First Love

The lights were dim. Most people were asleep or had blocked themselves out from the others, wearing big, clunky headphones over their ears. Right now, it was just the two of them. She was sitting on the seat close to the window. His head was in her lap. The bus trudged along. Smooth.

Blasts of air shooting out, humming peacefully from the vents. She was stroking his hair. His heart was somehow simultaneously at peace, and beating very fast. The dimmer lights made for poor visibility and the lights strewn across the highway weren’t any help. But it didn’t matter. Her auburn hair was hanging like a curtain from her face. It didn’t matter. Because he could trace every centimeter of her face, and he was in love with all of it. She had that perfume on. The one that when he would smell later would bring a sense of nostalgia. He heard a wrapper being unfolded on a seat nearby. And some crunching. With one hand, she was stroking his hair. He was holding her other. It felt so small in his. And yet, felt like it fit perfectly.

The bus trudged along. It was the first conference, he wouldn’t be interested in attending any after. 

He looked at her lovingly, sighed in peace, and closed his eyes. “I have to tell you something.” He opened them and looked at her. She wasn’t looking at him.

“Remember when I told you I was going to smoke up with him.” And I asked you not to do it. I wouldn’t tell you to do or not to do something. Because you know, I love you. And respect you.

“Yeah?” He said. Still clueless.

She looked at him. Her voice did not shake. “Well, we got high. And somehow his lips were on me. And I was taking off his clothes. We were kissing. We didn’t go any farther. I promise. When I realized what was happening, I stopped. Told him to stop. Kicked him out.”

Silence. The humming seemed to grow louder. The bus seemed to shrink. For a second, everything was still. It felt like a second. His world was frozen. It felt like a second. It was probably longer. Much longer. He realized that only when he saw her looking at him, and her face had changed. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said wearily. What did she want from him? The insecurities wouldn’t come rushing back in. Much later, much much later, he would be very glad of that. The insecurities would not come rushing back in. She had at least helped shoo them away. And even what she did or didn’t do wouldn’t bring them back.

Her face had changed. There was anger. What did she want from him? “I’ll message him. Like who does he thin-“

“No, you have to promise me you won’t message him.” Her face wasn’t angry any more. Did she want him to fight the other guy. He would wonder for months later. For now, she kissed him. The bus trudged on.