changed her mind before walking out of the room and gave another small spritz onto one wrist and rubbed it against the other.
She slipped into her clogs and grabbed her bag and keys. One last excited, “Yippee,” escaped from her lips as she shut the door and locked it.
The walk to Westly’s dorm was not far but it was already colder out, and she walked quickly to keep from freezing in her light coat. With a deep breath she stepped into the elevator in his building and was on her way up. Abby found the door with the room number he had told her and paused for a moment taking a deep breathe before knocking. It wasn’t hard to put a smile on her face when he answered; he was smiling and looked great.
Her stomach swam with butterflies as in one swoop his arms were around her waist and she was in the air, off the ground and the door was shutting behind her. He didn’t wait for her to say hi before he began kissing her. A deep, long kiss that made her melt inside. He put her back on the ground gently and took her hands into his own.
“You’re five minutes early,” he said and softly kissed her hand, looking into her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry is that bad?”
“No I’m glad. I was tired of waiting. Please sit,” In one smooth motion he pulled out a rolling chair. “I have to get our dinner from the kitchen.”
“What kitchen?”
“The one down the hall, I couldn’t cook in my room very well with just a microwave,” he said smiling. “I’ll be right back.” With a kiss on her forehead, he was gone.
She turned slowly and looked around the room. Westly had put a card table up with two chairs across from each other. The plates were purple plastic and there were candles and three purple roses in the middle of the table. She was shocked he had done all this just for her. Looking around the room she saw a cluster of black and whites photos and a couple movie posters on the walls. Westly’s bookshelf was overstuffed with old books and textbooks. Westly had so many there was an overflowing pile of books on the floor beside his desk. A large CD rack sat in another corner, also stuffed, with a pile of more beside it and another pile next to his radio. His computer desk had two computers on it. Her eyes traveled back to the cluster of photos hanging together. The black and white style gave them an old-fashioned feel, like they had been passed down over the generations to him. The largest of them, a city skyline, made it clear that they were not very old at all.
The door opened, and he was pushing a small cart in the room. It smelled absolutely wonderful!
“Now I’ll warn you I’m not a great cook, but spaghetti is kind of easy.”
“Smells great, thank you.”
Westly turned on the CD player, keeping the volume low. It was a song she had never heard before. He sat across from her after he filled their plates.
After a few minutes of silence, Abby spoke while twirling her fork around in the spaghetti, “I was looking at your black and white pictures, where did you get them?”
“I took them actually, in New York City a few years ago. You like them?”
“They look so old, I love them.”
Westly told her about a weekend trip he had taken into the city; he had gotten no sleep the first night. He explained that he was in awe of how the city was at night; it just came to life in a totally different way then in comparison to the hustle and bustle of the city in the daytime. Abby ate while he talked about the rest of the sleepless weekend. The next night he took his camera with him and looked through its lens almost all night long. Westly told stories of the people and things he saw. He pointed to each picture as he told its story. Abby said nothing and let herself fall into the sound of his voice. He had a way of speaking that brought her right there beside him while he took the photo. She could see beyond the edges of the frames, everything else around them. At times she almost felt like she was looking at the
She slipped into her clogs and grabbed her bag and keys. One last excited, “Yippee,” escaped from her lips as she shut the door and locked it.
The walk to Westly’s dorm was not far but it was already colder out, and she walked quickly to keep from freezing in her light coat. With a deep breath she stepped into the elevator in his building and was on her way up. Abby found the door with the room number he had told her and paused for a moment taking a deep breathe before knocking. It wasn’t hard to put a smile on her face when he answered; he was smiling and looked great.
Her stomach swam with butterflies as in one swoop his arms were around her waist and she was in the air, off the ground and the door was shutting behind her. He didn’t wait for her to say hi before he began kissing her. A deep, long kiss that made her melt inside. He put her back on the ground gently and took her hands into his own.
“You’re five minutes early,” he said and softly kissed her hand, looking into her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry is that bad?”
“No I’m glad. I was tired of waiting. Please sit,” In one smooth motion he pulled out a rolling chair. “I have to get our dinner from the kitchen.”
“What kitchen?”
“The one down the hall, I couldn’t cook in my room very well with just a microwave,” he said smiling. “I’ll be right back.” With a kiss on her forehead, he was gone.
She turned slowly and looked around the room. Westly had put a card table up with two chairs across from each other. The plates were purple plastic and there were candles and three purple roses in the middle of the table. She was shocked he had done all this just for her. Looking around the room she saw a cluster of black and whites photos and a couple movie posters on the walls. Westly’s bookshelf was overstuffed with old books and textbooks. Westly had so many there was an overflowing pile of books on the floor beside his desk. A large CD rack sat in another corner, also stuffed, with a pile of more beside it and another pile next to his radio. His computer desk had two computers on it. Her eyes traveled back to the cluster of photos hanging together. The black and white style gave them an old-fashioned feel, like they had been passed down over the generations to him. The largest of them, a city skyline, made it clear that they were not very old at all.
The door opened, and he was pushing a small cart in the room. It smelled absolutely wonderful!
“Now I’ll warn you I’m not a great cook, but spaghetti is kind of easy.”
“Smells great, thank you.”
Westly turned on the CD player, keeping the volume low. It was a song she had never heard before. He sat across from her after he filled their plates.
After a few minutes of silence, Abby spoke while twirling her fork around in the spaghetti, “I was looking at your black and white pictures, where did you get them?”
“I took them actually, in New York City a few years ago. You like them?”
“They look so old, I love them.”
Westly told her about a weekend trip he had taken into the city; he had gotten no sleep the first night. He explained that he was in awe of how the city was at night; it just came to life in a totally different way then in comparison to the hustle and bustle of the city in the daytime. Abby ate while he talked about the rest of the sleepless weekend. The next night he took his camera with him and looked through its lens almost all night long. Westly told stories of the people and things he saw. He pointed to each picture as he told its story. Abby said nothing and let herself fall into the sound of his voice. He had a way of speaking that brought her right there beside him while he took the photo. She could see beyond the edges of the frames, everything else around them. At times she almost felt like she was looking at the
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