Post by moonwick on Apr 21, 2006 12:37:44 GMT -5
The night was clear, black, and alive as Emily’s high heels clicked and clacked on one of the many crosswalks that stamped the city streets. “I hate dressing up!” she hissed under her breath as a cab driver whistled and stared at her hungrily like a piece of meat. Emily shot him a dirty look and pulled her jacket closer around herself, stepping up onto the curb. The coffee house he chose to meet at was a charming little place, open late into the night for the convenience of those who never sleep. A cheerful, welcoming glow spilled from the large windows, and through one Emily could see that Mr. Garvey Taylor had already arrived, though she herself was ten minutes early. The young man was drinking coffee and reading a copy of USA Today, completely unaware of the green eyes watching him through the glass. In that moment, Emily almost ran for it, terrified of taking this step, terrified of getting hurt…terrified of trust itself. After all that had happened, the girl couldn’t trust. Will this one be like all the others? Chew me up and spit me out? And Emily shuddered when she thought of those in her past…the ones who had damaged her, the ones who had…
“Hi! I saw you through the window and I thought maybe we could be on the same side of the looking glass,” Garvey laughed, holding open the door. Emily smiled and went in, embarrassed. “You look nice,” he said, following her.
“Thanks, so do you. It’s a relief to see a guy who’s not wearing some ridiculous costume,” she joked to herself aloud.
“Um…what?”
Emily giggled at the confused (and somewhat disgusted) expression on the face of her acquaintance. “Well, I sort-of…wrestle. For the PCW.” She winced, waiting for the bad reaction that usually follows once people are faced with a woman who doesn’t fit into the feminine expectations of society.
But on the contrary, and to Emily’s surprise, Garvey actually looked interested. “Really? You don’t seem like the type at all.”
“I’m not the type,” she explained. “It’s not like I’m obsessed with wrestling or with being a tough cookie. I’m not trying to prove anything. I just enjoy the concentration and skill that it takes…ya know…always up for a challenge and that nonsense.” She blushed, aware that they had been talking about her this whole time, and quickly changed the subject. “So…what do you do?”
“I’m in college, studying to be a marine biologist. It’s really cool. Sometimes I get to go on trips to the ocean and study different species there.” Emily asked question after question on this topic, eager to hear about things she had never seen. Garvey answered all of them, grinning and delighted with the lively creature that sat before him. She laughed at his jokes, marveled at his adventures, and encouraged his stories. The two talked for hours, and neither of them noticed the passing of time.
“Ooh, fun! I’ve never been to the ocean before. To tell the truth, I’m a little scared of it. So deep, so vast…there’s no telling what’s in it.” Emily sipped her coffee, her big, curious eyes peering over the brim of the cup, taking in the stranger who sat across from her.
“Aw, come on…I thought you were a wrestler!” Garvey laughed, nudging her. “And wrestlers aren’t supposed to be scared of anything! They’re supposed to conjure up fear in others!” His laughter was warm and honest: it filled up the gaps between them and made Emily feel she had known him all her life.
“Hey, do you think any of those big old muscle heads I come up against in the PCW are afraid of little ol’ me?!? They could bench press someone three times my size!”
His laughter decrescendoed into a quiet, friendly smile, and for a moment the two caught each other’s eyes, until Emily’s danced away while she blushed again with a shy smirk on her lips.
“Are you afraid of me?” she asked, teasing.
“I don’t think so,” Garvey replied, still smiling, still gazing at her eyes. She couldn’t look again. She wouldn’t. Not yet.
“Good,” she said, finishing the last of her coffee and checking her watch. “Ooh, it’s late. I better get going.” She started digging through her black handbag, but Garvey touched her arm.
“It’s on me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to…”
“I want to.”
Emily smiled. “Okay. Thanks.” They stood up. “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” Garvey said, holding out his hand.
Emily reached out hers to shake hands, but he lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly instead. She giggled, shy and fidgety, hurriedly stuffing both hands into her coat pockets. “Well, haha…erm…goodnight!” And before the young man could say a word, Emily was out the door, crossing the street.
Garvey shook his head, still smiling. Afraid of the ocean, but not afraid to walk alone at night. “Sweet dreams, Emily DuPrae,” he whispered with a sigh.
“Hi! I saw you through the window and I thought maybe we could be on the same side of the looking glass,” Garvey laughed, holding open the door. Emily smiled and went in, embarrassed. “You look nice,” he said, following her.
“Thanks, so do you. It’s a relief to see a guy who’s not wearing some ridiculous costume,” she joked to herself aloud.
“Um…what?”
Emily giggled at the confused (and somewhat disgusted) expression on the face of her acquaintance. “Well, I sort-of…wrestle. For the PCW.” She winced, waiting for the bad reaction that usually follows once people are faced with a woman who doesn’t fit into the feminine expectations of society.
But on the contrary, and to Emily’s surprise, Garvey actually looked interested. “Really? You don’t seem like the type at all.”
“I’m not the type,” she explained. “It’s not like I’m obsessed with wrestling or with being a tough cookie. I’m not trying to prove anything. I just enjoy the concentration and skill that it takes…ya know…always up for a challenge and that nonsense.” She blushed, aware that they had been talking about her this whole time, and quickly changed the subject. “So…what do you do?”
“I’m in college, studying to be a marine biologist. It’s really cool. Sometimes I get to go on trips to the ocean and study different species there.” Emily asked question after question on this topic, eager to hear about things she had never seen. Garvey answered all of them, grinning and delighted with the lively creature that sat before him. She laughed at his jokes, marveled at his adventures, and encouraged his stories. The two talked for hours, and neither of them noticed the passing of time.
“Ooh, fun! I’ve never been to the ocean before. To tell the truth, I’m a little scared of it. So deep, so vast…there’s no telling what’s in it.” Emily sipped her coffee, her big, curious eyes peering over the brim of the cup, taking in the stranger who sat across from her.
“Aw, come on…I thought you were a wrestler!” Garvey laughed, nudging her. “And wrestlers aren’t supposed to be scared of anything! They’re supposed to conjure up fear in others!” His laughter was warm and honest: it filled up the gaps between them and made Emily feel she had known him all her life.
“Hey, do you think any of those big old muscle heads I come up against in the PCW are afraid of little ol’ me?!? They could bench press someone three times my size!”
His laughter decrescendoed into a quiet, friendly smile, and for a moment the two caught each other’s eyes, until Emily’s danced away while she blushed again with a shy smirk on her lips.
“Are you afraid of me?” she asked, teasing.
“I don’t think so,” Garvey replied, still smiling, still gazing at her eyes. She couldn’t look again. She wouldn’t. Not yet.
“Good,” she said, finishing the last of her coffee and checking her watch. “Ooh, it’s late. I better get going.” She started digging through her black handbag, but Garvey touched her arm.
“It’s on me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to…”
“I want to.”
Emily smiled. “Okay. Thanks.” They stood up. “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” Garvey said, holding out his hand.
Emily reached out hers to shake hands, but he lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly instead. She giggled, shy and fidgety, hurriedly stuffing both hands into her coat pockets. “Well, haha…erm…goodnight!” And before the young man could say a word, Emily was out the door, crossing the street.
Garvey shook his head, still smiling. Afraid of the ocean, but not afraid to walk alone at night. “Sweet dreams, Emily DuPrae,” he whispered with a sigh.