LOVE IN A BREATH (A Playboy's story)

LOVE IN A BREATH (A Playboy's story).

You remember that saying that everyone has an equal chance to love? I would not have subscribed to that theory if I came across it months back.

Why! Cause I am no good. I am a Playboy. I don't believe in love. I am a hardened Casanova.

I am all for the sex, the fun, the excitement, with no strings attached.

Christine had walked in in a way that smelt different, felt different, seemed different. She wasn't my spec. No, I mean, I had never envisioned going out with her, in a way that smelt like bridgerton romance.

Was it the perfume she wore, that accentuated the classroom with feminine charm? Was it her heels that brought her down-to-earth outfit up the ladder of admiration? Or was it her hair that fought for the spaces behind her brainy pair of glasses? Oh, or was it her smile that ushered in an abundant shower of laughter as she blushed at the class joke?

It wasn't until I had began to ponder on this that I felt a shift in my Medulla. For the first time in ages, I had wanted to be around a woman, to protect her, to kiss her, to make her feel special and priceless, to make her mine alone. At first, I couldn't understand the alterations and the osmosis that had been triggered in my resting heart. This was something out of the movies. Something that says Bollywood with a touch of Kdrama with Bridgerton toppings. 

I must be crazy. No, I am crazy, I thought to myself. I had dismissed my thoughts as mere imaginations. But I couldn't deny that somehow, somewhere in my heart, I have began to fantasize about her.

One weird thing about what was taking place within me was the fact that I was longing more and more to see her. And as weird as it might sound, I wanted her to notice me. I have always been the ladies man, nah Dem dey rush me. But somehow, just for today, I just wanted to be pure, chaste, and naive before her.

I jerked to reality when a soft feminine voice accompanied a gentle touch asking, "is anyone here?"

Mhmm.......... Was that............ Christine?

I wondered why I hadn't noticed her walking towards me before now, while I traced her caramel hand to the space she had inquired about. And without a second thought, I swept away the bag that lay there as I ushered her down. 

I wanted time to stop, to stay still, even if for an hour, and allow me savour this rare moment of our uncanny encounter. I admired her smile as she scrolled through her phone. I admired her frown as she wiped away the few balls of sweat that had clustered at her neck. I admired her laugh as she chuckled at a meme she stumbled upon on a guy's status. How lucky would her phone feel, that it gets to spend all day with her and be with her at every moment. I began to imagine how she looked like when she sleeps, as jealousy for her pillow filled my warmed up heart.

I spited the damn course rep as he announced that the class was cancelled. For me, it was like a time bomb had been ignited. I wanted to hold her, to take my chances, to stop her in her tracks, to prevent her from leaving, to be the Man, to kill my pride and introduce myself, or perhaps ask for her number, even when I knew that I had earlier rushed to the class group chat and saved it as Her Majesty.

But somehow, I wanted to believe that all these was just an irk in my amorous fantasies, even though I knew that my heart had began to pound at her laughter, and my ebony skin had grown goosebumps at every chance of her touch.

It was hard to relish this uncertainty. Was love giving me a chance? A chance to surrender? A chance to make amends? A chance to love and be loved? A chance to catch my love in a breath. 

Oh,

Christine,

What have you done to me?

I never wanted to meet someone who makes me lose my steeze. But now I've met you, what will be the price, to be loved by Her Majesty?

©TheProfWrites.