[I get to change symbols at fifty. And yes, I had to look at wikipedia for that tidbit of information. Short section, but I didn't want to combine this with what's coming next. Happy Thursday.]
Maybe it was a good thing we didn't make it too far into the tournament. Playing soccer in a snow storm doesn't bother me (had to dig the peacoat out of the closet, finally) but we were more or less starting the downside slide of the semester. Couple more weeks until Thanksgiving, and after that it was a short foray into December and then finals would come up hard and fast.
Also between now and then would be my twentieth birthday.
So, considering all of that, it was probably a damn good thing we were knocked out by penalty kicks by Ithaca the following weekend. It freed up a lot more time. Time I should have spent doing back physics work and orgo practice problems. Time I spent doing anything but.
Except maybe driving myself absolutely batshit crazy with back homework.
Like I was trying to do on a Tuesday night. Finally had to say screw it and move onto T-S Britain from chem. Then again, having at least two hundred pages to read in one book alone (reading that was due three weeks ago) made the task rather daunting. Not to mention we were supposed to get a few inches of snow overnight.
My phone vibrated against the bed frame. Text from Izzy. Moulin rouge is on vh1. *squeeee*
Squee I did. Almost went headfirst off the bed trying to get the remote and was very grateful to find it had really only just started. Score.
Needless to say whatever focus I had left took a swan dive from the fourth floor to the sounds of beauty, truth, and love. And the sight of a green fairy shaking her ass.
I have up on anything academic two verses into One Day I'll Fly Away. The knock on the door came shortly thereafter. "Yeah?"
Murph poked his head in. "Hi."
"Hi." Motioned him in. My favorite part was coming up. "Whatcha doin'?"
He propped a hip against the bed, looking between me and the screen. "Wonderin' why my girlfriend hadn't answered when I saw her light was on."
"Oh." Checked my phone. Four new messages. "Sorry." I uncurled enough to sit up and drop a leg on either side of him. "I tried doing work, got a text from Izzy that Moulin Rouge was on - love this movie - and said to hell with it about an hour ago. Sorry."
"No, not it's fine." He turned to look at me straight on. "I just...Wanted to see if we were still on for dinner tomorrow at the Pub. And how you feel about last Saturday."
Or rather, how being knocked out of the NCAA tournament so early was sitting.
He bent to kiss my nose. "And - "
"And again? How many more are you gonna pull out?" I giggled.
"Funny," he grinned. "And - " He drew it out for effect, "You have a birthday coming up."
I did. November 22, actually. Five days from now. "You're planning something, aren't you?"
Murph smiled coyly; butterflies erupted low in my belly. "Maybe." He planted his hands on either side of my hips, leaning in and brushing his cheek against mine. He hadn't shaved this morning. "Can't tell you all my secrets." He pulled back to look at me. "Just some."
"Uh huh." My brain was goo. And there was a new sensation in my gut that was downright terrifying.
"I actually need to go do homework, so I will leave you to your movie." He kissed me gently. "See you tomorrow."
I squeezed his sides with my knees. "Yup. Seven?"
"Definitely." He hesitated on his way to the door, almost like he was going to say something. It was on the edge of my tongue, and after an awkward silence, he cracked a smile and said, very softly, "Bye, Ol."
Did that make us both cowards, that we couldn't say two words that were almost right there? Or maybe...Maybe it wasn't time yet. I lay on my belly, eyes on the screen and mouthing the words with Christian: like I've never seen the sky before/Want to vanish inside your kiss/Every day I love you more and more.
Come what may indeed.