Conversations ✔

In her head.

"Question." She piped up.

"Mhm?" He turned to her, curious.

She parted her lips slightly, the words almost spilling, a second before she realised...

"You're rubbing off on me! This whole...question...thing, right before asking a question. That's your thing!" She exclaimed, almost annoyed by the truth of it all.

He was indeed rubbing off on her. She knew it more than he did, but they both knew it.

"Ah, great!" He grinned pleasingly. Not to the woman carefully watching that her transport won't leave her behind, pleasingly to himself. As if triumphant.

She playfully smacked his arm, causing him to let out a fit of the laughter she so enjoyed hearing.

She pointed a few metres away from where they now stood, "I think that's my transport. Anyway, since I made a wrong assumption about your native tribe earlier. Pray tell, what is the correct one?" She looked at him, really looked at him, just like she always tries to when her face doesn't flush red at the sight of him.

"Uhm...I'm going to give you two guesses. Try." He said, playful as ever.

She could see the smile he hid behind the serious features he now wore. He often did this, she realised. Amusement was probably all he felt around her. Was she amusing?

She made the first guess, tongue slipping and saying something she was not thinking. And he denied, making her realise her mistake.

"No! Not that! That's not what I wanted to say!" She said shaking her head no, her face looking as confused as ever.

"Okay, okay." He gave her a chance to breathe, a rarity among them.

She often found herself jumbling words, trying to form a coherent sentence. And it was always to his amusement. Always smiling, laughing, grinning...and making bad jokes.

His laugh...

She made her second chance first guess, which she got wrong. Again. Then made the second guess without missing a heartbeat. Without any doubt.

She was one to generalise, noting how everyone hates being put in a group yet still live up to that stereotype they so hate.

She was shamelessly grouping people according to area of residence, language, tribe, star sign and so forth.

He fell nowhere near the tribes she so confidently named, but she knew, deep somewhere inside, that there was no way any other tribe could make her feel the things she did. That was the stereotype she put him in.

"Ahhhhh, damn it! You got it. You guessed it right." He said snapping his fingers at his sarcastic disappointment.

She wanted to know, why act disappointed? What did he want to do if she guessed both of them wrong?

She wanted to ask, but her only way home was now getting impatient. And a car bell was heard.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She giggled at his playfulness and walked to the car, never daring to look behind. She would definitely find something else to say if she did. Because it was just like that with them, conversations upon conversations.

"Alright, see you tomorrow." He said, walking away to find his own.

He said something else, she was sure he did. But she heard none of it, also still fearing to look back.

And in her mind, late at night, in her bed, the conversation continued.

There was no transport waiting for her. There was no time stopping their conversations. There was just him in front of her. Standing between her legs, as she so manier times imagined.