New directions. Diego Uribe
on my left shoulder and I didn't say anything because, what could I say to him? I let him do it because I liked the feeling, although it killed me on the inside. He put his hand on my leg and he would tease me by drawing invisible doodles on my jeans with his index finger. Who knows what was he drawing or writing? Until he saw my tattoo and he grabbed my left wrist and pulled it closer to his face to appreciate it better.
“Wow, nice! What does it mean?” he asked, drawing with his finger the same lines that were already inked on my arm.
“It means many things to me, but basically it's a Harry Potter thing” I explained.
“Oh, yeah. I thought I had already seen it somewhere. Did it hurt?”
“No, not as much as I expected.”
“I could never...”
He leaned his head on my shoulder again and slipped his hand until it met mine and our fingers intertwined. His skin was warm compared to mine. I have bad blood circulation, something I apparently inherited from my mother, she had the same thing. Honestly I wouldn't wish it on anybody...
“You can sleep if you want to, I'll take care of you” I told him.
“Thanks” he whispered in my ear and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
He didn't fall asleep, but he shut his eyes very peacefully and he didn't say anything else for some time. I just stood there watching the people at the party, everyone was doing their own thing. I've always found it amusing to watch people at parties, so happy, having a good time in their own way. Some are happy dancing, singing their hearts out, getting drunk, just hanging out with good company, with good music blasting in the background and celebrating whatever it is that people who go out celebrate. I can't blame them... I was happy there, in my own way: Fran sitting next to me, his head on my shoulder, holding hands. Then Nico showed up to buy some drinks and he looked at us from head to toe for a moment.
“Are you two dating?” he asked.
I didn't answer, I just looked at Fran. He said we weren't... “Not yet” I thought. It was getting late and people started leaving little by little and so did we. We went out to the street and no one seemed to have the slightest idea of where we were. Fran and I waited outside for our classmates.
“I want to buy shoes like yours one day, I like those” he said, looking at my blue boat shoes.
We met with our classmates and everything happened so fast. I lost sight of him for a second while I was talking to my friends, trying to find a way to get back to our houses. Nico grabbed a taxi, Fran came to me and gave me a hug.
“I'll talk to you later” he said.
“Yeah, let's do that” I replied.
He left... and when he got in the taxi with Nico, I realized I didn't have his number, neither had I asked for it. I was such an idiot...
Chapter 6: First date
The next Monday, I went to the barbershop. I decided it was time for a makeover, a change. I really enjoy going to the barbershop, it gives me certain pleasure. I think it's really hard to find a hairdresser that actually does what you ask them to and how you'd like it. I also think that it's funny how the hairdresser, eventually, becomes a sort of therapist or confidant friend to whom you can talk to, share stuff about yourself, and even get advice. I think that a hairdresser and a therapist should be one person because that would save people a lot of money. It would also be a relief from all the tension in sessions and one would actually relax and enjoy it more. Anyway, when I got home, I took a selfie and uploaded it to the internet to see what people thought of my new look. Fran left a comment asking me if I was aware that I shouldn't do anything to my hair due to the show that we had coming up at the end of the year. I asked him if he liked it and I assured him that it would've already grown back by that time, so he didn't need to worry. Then he sent me a direct message with a series of numbers, also saying that social media was not the right place for us to talk anymore. He asked me to send him a message so that he could have my number and that way it would be easier for us to talk. I then understood that the series of numbers was in fact his cellphone number. He also told me that he was running out of battery, small detail. What was the use of sending him a message then? I told him it was useless if he had no battery, but he insisted I should text him in spite of that, he said he would borrow a charger. Anyway, I gave him my number just in case and later we were indeed talking. Maybe it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. On the next day, he talked to me, and the next day, I did, and the next day, he talked to me again. As I said before, it wasn't much. Our conversations were basically “Hi” “How are you?” and “What are you doing?”, with their corresponding answers, and that was it. By Friday, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to talk about what had happened last Saturday, I couldn't let it go, I couldn't pretend that nothing had happened and just move on (could he?). So, in the middle of our conversation I asked him out on a date sometime over the next few days. He said yes, but not during the weekend because he was too busy, during the week in general actually; between work and the institute he didn't have much spare time. By the way, Fran works at a bakery. He told me at the party that night. Since then, I consider him my own Peeta Mellark***, isn't that romantic? He told me Monday was his day off and that we could do something then. So we agreed to talk on that same day and see what we came up with, and we didn't talk after that throughout the whole weekend.
And so it arrived, the so precious Monday, and his text arrived at around 3:00 p.m. He told me he was about to begin his singing lesson and I told him I also had my singing lesson but from 6:00 to 6:30 p.m. We agreed to talk then and do something later, after that. Luckily, time went by fast and so did my singing lesson and, at the end of it, we were texting again. He told me he had just got home after doing some assignment with a classmate of his, that he was kind of tired because he hadn't been home all day, and that he needed to take a shower and leave his stuff, but he still wanted to meet. As we talked, I also went back home to take a shower and change clothes (to get ready actually...) and also give him some time. I wanted to have a coffee, he wanted to get something to eat. It wasn't until 8:00 p.m. that we were both clean and almost ready, we got back to our conversation and we agreed to meet in an hour at the Olleros subway station, near his home (at least from what I knew) and not so far from mine either. There was a Starbucks in the corner in case we wanted coffee and a McDonald's right next to it if we wanted dinner. I, incredibly, arrived there on time. It was drizzling, which was the perfect weather to me. I stood there staring at the publicity signs and posters on the street until Fran arrived 20 minutes later. He apologized but I wasn't mad at him at all (at least not that much...). We got in the McDonald's and ordered, we both ordered the same burger (coincidence?). We looked for a table on the first floor and we found an empty one where we could talk. He started talking about himself while I started eating. I wasn't really hungry and, besides, my burger had dressings on it although I asked them not to put any, but I ate it anyway. Fran told me about his family, about the plays he had took part in (that I had already seen in pictures) and a little bit about his life before the institute and before moving to Buenos Aires. By the way, Fran is from Rosario, Santa Fe. I didn't talk much honestly, I would just nod and listen carefully. It's just that I'm not good at eating and talking at the same time, it takes a lot of effort for me to do those two things simultaneously. But Fran did it effortlessly, he would eat and talk without struggling. My fries were already cold so I only ate a few, but Fran would continue eating and telling me more about himself. His life was a pretty interesting chaos all in all, just like everyone else's life I guess. I'm the least appropriate person to say this... I liked listening to him, getting to know him and learn more about him. Every once in a while, Fran would ask me if I was bored or anything. Of course not! Time went flying by... I actually didn't check my watch while we were there, not even once, which is pretty odd for me given my chronophobia****. But I did realize that time had flown by when the security guard came to our table and told us that the place would be closing in 15 minutes and we would have to leave by then. How did time pass by so quickly? Had we really been there for 3 hours? It's not that I really cared about time, as long as I was with him... We left the restaurant and started walking towards his house. It was still drizzling and the temperature had dropped. During our walk, I was able to speak more, luckily. We walked