WISHFUL THINKING – 2

Read Wishful Thinking – 1 HERE

Today, I’m not drinking any of my flavored teas, so there’s no fear that I’ll spill any on my blouse like last time. Today, I’m munching on hot puff-puff that I just made. Waiting for him to come home.

Last night he and I went salsa dancing. It was perfect. The DJ played all the right songs. And we were just about to have the perfect kiss when that over-eager girl and her partner bumped against us. I lurched forward and bumped into the wall. I can’t remember what happened after that, except I woke up on the cold, hard floor of my room.

You laugh and call me dreamer? Just wait till this dream comes true,and I, Tolulope Wright, will give you the I-told-you-so look I’ve been practicing for months now.

Anyway, this isn’t a dream anymore.

Last Friday, I was on my way out to the bank. I had taken a couple of days off to enable me recover from the flu. I got outside at the same time as he drove out of his gate.

Engine humming softly, he slowed down beside me.

“Good morning. Going my way? I’m headed to the Island.”

“G-G-Good morning.” My tongue chose the wrong time to be stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Yes. I mean, no. I have to stop s-s-somewhere on the way. I’d love to….. Thank you.”

“Oh, okay. Have a great day then.”

He drove off and I stopped for a few seconds to “recover” from the shock.

How could I survive being in the same car with him? Watching his hand grip the gear stick, whilst wishing it was gripping my knee…. Or seeing his fingers curled round the steering wheel and wanting them interlocked with mine…..Or I’d probably make an utter fool of myself by not being able to say a word or even worse saying too much and revealing my feelings about him….

But, then… he talked to me first!
That is progress!

Well, here I was at my French windows again, waiting for him to return. And when he did, there was that eye movement, a little up and to the left again. I’m sure he was looking up at my flat.

Hoping to see me perhaps? Well….

I couldn’t help noticing how the short sleeved embroidered grey tunic fit just right on his shoulders. My eyes outlined his thigh muscles underneath the trousers. My heart raced at the sight of him.
Should I wait for him to come upstairs or go down to meet him? I’ll wait for him at the door, then melt into his arms and nibble on his soft lips…softer than this puff-puff… He’ll run his hand through my hair and I will feel him smile as we kiss……

He turned his key in the lock and stepped inside.

Inside the house where he lived… with his wife.

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