Hesitation

    We sat on a bench together, overlooking the water. She spoke to me as if disgusted by me; as if disgusted by having to talk to me... but stayed as though she had nowhere to go. She at least liked to give that impression.

    A scowl flickered on her face every time she was 'forced' to respond. Her left cheek rose and her brow lowered, coming together to tighten her face. She was sitting to my right.

    We weren't looking directly at each other but spoke over our shoulders. Her left cheek rose toward my side while I could tell her right laid flat. As if her right side saw that there was nowhere to go and kept her there, leaving her left to hesitate and doubt.

    When there was a long pause of silence I'd feel her curious glance, less angry, assuming I couldn't see her out from the corner of my eye. She was much more childlike now, with wider eyes, studying me. As soon as I'd make a slight move she'd abruptly turn away and prepare her scowl.

    She'd look to the ground, pretend she wanted to leave. Yet when I'd give her an escape… when I'd get up to go or make a closing remark, she'd always spark conversation again… then again act angry as if it were I who had forced her to stay… and I who had chosen the topic of conversation which now bored her terribly.

    I knew immediately that things weren't as they seemed. I smiled and shook my head. I too wrinkled my brow but kept my smile, more puzzled, like a dog with his head cocked to the side. I enjoyed that she was different. I enjoyed the challenge. I wasn't bored at all.

    I sat in silence, feeling her glance. I used the best of my ability to come up with a question that couldn't be answered with a single word. Somehow, she always defeated me.

    I let my right hand fall down to my side, purposely brushing hers yet as if only by chance. She quickly pulled hers away. She gently placed it back down… not on mine, but close. A knee-jerk reaction had taken it away but after consideration, knowing she had looked offended by something that was only a mistake, she placed it back down calmly as if nothing had happened. I could tell she wished she had left it there. I could tell she craved for her hand to touch mine, yet I knew that if I touched her again I'd only achieve the same reaction… only this time I wouldn't be able to claim innocence.

    We sat in silence. She couldn't figure out my smile.

    I could already read her so well.