She wasn’t planning on meeting him tonight.
Her plans involved having a cozy Monday afternoon with her friends, catching up and doing the stuff they loved doing together. But life has a creative way of ruining plans. After hours of getting ready, she headed down to the mall and was the last one to arrive; unsurprisingly late. She met her friends at a familiar chicken restaurant and was convinced that she’ll go home early tonight. In the middle of their lengthy and juicy conversations, she was occasionally holding up her white feature phone to check if there was any message from him. There always was. That made her smile. So even though she wasn’t with him, she was all right.
AFTER SOME HOURS
“Now…?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said loudly. The speakers were booming in the background. “They want to meet you.”
“I’ll be there in less than an hour,” he said.
And so he arrived.
On the way home, he was gently holding her wrist the entire time. She was the talker and she talked about everything. He was steadying her when she can’t walk straight, sliding his hand down the arch of her back, guiding her, as they were walking along the pavement.
She couldn’t remember most of what happened (mostly because she got drunk). But what she could remember is him being there for her when she needed someone to take her home, him being the one who bought her favorite popcorn because she was kinda talking about it nonstop and him being the companion that she was lucky enough to have.
They halted in front of a small lilac gate. He looked at her, unappeased, but baffled by the sight of the woman standing in front of her. She was messy, but she was his. He leaned over to kiss her forehead.
“Goodnight,” he told her.
Before she closed the door, she was looking at him leave.
“Damn! I am a lucky bitch,” the drunken girl inside her said.
(image from: https://weheartit.com/entry/133173705)