"Can I get you a drink?" said the woman.
"A glass of apple juice, please," I replied.
"A what?"
"I can't drink anything else right now," I said defensively. "It's not illegal, right?"
"At eight-thirty at night?"
"Why, yes. It's still no crime," I said with a dry laugh.
She hurried off to fetch my glass of juice. Molly would be proud that I resisted the urge to drink another coffee. She shuffled into the room, and instantly I knew it was Molly from the smell of her coconut lotion. Just as she entered, the woman came back with my glass.
"Here you are, sir." She placed the glass in front of me with a little striped straw bent over the rim.
Molly put her arm around my shoulder. "Hey, look at you, ordering something new."
"Silly."
"Are you ready to go?" she asked in her puppy-way.
"Right after I finish this. You want some?"
Without replying she nodded and lowered her head to sip from the straw. I could smell her shampoo now, something floral and refreshing. Bliss!
Once the glass was empty, I stood and looked at her. "Let's go."
"Well, aren't you forgetting something?" said Molly, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Oh, um... I mean—your outfit looks really cute, Molly," I said quickly. It was really nothing too special (loose fitted jeans with a tucked in black top and matching belt, reminding me a little of a Saturday excursion outfit for a celebrity—my sweet Molly, that is who you are to me although we aren't anything), but I knew how much she loved hearing me compliment anything she wore.
"Why, thank you!" Truthfully I'd do anything to see that half-second flush on her cheek.
Her hair, hardly had I noticed until now, had two snap clips holding back where her adorable fringe blended into the rest of her hair. I made are to keep quiet about how I felt in order to avoid over-doing it.
We exited the building into the night, a comfortable temperature to be without a coat. I walked to the right of her to protect her from the traffic, and although she wanted to skip ahead in excitement, she stayed by my side. The wind swept through her hair, ruffling it ever so slightly that it only re-emphasized what she outwardly expressed. I longed to hold her hand with my left, to have the coconut lotion mix with the sweat in my palm, or to feel both of our hearts beating at the same time through a physical touch. Stronger was the fear of her pulling away, saying: "What is it you think you're doing?", looking at me with the same eyes that smiled at me, but instead with confusion and a bit of disgust. Admittedly it was irrational, but we had never crossed a line between our friendship. Looking at her relaxed face and hearing the swish-swoosh of her blue jeans stopped the annoyance for a moment.
"Shall I hail a cab?" I suggested suddenly.
"Never mind that," she said. "I want to walk with you."
"You're funny. Haven't we been doing that?"
She laughed and tugged at my arm. "You know what I mean. Plus, it's such a nice night out, wouldn't you agree?"
I did. "Better that you're here." The street lights cast a glow on a piece of her hair, and for one reason or another I was transfixed on the way she brushed the piece of her hair from her cheek. As if she could read my thoughts, she stopped in her tracks and turned to face me.
"Are you staring at me?"
I could not answer right away. My heart was frozen. Believing I was caught in a mix between awe at her sudden attractiveness or my embarrassment at being called out, I sputtered out whatever came first in my stream of thoughts.
"No—no... sorry, I was just distracted by something."
Judging by an unbothered shrug and a continued walk forward, I knew she probably didn't believe me. Her eyes, although an uninteresting brown color, were entrancing me each day I spent with her, which of course seemed to be less and less. Those hurtful eyes looked one moment at me with so much joy that I may anticipate that she'll tell me something life-changing, and the next with an indescribable plainness and indifference at even, so it seems, our friendship. Perhaps she was unnerved by my obvious deviations to what I was doing, which was also not-so-subtle in the way that I'd hoped. But, had that been true, it would not explain the times when I, sitting idly in the mundane, would catch her looking at me with her cheek upon her palm. It would not explain when simple conversations between us suddenly made her trip over her words. And, most alarming of all, it would not explain the intense jealousy I sensed through her endless questions like "who was that woman you were talking to?".
She passed a particular shop window that caught her eye, so with a tug of my sleeve that sent my heart spiraling, we stopped to look. As she was pointing out the intricacies of the forgettable items on display, I was overcome by an urge to kiss her. Perhaps it was the way her lips were moving as she described such an outwardly boring thing; it was full of enough passion to fascinate me.
"What are you doing?" she asked, releasing herself from my atrocious attempt at an embrace.
Aside from being intoxicated by the scent of her lotions and shampoo, it seemed like for just a split second she actually melted into my arms, like she enjoyed my sudden action, before returning to her unfortunate senses.
I instantly regretted trying anything and tumbled backward into the street light. She wouldn't just let it go, however.
"Look, I don't want to come off the wrong way, but we shouldn't take things too far, you know? I don't um...want to ruin what we have here..."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You know what I mean." She looked me dead in the eye. "I'm not crazy for that, right?"
"No," I managed to say in suppressed tears. "No, not at all..."
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