus finally came to Bus Stop 39. She clomped up the high steps and deposited her change before taking a seat three rows behind the driver. November shut her eyes briefly, rubbing the tired lids and throbbing temples.
She raised her weary eyes and stilled. She gripped her pack with shaking hands, more shocked than frightened for the boy that was standing on the bus stop with her was sitting six seats behind her. He grinned into the mirror and she ducked her head, hoping that the warmth in her face was just a sign that needed more rest.
The next night she stood at bus stop 39, clutching her biology book and scuffing the ground with her boot. November rubbed one eye, carefully avoiding the eye-liner she applied to help hide the forming shadows. She looked to her right and there he was, waiting in his black trench coat and boots. She felt the small pressure in her chest lift.
November went to the library very night, each time wearing her boots and ill-hidden excitement. She would sit three seats behind the driver, and each night he would sit on seat closer. On Friday she went to library as she usually did, but had been in rush that morning to get to school that she had to settle on her regular boots and felt significantly shorter than she usually did. On Friday night she stood at the bus stop, feet together in her boots, scratching against the bare ankle that the socks hadn't managed to cover. She stood there, much more aware of the sounds that night than she ever had.
She looked to her right and saw that the boy was there, but no longer was she just below his eyes -she could barely reach his shoulder. Her heart fell heavily and beat painfully against her ribs. She boarded the bus and paid her fare, taking her usual seat.
November stared at the mirror and couldn't stop her eyes from growing and her jaw slacking. She looked to her left and saw him sitting next to her in the opposite aisle, and she couldn't tell whether he was smirking or grinning. She turned her gaze away, an unmistakable flush catching hold of her visage. November tossed her red-brown hair over one shoulder and crossed her ankles, watching the people go by on the sidewalk.
She looked back at him and found him looking at her as well. He nodded, as though to say "Hello." She nodded back, an irrepressible smile coming to her face. He looked ahead of him and November looked back out the mirror, tugging her suddenly too-tight shirt to meet her capris.
November sat that way for the rest of the ride, stealing glances every now and then at him. Next time, she would talk to him, inquire his him, and introduce herself properly. For now, silence suited her just fine.
