A lump of hard candy upon a thin stick; they call it a lollipop. Elys rolled her cerise tongue around a crimson one with the flavor of a sugared pome. I couldn't watch the movie, for looking at her. A flock of words began to flutter in my brain, as if they had just hit puberty and wanted to form some lustful poem.
I didn't say anything. I hardly touched the popcorn, which covered the slightly throbbing pulse coming from my pants. I stole glances at her lazuline peepers; at her thin, smooth wrists; at her rude nipples snapping at the air conditioning; at the sizzle of freckles that seemed to tease reality itself. . . .
The words kept coming to me, and I was sure I could have exploded with the anticipation of constructing a kiss between our lips.
Just then, she switched the Popsicle to her left hand and pawed at my arm in excitement. I looked up at the screen, half nervous that she had noticed all I was doing was staring at her, and witnessed a few seconds of a car chase before going back to eyeballing her. For a moment I considered reaching for her hand, but I feared that the popcorn bucket would fall.
I managed to calm my exuberance, before the credits started to roll. She walked out, in front of me, and I watched as her bright hair danced about her spotted shoulders that went mostly uncovered by the tank top she wore.
We segued our evening's date into the Sanctuary Cafe over on the other side of the boulevard. The lollipop was just a thin, pink thing that she held like a cigarette when we sank into a booth in the center of the place.
Elys didn't smoke, but I had the feeling that vapors were pouring from her. I wanted to inhale.
The radiance before me, in the form of this beautiful young woman, asked lightly, "How did you like the film?"
Before I could hesitate for a response, a waitress appeared to take our order. "Hey, guys, what can I get you?" she asked, while scanning the entrance for new customers.
I looked into Elys' disarming eyes and, with half a grin, raised my eyebrows to let her know that the ordering was up to her. Would we eat; would we have coffee?
She beamed a smile at me, and said to the waitress, "We'll just have some coffee, thanks."
"Coffee it is," echoed the waitress, as she sauntered away and disappeared behind the counter.
"I thought it was good--you know--for a Hollywood feature." The words stumbled out of my mouth, heavy with the worry that she had noticed all too well that I’d been unable to escape from looking at her for almost all of that hour and a half in the quasi-darkness.
"Yeah," she agreed, and after a pause concluded, "but Brad Pitt was really good."
It seemed to me that I was off the hook, in terms of having to talk plot details or characters. To complete the deal, the waitress placed a carafe of steaming coffee on the table.
We poured, and stirred. "I had this strange dream the other night," I offered.
"Oh, tell me about it, Jack. I want to tell you a dream that I had."
"It was weird. I was going through my house to the backyard, but when I got there it was filled with birds--hundreds of birds. Then, I woke up."
"You know, sometimes you freak me out."
"How? What do you mean?"
"You get so intense when you talk."
"I certainly don't mean to do that."
"I don't know. Maybe it's me. Anyway, let me tell you my dream."
"Coolness."
"I was in sitting in my psychology class and Mister Fido had this list of students he wanted to talk to, and there was a television that was playing some horror movie. It was really bizarre. Then Andrew tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away because he has a girlfriend. I woke up so worried."
"Maybe you're just worried about the class," I suggested.
"I don't worry about that class, but I do worry about getting sick again and missing school."
I paused, unwilling to reveal my curiosity as jealousy. "So, do you think Andrew likes you or something?"
"Andrew's a friend. I don't think he likes me. He's forever staring at my chest, but a lot of boys do that. I don't know why they do it; I mean you do it, too, sometimes. I don't have big boobs." She looked at me like she was waiting for an answer that the butterflies in my stomach told me might be more important than the details of the film I hardly saw.
"Well, I think it's just a thing guys do that we probably shouldn't. I know I can't help it; you are beautiful everywhere."
She smiled, and I breathed easier. We sipped from our cups. After a moment or two, she reached out her hand and held mine from across the table. I started to remember all those words that had bloomed inside my brain as we sat in the dark, but my mouth was frozen with excitement and my crotch was trembling.
"Jack, sometimes you can be so very sweet," she said, while tugging at my arm and leaning over the table to offer me a kiss. Her lips touched mine, and I looked into her luminous eyes as I surrendered to that first kiss with all the longing in my heart. I didn't explode, but I felt the tingle of moisture trickle down my right thigh. It must have been near eleven o'clock, and most likely I was in love.
For Natalia
