bunni how we first met not working anywhere

She wouldn’t reject me harshly, of course. I was just there, never the first friend, but always the third or fourth option whenever people wanted someone to help them. I couldn’t bear to think that I would confess to her, only for her to turn me down. Would she feel the same? No-one seemed interested in me. Our favorite movies, why we liked our favorite colors, our family, our fears, our sadness, our shames. We would talk for hours and hours about mindless things. We would walk to my house, sometimes her house and just talk. We would repeat this routine every afternoon, for all four years of high school.

I reach for her hand and she clasps mine, interlocking our fingers. I want to reach out and hold her, hug her, comfort her, tell her everything would be okay. They’re brown and when the afternoon sun hits them, they look golden. Where is he, I asked, not remembering her talk about a father figure. Heaven, she replies as she makes eye contact with me. She laughed back, and told me her father gave the cat that name. She told me about her artist mother and her two younger twin brothers who liked causing trouble and her pet cat, Pearl who was blind in her left eye and as black as tar. She agreed and as we walked home, she told me about her family. We had become friends through the assignment and after school I asked her to come over to my house. I finally mustered up my courage to ask her out. I would turn into a stumbling mess and my heart-rate would spike to astronomical heights. When I was near her I couldn’t think straight. She came late to class and we were paired up together to work on an assignment about something– I can’t remember what it was. It was for a Science class that we crossed paths. Our pairing couldn’t have been more out of the blue. Beautiful to look at, but always kept away far from reach. The star on the top of the Christmas tree. She was excited to make new friends, try new things be adventurous. I would do anything to stay like this forever. We both don’t make an attempt to speak, both too intoxicated in sunlight to form full sentences. Pieces of attempted conversation float through the air, fragments of thoughts and unfinished sentences. We bask in the warmth, of each other, of summer and speaking of nothing, but everything at the same time. She smells like lavender and honey and coffee and loves wearing blue sundresses with little flowers on them. Her hand is in mine and I trace patterns on her palm. Her dark hair occasionally falls onto my head and we would both laugh as she playfully brushes it away from my face. I rest my head in her lap and she runs her fingers through my hair. A late summer breeze drifts through the windows of the tree house, a slightly chilly gust, reminding me and her that these warm summer days would soon come to an end. The warm afternoon sun filters through the honey tinted leaves of the large oak tree.

Bunni how we first met not working anywhere