Encounters

I.

The others have a smoke outside and then we go back into the bandroom.

____ comes up beside me, holding out his beer. I take a sip.

Pretty good! I say.

Do you like beer? He asks.

Not at all, I say.

He laughs. You didn’t have to drink it, you know!

II.

There was a short interim and we went into the main bookstore. I watched him, head tilted, scanning the titles on the shelves, fingers gently brushing spines. He eventually picked one and pulled it out from amidst its company: The Chosen One. The One that stood out, a book with a bright orange cover that was in fact the same colour as my blouse, and I wondered if I stood out too.

He walked to the counter and paid for the book and then wandered back to where I was and smiled. A row of strong teeth beaming at me.

What did you get? I asked.

He showed me the book and explained why he had chosen it. I was acutely aware of his body and how he was so actualised in it.

At the end of the class, he got up to leave. I sensed a slight lingering, a purposeful fumbling with the coat. A tension within him, a push-pull, something unspoken.

I leaned in. It was so nice to meet you, I said.

Sorry, what? He looked up.

The moment had been ruined. I had to repeat myself and the impact wasn't the same.

It was so nice to meet you, I said again.

He smiled and shook my hand. It was nice to meet you too, he said. But he was already turning to leave.

III.

Come upstairs. He extends a hand flamboyantly, as if asking me to dance. It’s amazing up there.

I take it, and he spins me around.

We make our way upstairs, pushing through the throb of people to the back of the room. It is cold at the table.

He sits next to me, an open body tilted at an angle intended to unlock a conversation.

I stare into those green marble eyes and I feel like I am looking all the way down.

IV.

We are walking down the street to the venue and I feel a wave of anxiety rising in me. An unsettling paranoia. I start shivering inside.

____ turns back to look at me. How are you travelling?

I don’t know why but I’m feeling really anxious, I say.

He slows down to fall in step with me.

Don’t worry, he says. Sometimes I feel it too. He puts his arm around me. But nothing bad is going to happen to you, at least not while I’m around.