Evernote Dump

Look what I found on my Evernote! I wrote this months ago and I don't know WHY. Okay, maybe I do. It's for something I've been writing but lost the will to continue. Hah. This is one of the first scenes I wrote. It's fairly simple, really, and I remember promising myself that I'm going to polish this but I never got around to it, so it's just been gathering imaginary dust in the bottom of all my notes in Evernote. Then I downloaded the Evernote onto my phone last night and re-discovered this one. I'm going to post this out of all the other scenes because a.) I LIKE IT. There's no other reason. Hah. (This might not make sense though, because it's part of a story with an actual plot. Still.) 

P.S. YES, the theory is from HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER! HAHAHA!


"Red, have I ever told you about this theory I've read somewhere?"

"I don't know. You tell me a lot of things." He laughs and faces me. I sit Indian style on the couch, already facing him.

"Someone said that the moment leading up to a kiss is better than the actual kiss itself."


He scoots closer to me until his face is only about 10 inches away from mine.

"The moment," he puts a hand behind my head, "leading up to a kiss," he pulls me closer toward him until our foreheads our touching, "is better than the actual kiss itself."

I can't hear anything anymore. My heart's beating so fast. This is the closest we've been since we've met.

"Technically, we're not violating any of our rules here," he whispers, loud enough that I can hear him. I put my hands on both sides of his shoulder for support. I feel faint.

"No, we're not," I manage to breathe out finally. He pulls me closer again, the tips of our noses touching, our lips so close that all I have to do is lean forward a few centimeters and we'll be kissing.

But we agreed we wouldn't. 

He closes his eyes. His breathing is uneven. His face looks conflicted.

"Whose theory was that?" I ask, trying to deviate my attention from his soft-looking lips.

"I can't remember." He whispers again, after a few short seconds. I can feel his breath on my lips and I fight the urge that washes over me again to just lean in and forget whatever it was we had agreed to.

"This sucks." I close my eyes, suddenly feeling like crying. The feeling of him being so close to me and yet not being able to have him is so overwhelming.

He laughs, or I guess he tried to, because all that comes out from his mouth is something that sounded like a gasp. "I know. This isn't better than a kiss. It's worse."

The struggle in his voice is obvious and I thought for a second, he's just going to kiss me. But he doesn't.

I feel his hand move from behind my neck to play with my hair. I feel sleepy whenever someone plays with my hair, but I fight the urge to yawn. I want this moment to go on forever.

"You know what would be the worst thing to say right now?" I open my eyes and I see his green eyes staring  intently right into mine. Those beautiful green eyes. I want to be able to look at them whenever I want to. But I know I can't. So I took a mental picture of them. They look perfect against the dim light of the room. They're darker and mysterious, like they're hiding something. Maybe they are.

"What?" I whisper, but no sound comes out.

"I love you." My breath hitches and I feel a lump in my throat. I close my eyes again. I'm scared he would be able to read my mind just by looking at my eyes. I'm scared he can tell from looking at my eyes that I wish it was true, that maybe we can just throw our stupid made-up rules out the window, that I can just stop being scared of feeling this way about a guy I've known for only 3 weeks.

"I love you too." I don't know where that came from but realization dawns on me. It was my voice. My eyes fly open to see his reaction but his eyes are closed. A part of me is terrified that I've broken the spell between us.

"That would be the worst response to the worst thing I can say." He smiles and laughs a little. His face is telling a whole different story. I feel relieved, for some reason.

I grip my hands tighter on his shoulder. We're sitting but I feel like if I let go, I'm going to fall.

Finally, after what felt like hours of ragged breathing, he pulls away. I hesitate but he leans forward even more until his head is resting on my shoulder.

"What's our rule again? About no kissing?"

"We cant kiss."

"On the lips?"



I hesitate to answer. We never really covered the limits of the rule. "I don't -" but before I can finish my sentence, he pulls the sleeve of my over sized sweater down, until my right shoulder is bare. I shiver as he starts to plant light feathery kisses all over my shoulder. For a second, I became conscious of the freckles I have there, but he seems like he doesn't care.

I rest my head against his own shoulder. I feel faint and overwhelmed. His lips feel so good against my skin and I wonder how they would feel on my lips.

I remove my hands from his shoulders and wrap them around his waist, under his jacket. The heat emanating from his skin through his shirt feels good against my cold palms. He groans, whether from the action or the shock of my cold palms, I don't know.

He stops kissing my shoulders. He pulls my arms from under his jackets and holds my no-longer cold hands between his own. I watch our fingers as they lace with each other on their own, as if they know they're right where they belong.

"You don't know how bad I want to kiss you right now." His breathing is uneven. I look at him and he's looking at me with a look so intense, they could melt me into a puddle.

I want to tell him that I do. I do know how bad he wants to kiss me because I'm feeling the same way, and it hurts because this might be the last time we'll be seeing each other for a long time, or even forever.

He lets go of my hands. I seem to have lost control of them because they fall limply between us, like they're boneless. He laughs and I giggle. It's a pretty funny sight. "Look at what you do to me," I tell him.

"This is the worst way to say goodbye."

"I know." And I try, one more time. Even though my head's telling me that I shouldn't, and that it's best that we just move on. "Maybe we shouldn't."

He laughs. Not the response I wanted.

"Our three weeks are up."

"I know."

"You keep saying that."

"I don't know what else to say."

"The last three weeks were amazing."

"I don't even know you. At all." I look down, scared that a tear might escape from my eyes. "All I know is that you're smart, funny, you study a lot, you hang around the hospital even after midnight and that I really like you. A lot."

"I really like you too, red." He tilts my chin up with his forefinger and thumb and I am surprised to see the agony in his face. "You're beautiful, in every possible way a person can be beautiful. You deserve so much more than me." He pulls away, and I feel that he's not just pulling away from me, but from my life also.

"Do you know what I've been telling myself during the last three weeks?"

I shake my head.

"That we're just two people who met at the wrong time. The absolute worst time." He stands up and I want to reach out and pull him back.

"Hey, maybe we'll meet again. Someday. Maybe when I've sorted everything out in my life, maybe when you decide that I'm kind of okay." He smiles and I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see his smile. 

"I'm okay with you now."

"I'll think of you, red." He backs away slowly, keeping his green eyes locked on mine. I can't read them anymore. He's isn't close enough. He finally turns around and walks away. I realize he will never be around anymore to actually be close enough.

I should be okay with that. It's a train wreck waiting to happen.

But I'm not. I'm really not.


You now have my permission to laugh.


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