u s e y o u r h a n d s

Ok, so you remember how I told you I was going to the track yesterday? well, I went. And I ate potato salad. And now I’m totally puking. Word. But I’m still going to continue the story, dogg.

Cliff took the papers from her and tossed them futilely onto the desk. The papers seemed intent to defy him, slipping again to the ground. She snorted as tried to suppress a giggle. He looked at her reproachfully, but she seemed so thoroughly delighted that his face softened immediately.

She smoothed her dress and extended her hand. “I’m sorry to meet you like this, but at least it’s memorable.” Her hand was cupped gently and looked so smooth. Cliff stared at her hand and wondered if his cold, rough one would shred her hand if he took it. The odds seemed against it. He extended his own and she took it. There was not much movement in the handshake, but she took his hand in both of hers. Suddenly, his other hand felt like ice. It occurred to him that perhaps he had forgotten that such heat existed, but actually, he had never known it.

“Cliff,” he muttered.

Her eyes twinkled as if they were laughing. “I know. I’ve seen you here and there for some months. I’m Bethany, from down the hall.” She released his hand. Instead of searching for words, he savored the sensation of heat leaving his hand and into the air. Physics in a handshake; entropy in a greeting.

“Is there something – ? Can I – ?” he muttered to her shoes. Cliff didn’t feel nervous so much as curious.

She waved away his question. “No, actually, I think I found something of yours. Well, no – that’s inaccurate. I have indeed found something of yours.” Bethany reached into her pocket and produced his folded piece of paper. The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Cliff took the paper from her and stuffed it deep into his pocket.

“Oh.” Though his eyes hadn’t met hers as she spoke, he removed his gaze from even her shoes. A strange sea of emotion swirled around him. The swirling itself was odd, but he was unprepared for all of these complex feelings.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?” Bethany asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He had never shared a table with a woman, never thought to invite one out, had never been asked. But every part of him immediately wanted to look at her while she chewed, to see how she held a fork, a napkin in her lap.

He shook his head up and down. She smiled broadly and clasped her hands together. The speed of her movement sent a faint waft of perfume his way. “All right, Cliff. How about in an hour, then? I can’t bear to stay past five. Would that work for you?”

His spine stood a little straighter in the wake of her ease and he cleared his throat to speak. “Certainly,” he said clearly. He wanted to bow but did not.

“Fabulous,” said Bethany. And then she was gone.