Page 146 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
She made me a necklace? The only gifts I’ve ever gotten from a girl were at my birthday parties and that doesn’t count because everyone knows you can’t come to a party without a gift. And chances are their moms picked it out. I slide the necklace around my neck and she helps me tighten the leather fasteners on either side. I’m totally aware of her being so close and I can feel my goose bumps raising as her fingertips course my neck. I spin around and we’re face to face. I get lost in the hazel pools of her eyes. How does that saying go? Eyes are the window to the soul? If that’s true, I want to be lost with her forever.
“¡Gracias por todo!” I say in my best Argentinean accent.
Without giving it a second thought, I close my eyes and our lips meet for the first time. I can feel the blood rush to my lips and that familiar heat creeping up my body. My hands reach for her cheek and I feel her silky skin. I realize she’s smiling and so am I. Her mouth is so delicate, but she’s just grazing my lips and I want more. I reach my hand into her hair and behind her head and pull her in close. We open our mouths and our tongues dance the tango the way only true Argentineans know how. They circle and tease each other until we intertwine and lock into another sweet embrace, swirling and dancing perfectly in time. I know that I want more and I close the gap between us, wanting only to be together completely, I’m lost in the moment, when I hear . . .
“LUKE? LUKE! DUDE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”
Shit. Bobby.
How long have I been gone?
I kiss her again, open my eyes, and shout over my shoulder, “Hey man, I’m right by the pay phones on the side of the building I was just talking to my mom and dad.” I still have my arms around Sibylla and when I turn back around she’s still smiling.
“I need to go back inside.”
She responds by kissing me tenderly on the lips again and squeezing me so tight.
Before she lets go she whispers in my ear, “Esta ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida, mi amor.”
I’m dumbfounded. All I can utter in response is “Why me?”
&
nbsp; And with that, she hands me a piece of paper and turns around before running off.
Bobby finds me standing there with a face that screams dazed and confused. “Bro, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Or fallen in love with that mystery girl.”
Now it’s Bobby’s turn to look bewildered “What? She met you here? How did she know where you would be? Is she stalking you? That’s hot.”
“What? No! She works here, remember? She wasn’t working tonight and she obviously knows that we have a reservation at six-thirty every night. She holds all the reservations. She wanted to see me and she gave me this.” I show him the dream catcher she made me.
“You don’t strike me as a necklace guy,” he says with a grin.
“When in Rome . . . or Argentina. Whatever.” As we head back inside, I stuff the paper she gave me into my pocket. I keep thinking to myself, This isn’t me. I’m usually so logical and calculated, but being here, having this experience has changed something in me. I’m open to what life has to offer I’m going with the flow for the first time ever and it feels amazing.
Date: August 11
Materials: Stationery, flashlight
Experiment: An internal cognitive examination of a neurobiology cocktail of testosterone, estrogen, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin, and vasopressin and how they coalesce to formulate love potion number 9.
While everyone was preparing for the bonfire later tonight, I was in my tent with the note that has consumed my mind every second since it was placed in my hand.
Dear American Boy,
My sister is studying English in university and I begged her to help me write this letter to you. She finally gave in when I told her that if she didn’t I would tell our mom that her boyfriend sometimes sleeps over and leaves in the morning.
The last two days have been a roller coaster of emotions for me. When we first met, I knew that you were special, and that really scared and confused me. I didn’t know what I was feeling for a complete stranger that doesn’t even speak my language. I’ve always wondered how people knew that they had found the one. There are so many people in the world, and everyone has a different story, a different upbringing, and different goals, how would it be possible to find someone to love?
My mother told me once that the man of your dreams will take your breath away. When I look at you all my doubts melt away, I don’t need to know your story, I don’t care what’s happened, all I care about is spending time with you so we can write our own story. I know this sounds absolutely crazy because you are here for such a short time, but I wanted to be honest with my feelings. I know it’s hard to communicate at times but I needed you to know. If you feel even a bit of what I’m feeling, meet me at the beach tonight at midnight by the big stone, then I’ll know for sure if you feel the same!
Con Amor,
Sibylla
I reread the letter half a dozen more times taking it all in. Killing time for the next three hours is going to be a testament to the old saying, “Patience is a virtue.”
