The Wait

It was 7 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, and Sam was running late for the interview. The weather was cold and wet; it had rained earlier. Sam rushed towards the bus stop. The bus hadn't arrived yet. He was looking at his watch, at his phone, shaking his legs—doing everything to distract himself from the nervousness. Then he heard the footsteps behind him. He looked back, and there she was.

Lia. Her hair was wobbly, and you could clearly see the subtle makeup on her face. She looked fresh in a white floral t-shirt and sweatpants. She had a headphone over her ears, and her lips were moving, probably to the music she was listening to. She had a band strapped to her wrist with a weird doodle. Sam noticed everything. How wrinkled her clothes were, how messy her hair was, how she smiled, how she tapped her feet to the beat of the music, what color the laces were on her shoes—everything. "Beautiful," he thought to himself.

He couldn't take his gaze away from her. She had already taken away his heart, yet he didn't know. He felt something but couldn't make anything of it. It was new and surprising. Now that he didn't care about the interview, the worry on his face faded away slowly. He wanted to talk, but he wondered if she'd think of him as some weirdo or creep. "If not now, it's never," he said to himself and slowly went to where she was sitting.

"Hey, it's cold, isn't it?" He whispered, but she didn't respond. He thought she'd surely think of him as one of those guys. "Sorry," she said, taking off the headphones. His muffled voice had gone lost in her loud music. "The weather, it's kinda cold", he said. She nodded. He had nothing in his mind to keep the conversation going. She was about to put her headphones on, and he said, "You must be cold in that t-shirt!" "Here, take my jacket." She gestured that she didn't need it, but he insisted and handed the jacket over.

She glanced at him. He looked good. Brown eyes, dark hair, a round face, and clothes that were freshly ironed—he looked as if he was heading to a party. "Thank you," she said. "I'm Lia," she added. "Uh, I'm Sam," he replied.

"Where are you headed this early?" she asked.

"I have an interview at 9:30," he lied. His interview was scheduled for 8:15. "What about you?" he said.

"Visiting my friend," she replied.

She tied her hair properly as they were talking. He adjusted his sleeves. They looked at each other and gently smiled.

"Are you nervous?" she inquired.

"Not so much," he replied. Why would he be? The interview was the last thing on his mind. The only thing he was thinking about was her.

"What? You look nervous," she said, blinking in surprise.

There was something unusual about him. She could tell he was nervous through his eyes, yet he claimed otherwise. He had mild satisfaction on his face as if he had already passed his biggest test. the test of talking to her.

"Well, I'm trying not to think about it," he said and looked at his watch. It was already half past seven, and his bus could arrive anytime. That made him nervous. She was about to say something when the bus arrived. He was about to get up when he realized she was still sitting calmly.

"Bus?" he asked.

"No, I'm taking the direct route." "I can't bear the hassle of changing vehicles midway," she said, sounding tired.

He thought for a while, and he too didn't get on the bus.

"What are you doing?" He heard a voice within himself. He knew exactly what he was doing. He didn't want to be anywhere else. He ignored his consciousness.

"So what do you do?" he asked.

"I'm a housewife," she replied.

"Sounds cool," he said. He wasn't listening to her. He was lost in her eyes, following wherever her voice would lead him.

"W-H-A-T?" He realized what she said. He didn't know what happened. He never expected her to say that. He didn't know what to say. He was just staring at her when his gaze shifted to her hands. "But you don't have a ring," he inquired, perplexed.

"You should've seen the look on your face," she laughed. "I'm kidding," she said, adding, "Do I look that old to you?"

He chuckled. He knew she had him. He tried to laugh with her, but his heart was beating too fast for him to act calm. "Ha! You had me there for a while," he grumbled.

"You weren't even paying attention to what I was saying," she said.

He smiled. "Thinking about the interview", he lied again. The only interview he was thinking of was the one currently happening.

"So, what do you like?" she continued the conversation. She wanted to know more about him too.

"You". He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. "Everything," he said instead. He meant everything about her. He didn't know if she understood what he implied, but he hoped that she did.

"What do you like, Ms. Housewife?" he asked while teasing her.

She smiled. She felt good when he called her that. "Haha, stop," she said, blushing. She touched the curls that covered her eyes and placed them over her ears. She raised her eyes and looked at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. "Um, just," he couldn't finish the sentence. His mind kept playing that moment over and over. 

"You're weird," she said. "But in a good, charming way," she added.

"I'll take that as a compliment." "Thanks," he said confusingly. He was glad that she seemed to like him. 

"Is there any special reason you're visiting your friend?" he asked this time.

"Nothing special. We haven't seen each other in a long time," she explained.

"Must be a very good friend," he inquired. He also wanted to be her friend. Maybe he already was, but he didn't know. They had just met. But it felt like they already knew each other.

"So can I..." His question got cut off by the horn of the bus. She got up, handed him his jacket, and thanked him again. She was about to step into the bus but suddenly she stopped. She got off, walked up to him, leaned in, and as she was about to kiss him, the alarm rang. It was 7 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, and Sam was running late for the interview...