Staring {Fiction/Non Fiction}

He stared. He waited. The eagerness to pop the question made him sweat more feverishly than the days on the rugby field. You knew he was tensed if you had seen him. I knew I was, just by looking into him.

What was he staring at? What was the question? Even he didnt know. I didnt have a clue either. The two cute girls in the next table were giggling to themselves. Maybe the dark, tall and handsome features he possessed could have helped in their laughter. Were they blushing? Well atleast it was a sign that he was attractive. That was a good ego boost and guess he needed it.

The gold lighting of the interior had already set the mood when he stepped into the restaurent. He knew it was going to be the perfect place. But to do what? He had anxiously bought that rose not sure in what context he was buying it in. Was it for a friend or was there more? He was confused again.

He knew he was going to miss her. He was departing soon. The luxurious life in Manhattan was awaiting his arrival. That’s the life he always wanted and longed for, but did he want it now, at that moment of time. He knew that even a billion dollar cheque would not be enough to turn tables and give away the feeling he possessed right now and there. The pro-Manhattan soul within him popped out right now and was bashing his head, “Dude whats wrong with you, screw this gal, you can get many more in NY”. He didnt want to listen. After all, he had listened to this “pro-enjoy life ” person within him before and had made a grave mistake.

He knew he was going to stutter if he opened his mouth. Her chapstick just sat there on the table. A slight glimpse at it and the jealousy eroded through his veins. He was jealous of a stupid chapstick. Was he getting plain pathetic or was this the first time he was sitting with a girl? The latter was a big lie if he said it out aloud.

All he wanted to do was run his strong big hands against her soft neck and hold her - gently of course. He knew that if she held his hand, she would feel the pulse and in return feel his soul. Did he want to take that risk?

With the squeakiest of voices, he ordererd his meal when the waiter arrived. She, the assertive one, had already requested a portion of tender tandoori chicken. They both ordered a glass of red wine each. He thought that might smoothen the mood but she loved red wine and had no other intentions. He couldn’t believe his suddent change in personality. The usually funny, outspoken lad had become quiet, soft-spoken and unbelievably shy. Maybe the feminine side in him had appeared at the wrong time.

[Dinner to be Continued....]