of him, I asked something I thought he would.
“If you could choose any kind of life for yourself, right now, what would it be?”
She thought for a second and did a couple false starts of half-a-syllable before stopping to think some more. Finally she said, “I would like to be a professional singer.”
She seemed too nice and “girly” to be wielding swords and magical armor that had the potential to devastate cities … not that ripping countrysides a new-one wasn’t feminine, but she would be an amazing performer, nevertheless. She had everything she needed: talent, looks, personality. Considering the number of singers in the world, I thought it was a little odd that someone with such fantastic abilities would choose a life considered so ordinary in comparison. There are girls everywhere who would give anything to be so independent and powerful. I suppose she wasn’t that different from any “normal” person. We all seem to want what we can’t have. I was the poster child.
I would never forget her face when I watched her sing back in our stolen GTO. I’ve caught myself staring when she hums to herself while training up on the sports balcony of the Harbor House. It makes me feel all warm and stupid on the inside, but then again her reading a phone book would do the same thing. So, I wouldn’t exactly call myself “unbiased.” Nevertheless, there seems to be a place of satisfaction one finds in that thing that lets you-be-you, and I could see how music could be that for her.
Why didn’t she just do it? From what I could tell there was nothing keeping her with us. She, Kata, Sway, and Largo all seemed to be filthy rich, so money wasn’t an issue. I considered asking about what held her back from chasing her dream, or what had driven her to take up with Largo and the Party Elves, but that would lead the conversation back into some striking range of her past with Cade and the Street Vipers. The only time she gets snippy is when it looks like that subject might be broached. She had a defensive wall around the topic bigger than what fell at Jericho. No matter how many times I walked around it, there would be no crumbling that one anytime soon.
I should have known the question would get turned back on me. Asking me about the future is like asking a blind man, which I suppose biologically I was, to read sign language from across the street. I didn’t have a grasp on the present yet, much less on what I wanted to be when I “grow up.”
I gave her my best sexy-man-brow-lift with my answer, “I think I would make a good, Singer’s-Boyfriend.”
It was cheesy. But cheese is an important part of every diet. It adds calcium, nutrients … and it makes the girlies swoon. So I’m told.
Actually, I was doing that “wussy thing” guys do when we’re too chicken to actually ask a girl out. We fish to see how they feel before we make our move. It’s part of a natural anti-rejection barrier we erect early in life. I blame the middle school dance scene. I had one too many “no’s,” and don’t even get me started about when Sadie Hawkins rolled her sadist ass into town.
What was I afraid of? Why not tell her how I feel? We talk every day. We spend as much time as we can together. I’m mostly sure she feels the same. She could have been anywhere else , but she was with me.
I know the answer: I was afraid of her reply.
Surprisingly she gave an answer to my little query, and I really wasn’t expecting what happened next.
BOOM!
Maeve tilted her head close to mine. My eyes burned brighter with flourishing expectation. Her Celtic radiance pierced my soul with untold promises of fire and song. “I think you would too.” She said hooking on to my “boyfriend” bait. She paused, and then moved even closer before finally landing a perfect pink-glossed kiss on my own trembling lips.
What do you do when
“If you could choose any kind of life for yourself, right now, what would it be?”
She thought for a second and did a couple false starts of half-a-syllable before stopping to think some more. Finally she said, “I would like to be a professional singer.”
She seemed too nice and “girly” to be wielding swords and magical armor that had the potential to devastate cities … not that ripping countrysides a new-one wasn’t feminine, but she would be an amazing performer, nevertheless. She had everything she needed: talent, looks, personality. Considering the number of singers in the world, I thought it was a little odd that someone with such fantastic abilities would choose a life considered so ordinary in comparison. There are girls everywhere who would give anything to be so independent and powerful. I suppose she wasn’t that different from any “normal” person. We all seem to want what we can’t have. I was the poster child.
I would never forget her face when I watched her sing back in our stolen GTO. I’ve caught myself staring when she hums to herself while training up on the sports balcony of the Harbor House. It makes me feel all warm and stupid on the inside, but then again her reading a phone book would do the same thing. So, I wouldn’t exactly call myself “unbiased.” Nevertheless, there seems to be a place of satisfaction one finds in that thing that lets you-be-you, and I could see how music could be that for her.
Why didn’t she just do it? From what I could tell there was nothing keeping her with us. She, Kata, Sway, and Largo all seemed to be filthy rich, so money wasn’t an issue. I considered asking about what held her back from chasing her dream, or what had driven her to take up with Largo and the Party Elves, but that would lead the conversation back into some striking range of her past with Cade and the Street Vipers. The only time she gets snippy is when it looks like that subject might be broached. She had a defensive wall around the topic bigger than what fell at Jericho. No matter how many times I walked around it, there would be no crumbling that one anytime soon.
I should have known the question would get turned back on me. Asking me about the future is like asking a blind man, which I suppose biologically I was, to read sign language from across the street. I didn’t have a grasp on the present yet, much less on what I wanted to be when I “grow up.”
I gave her my best sexy-man-brow-lift with my answer, “I think I would make a good, Singer’s-Boyfriend.”
It was cheesy. But cheese is an important part of every diet. It adds calcium, nutrients … and it makes the girlies swoon. So I’m told.
Actually, I was doing that “wussy thing” guys do when we’re too chicken to actually ask a girl out. We fish to see how they feel before we make our move. It’s part of a natural anti-rejection barrier we erect early in life. I blame the middle school dance scene. I had one too many “no’s,” and don’t even get me started about when Sadie Hawkins rolled her sadist ass into town.
What was I afraid of? Why not tell her how I feel? We talk every day. We spend as much time as we can together. I’m mostly sure she feels the same. She could have been anywhere else , but she was with me.
I know the answer: I was afraid of her reply.
Surprisingly she gave an answer to my little query, and I really wasn’t expecting what happened next.
BOOM!
Maeve tilted her head close to mine. My eyes burned brighter with flourishing expectation. Her Celtic radiance pierced my soul with untold promises of fire and song. “I think you would too.” She said hooking on to my “boyfriend” bait. She paused, and then moved even closer before finally landing a perfect pink-glossed kiss on my own trembling lips.
What do you do when
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