From almost-first meeting of eyes, they spent the early of that summer flirting in way known only to the shy, where meekness and caution combined with heart-ambition attribute great sign to what, in truth, is small. In veiled guard, they are expressions still that, to most, appear as nothing and whose discernment of greater nature only a fool can believe and only an equal fool—filled with reciprocal draw to ideal and romance—might see.
And so they were, whenever in nearness to one another. Eyes and spirits aware and fixed to other, ever aware of presence, following but never outright gazing and staring, concealing attentions in corner-eye glances and behind guard of sunglass lenses, concealing stay of attention and gaze.
When one moved and sight, to the other, obscured, each answered in counteraction, shift of body and place, so that they too might see and keep the other in intentional but dismissive sight.
Early on, each discerned this pattern in the other, and the testing of its truth was first language to their flirt. Aware of their own interest and attention directed to the other, they lived excitement from the quiet hope and conviction that they too were seen and viewed with interests by the other; and in this hope, they sought greater sign and confirmation from the other, all the while denying open signal to their own witness of the other.
And so they were, quiet fools, near but never speaking, faces in a greater crowd that carried conversations, and in which they joined, so they might share their words—same as gazes and directed smiles—by proximity and pretended happenstance.
With guarded eyes, they learned each other’s mannerisms, and on the times—behind sunglassed guard—they believed the other staring back, holding gaze the same, suppressed smiles would show in offered expression to the other, acknowledgment of an attention but too cautious to greater admit; and in reading and understanding of expression offered, each behaved in equal effect: blush that didn’t show through summer faces, faces and bodies quickly turned away, shifted, from the other on whom they wished to leave smile and gaze still fixed.
Most meetings, or nearnesses, came near or on the water—smalltown poolside or boat of a friend’s father—and in the summer heat and water’s invitation, they showed more of themselves than meekness would, elsewhere, have allowed: swimming and tanning figures revealed, less guarded, to sun and other’s sight.
In that time, she noticed how she changed both day to day and subtle over time. Day to day, she wore her hair different—sometimes drawn back into ponytail, straight tight that seemed more golden smoothed and struck in the light; and sometimes down, still straight but seemingly darker—a sand blonde that neared to brown—when without bound to fix in place. He noted the color of her nails, a day when changed from a soft sky blue to bolder flush of pink announced prominent on toes as she sat by poolside, arms wrapped and holding over knees as toes extended forward as he viewed their movement of dance overhanging water’s edge.
By time in the sun, her tan filled and deepened, from early lines at season’s start of shirts and shorts, shoes, then sandal lines. Her tan balanced, richened in tone, announcing stronger—and paradoxically softer—her freckled and mole star-pattern cast on open skin.
She wore suits of earthy tones—greens and browns and one of a deep burgundy that raced his heart on day when she dove into the pool and rose from the water, mascara ran with its darkness bringing focus to exposed eyes within, their color left more striking in contrast of the framing dark, and then the shock of skin, pale and white and new, where suit was shifted in the movement.
It was then, meeting eyes unguarded, rising from the water—shock of skin still shone, no movement to conceal—he knew she fixed on him, smile offered, transcendence in a flash before eternity raced on but lasting long enough to know that each were found and seen, even possibly desired, and that foolishness of actions, perceptions, and private hopes in summer’s beginning were perhaps true after all.
Without a word, stare alone, all was spoken.
Moment interrupted.
Crowd of friends laughed, and she fast adjusted, shock of show concealed again as eyes broke from him and redirected with dismissive laugh into banter and engagement to friends around.
What she saw and thought of him, she saved within herself.
Remembrance of her stare imprinted on his mind, and for two days after, it was all dream and vision made.
On night of the third day, he saw her once again. It was Independence Day, night sky of stars and flashing light, and as crowd and friends fixated on bursts and crackle fall of magnesium streaming light, he looked to her. His eyes, unguarded, found hers the same—wide night-pupil centers in thin ring of green, choosing him before show of spectacle above.
Drawn and given boldness in affirming witness of her stare, he moved for her, each’s eyes unbreaking in approach.
He smiled and felt a blushing rise though it was missed in the night shade of summer-hue skin. As he first noticed in response to conversations begun at pool side’s edge, a smile that seemed ever waiting and ready for reason to show broke from the corners of her lips and spread in full expression. That moment, under bursts and flash of light, he would remember more than any show of splendor overhead.
Quiet, reading faces—eyes and expressions—they held in matching stares, accents of expression enhanced and changed and seen in different light in dazzling of bursts above.
“I wondered if you’d ever talk to me,” she spoke, breaking the silence between. “I guess you haven’t yet,” she joked and too observed, making light—and undisturbed—by his quiet as she felt a comfort in the energy and closeness of his presence. “I think you’re interesting,” she told on. “Whenever I see you, you always seem caught in a thought, and I wonder what it is. I never know, but I’d like to learn, if you’d ever want to share or say.”
“I think the same of you, whenever I see you. You have a beautiful smile, but I always wondered how your eyes looked when you did.”
Only then did she look away, brushing strands of loose falling hair into hold behind her ear. When gaze returned, her eyes were different—softer, gentler, less striking in force of stare, more inviting in new-shown openness and falling of a guard.
“Well, now you know,” she spoke, each feeling the blush and touched affection in response of other, sensed but unseen through night and summer hued selves. “I have thoughts too,” she spoke. “I’d share mine too…if you would ever want to know…”
“I would…I do,” he answered.
“I am glad.”
Finale began and the bursts and staccato crackle cresendoed as sky lit, bursts compounding within and upon another, as they held for the moment in share of silence, stare, and smile.
They stood together, each turning to the show as sky lit in concentration of climax, and when it was over and all spoke of the spectacle and its ending, to the two of them, it was never so.
Light and bursts and cacophony of dazzlement of the night, to them, was not finale.
Night finale was but a beginning in an end: a first sentence written in meeting and spoken stares, filled afterward with words, written in hope to romance and rest of summer, witnessings and splendors, they alone would know and share.
*****
For the rest of summer, they shared their thoughts, minds, hearts, and bodies in ways of innocence that flirted with the Fall.
He learned the language of her eyes, suppleness of her kiss, her way of wetting lips just before, narrowing and pursing together before his movement and revelation then of answered offering, the way of their match, rhythm and energies found therein, then flicker of tongue and strength of hold in unison telling on. He learned the match his hands to hers and she too the way of hands grace along sides and shapes of form and the fit of his hands in body’s soft arc when held in the low of her back.
He learned her thoughts. He learned her dreams, all of herself she wished for him to know—nothing more, nothing less—and returned from him the same.