For the third time he reached over to touch her shoulder. His other two attempts were great failures, but he was determined. Just then, she turned towards him a little bit. She began to say, "Steven, I really li..." But at that point it was too late for Steven to alter his approach, he had committed to the action. He ended up sort of open handed poking the top of her boob.
Immediately she jerked back. Tilted her head to the left about 30 degrees, and arched her left eyebrow.
"Hey. Uh." Steven says. "I uh like your sweater..." It wasn't like everything he did was fraught with awkwardness, but it was definitely embroidered with it.
"Yeah, it's nice." Sandra looked down, rolling her fists into her sweater and began to pull it in the opposite direction of Steven. She was focusing on the small holes that appear when she stretched the wool of her sweater. She wondered what caused the small strands to mutiny from the main body of the sweater, and go off in their own direction. Surely they all started with the same mission? But at this point they had all forgotten their original lofty dreams of being together and providing warmth. Now they were old bickering couples scratching and and fighting, hiding small poking thorns never to be found, always to be felt.
"Hey don't pull your sweater like that." Steven said. Hoping some god would grant him more panache than he ever had, went in to attempt a move way outside of his ability. He grabbed her hand through her sweater, looked her right in the eyes and said, "I love you."
Except. He didn't exactly look her in the eyes. Like. If she hadn't turned her head away just then, by some complete coincidence, he would have seen her eyes. But her ear was still lovely and it didn't detract at all from his feelings, or the sentiment. And he said, "I love you."
Or well, he would have said I love you. If his throat didn't swell up and he didn't cough a little. In his mind all that was playing were the words, "I love you."
So what, "I *ahe* loke your sweater.." is what came out. He still held her hand while he said it, and surely she understood his feelings, they were clear, no matter what he actually said. Body language accounts for 86% of non-verbal communication after all.
Well. If he was being entirely honest with his assessment of the situation, he didn't grab her hands, he grabbed her crotch.
"Wow, first and second base. If you like my sweater so much you can take it." Except, Sandra realized the image she must have created for Steven seconds too late. She jumped up out of the chair and tripped over herself heading towards the door. Looking back, she saw the confused look on Steven's face. Though she felt bad, she couldn't say as much. "Am I a fucking awkward magnet?" she grumbled as she left.
Looking at the ground towards the door Steven asked, "Do you want to go home?" The floor, not realizing it wasn't at home fell into deep duress. His question received no response.
Though, as Sandra was walking out the door Steven found his grace. In one swift motion he stood up from his seat, slid his black leather jacket on and cooly strutted towards the door. He glanced back over his shoulder with a look that would have melted the strongest willed of hearts. The blend of a certain contentedness, or understanding that not all awkwardness can be forgiven, human as it is, and a new found knowledge that he'd never get to love the girl he loved the way he dreamed balanced together and for just a moment, he seemed entirely lovely.
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