A knock on the door made Reilly start, separating him from his thoughts and bringing him back into the moment. He set his notebook down and went to the door. The girl standing there was gorgeous. “Hi, Reilly,” she said simply as she stepped into the apartment. “Can I start my homework now?”
“Uh. . . hi, Misty.” He punished himself inwardly. He’d forgotten she was coming over to use his computer for some class projects. He quickly glanced around his living room to make sure it was clean. There were some books and a few glasses scattered around the room, but at least there weren’t any clothes. “It’s in my room. This way.”
Reilly led the way down the hall to his bedroom, shutting doors as he went and making sure the bed was made before she came in. Then he pulled out the chair and offered her a seat.
He sat in the recliner near his computer and gazed at the girl in his living room for several long moments. Her dark hair fell in slight curls and waves until it spilled over her shoulders. That was about all he could see, because she was facing the computer screen with her back toward him. How cool is this? he thought to himself, gazing admiringly at the head of hair.
Suddenly she turned to face him. Reilly quickly turned his gaze back to the papers in his hands, hoping she didn’t notice he was–staring.
“You were a literature major, right?” she asked him.
“Uh… yah,…” he muttered. “Er… Yes, I was.” Why was he so awkward? This girl was barely twenty years old. He was at least seven years older than her.
“Listen to what this guy has to say about Ben Jonson . . .” She read something absurd one of her classmates had posted about Shakespeare’s contemporary. Reilly listened with interest, more fascinated by her voice than what she actually had to say. She laughed when she finished, “Isn’t that ridiculous?”
Reilly let her laughter flow over him like a refreshing breeze. “Yeah, pretty funny, Misty.”
And that was another thing: her name was Misty. Who’s named Misty? It’s what you called your pet mouse, or a cat at best. It wasn’t a name for someone you fell in love with.
Misty turned back to the computer. “Sorry for interrupting,” she said. “I know you’re busy, and I’ve got to get through this for class.”
Reilly couldn’t figure out why he was so fascinated by this girl. Sure she was brilliant and had a pretty face and (let’s admit it) a great figure, but she was also very young, and couldn’t possibly be interested in a college drop out trying to break into comic book self publishing. Take it for what it really is, he told himself every time she came over. A girl who came over because you have a computer and she needs to read the news group for her class.
All the same, he always found an excuse to be in the recliner while she worked on the computer so he could look at her. Today he had brought some pictures of characters his partner had drawn, and Reilly was supposed to be making suggestions for changes. In practice, he was mostly waiting to hear her laugh again. He loved listening to Misty’s laughter; it sounded as if the laughter hid something from him. Something very important.
Sometimes he would try to figure out how he could include her in a story. He thought of classic Greek beauty, but she was too modest. Next he’d try the magnificence of Victorian nobility, but she was too unpretentious for that. Truth was, Reilly wasn’t quite sure how to describe Misty. She was an enigma, and that only added to the fascination.
Suddenly Misty leaned back in her chair and stretched, showing her figure, entrancing Reilly in a magic spell. “Well,” she started slowly as she glanced back at the computer screen. “I guess I’m done. I’ll get out of your hair now. You’re probably tired of that college girl who keeps coming around and wasting your time.”
“No!” Reilly said, far too quickly for his own judgment. “I mean, it’s no bother. Always willing to help,” he tried to clarify. Especially for you, he thought but didn’t have the nerve to say out loud.
“Oh,” Misty said. She stood in thought for just a moment, and an odd look of surprise crept across her face. Then she smiled. “I hate to intrude further, but if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to read my e-mail too. Is that ok?”
“Yeah,” Reilly managed to blurt out. Anything to see that smile again.
As if reading his thoughts, she rewarded him with another grin. “Thanks!” She sat back down and began to type again.
Inwardly celebrating, Reilly sat back down and began to pretend to look over the artwork again. He was thinking about her again, though, and didn’t pay attention to the papers in his lap. Well, I got her to stay a little while longer, he thought. Not that I’m doing anything about it. Not that I’m even sure I should do anything about it. Geez, why do I keep thinking about her this way?
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that Misty wasn’t paying much attention to the computer screen, but kept looking over at him with a thoughtful expression.
“Well,” Misty started after half an hour. “I really should go,” she said slowly as she rose from the chair.
Reilly quickly stood as he noticed her rise, and although he didn’t know it, the gesture wasn’t lost on her. “Well, ok,” he said awkwardly.
“Yeah,” Misty responded, and she hesitantly started to head for the door. Reilly started to follow, and when they reached the entrance, she turned around. “Oh, hey. What happened with that comic book you showed me?”
“You mean the adaptation of those rock songs?” Reilly asked. “You remember that?”
“Yeah, I really liked it. What did the guy you were sending it to say?”
“Oh, well, he called once to ask me something. The distributor’s still thinking about it, but I’m not sure it’s something I’m keeping my hopes up about.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Misty said. “I liked it. It was interesting.” As she spoke she absent-mindedly reached forward and held the pendant Reilly wore around his neck. “Let me know how it turns out.” She read the pendant aloud, “‘I am a child of God.’ Nice thought.” She let go of the pendent and softly drew her fingers across Reilly’s chest before pulling her hand back.
Reilly sighed. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but he knew it wouldn’t work, so he told her. “Look, you don’t want to do this. You wouldn’t be interested in me when you got to know me. So you might want to just go home.”
Misty looked him in the eyes, hurt and a little lost. They were both silent for a moment. “Bold words. But you’re wrong,” Misty finally said.
Reilly felt a deep disappointment that he was sure could be seen on his face. There went all hope he had of getting close to her.
“Look,” Misty patted him softly on the front of his shoulder. “Are you interested in me?”
He hesitated for a long moment and looked down at his feet, wanting to tell her but afraid to. “Well, . . . yeah.” He finally answered.
“So why do you think that you can be interested in me, but you can still tell me that I can’t be interested in you?”
“Well, that’s not what I meant . . .” Reilly searched for what to say. “I mean, . . . I, it’s just that . . .”
“Look,” she told him as she put her hand on his neck and made him look at her. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I’m interested in?”
“Well,” Reilly tried to look away but Misty forced him to see her eyes. They were a gorgeous green, a color he couldn’t quite describe to anyone, especially after that moment. “I guess that’s fair,” he finally mumbled.
“You’ve got a lot to learn,” Misty told him as she pulled his face down the few inches that separated their faces and kissed him gently on the lips. Her soft lips pressed against his, opening slightly. He could taste the sweetness of her breath, savoring the promise it held. Lost in this newfound rapture, his head began to spin.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly, and then she walked out the door, closing it behind her.
Reilly stood in place for a few moments, trying to figure out what had just happened. Then a grin crept across his face and grew until it filled the space between his cheeks. He skipped back to his room and got ready for bed, barely able to contain his excitement for morning to come.
Misty liked him.
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