I Scream, You Scream, We all Scream for...(No Not Ice Cream but) a Kiss Goodnight

She's pretty when she smiles. The kind of pretty that makes you want to give her one of those half kisses. You know, just on the corner of her mouth, not a full kiss but enough of one to let her know exactly what you're all about just in case the laced hand holding hasn't gotten the point across already.

She was smiling then. Playing with her ice cream while I told her some story about who knows what, full with hand motions and sound effects. I was getting quite a good number of stares but I couldn't have cared less, I was in my element doing one of the things I do best; being ridiculously charming.

And it must have been working because just then she burst out laughing, planting a conspicuous hand on my knee.

Oh yeah, now I remember, I was telling her about the time I cut off my hair. The hair that had been 3 years in the making. “M”, as Ive decided to call her, had seen a picture of me when I still had my dreaded dreadlocks somewhere and with her hand showing no signs of vacating itself from my knee, she then proceeded to ask me the one question I have since become sick of answering: “So why did you cut off your hair?”

I slurped at what was left of my ice cream. It was watery as shit. That was the last time I was getting ice cream from Santos, I told myself.

“It was just time.” I told her.

I could tell that although my answer didn't necessarily impress her, it did make an impression. She didn't like guys with long hair. She was glad she had met me when the hair was already gone. Although she had taken note of the fact that the only hair on my head that I cut was the hair on my face and so this led her to ask me whether I was planning on growing my hair out again.

I shrugged, “Maybe, I don't know.”

“Please don't.” she pleaded, “I like the way you look now.”

She was now gripping one of my hands with both of hers, her tone and expression beseeching.

“Um, okay.”

There was that smile again. Gosh, if she didn't stop doing that she might catch herself quite a surprise...

“By the way,” she asked, oblivious to the affect she was having on me, “what time is it? Is it nine yet?”

Detaching my hand from hers, I pulled out my phone. Stole a look.

“Its quarter to. Wanna get moving?”

she nodded.

“Yeah, sure.”

we got up, walked down stairs and headed out the entrance.

As soon as we hit the street her hand found its way into mine and we proceeded to walk, hand in hand like the couple love birds we were not, towards the Old Taxi Park.

We talked about Cece Winans, One Tree Hill, dirty dancing and wearing glasses. Nothing about our conversation or the fact that when M ran into an old friend of hers and was asked whether we were dating and we were both reluctant to say that we weren't, to me, seemed in the least bit unusual.

“Well, this is me.” she said as we reached her taxi. It was filling up fast and so I didn't want to keep her. I gave her a hug.

“So when do I see you?” she asked. “Saturday?”

She was holding my hand, I gave hers a little squeeze.

“Definitely. Beep me when you get home so I can call.”

She nodded. Gave me a squeeze of her own.

“Definitely.”

There was that smile again.

Holding her gaze for a second, I let go and walked towards Cooper Complex, Bukasa taxis and home, all the while wondering “why didn't I friggin kiss her?”.