Touched & Touche!

She had been looking forward to the night. It was just unfortunate that he sat two seats away from her instead of beside her. It could be worse, she supposed. She wasn’t expecting him to turn up at all, given the day’s events. At least, she could sneak a peek now and then, very furtively and admiringly so, sideways at this Very Suave And Manly Person.

During the break, he aligned himself within her line of vision and chatted with the moderator, such that had she had her sight focused naturally on what is in front of her, her eyes would lay straight on him.

She simply averted her gaze.

After a while, he pulled up a chair and sat in front of her, mirroring her demure pose, except he was staring at her.

She became acutely conscious of the enormous effort it took to pretend that it was entirely normal he had chosen to face her. And how ridiculously unnatural it was for her to feign ignorance.

Nevertheless, she continued to assume a façade of fascination at the other side conversation being conducted when it was impossible to miss him and that his own unwavering gaze was bordering on rude. She knows, even without looking up. She was stubborn, or if you prefer, spunky, in this way that can be rather endearing.

“How are you holding up, Ange?” he asked, softly and not unpleasantly.

She was simultaneously relieved of her awkwardness somewhat and given a proper reason to stare back in innocence defiance. But the simplest question is always loaded and she could only croak back another question in response. Are you asking about now or about work. In general , he shrugged. Okay, I guess. Trying to be happy. That would be right, he asserted. It is your natural, logical disposition. That you are a happy person. He has gone mad, she thought, and this is a bizarre conversation that I have no idea how to continue. Undeterred, she gave a lousy shot: What’s your natural disposition then? Introspective and reflective. She tried to be cool and witty: guys are more attractive when they are melancholic and depressed. She failed, she believed. He didn’t look like he got the joke. Then the awkwardness returned and she couldn’t remember what they had been talking about.

She forgot everything except the part when he suddenly stood up, took a few steps forward, leaned closer and placed his hands on her arms before returning to his original seat. There must have been a legitimate context, except there was none in this case; memory could not fathom and rationalise away the gap, and the grasp.

She vaguely recalled looking away and pretending what he did was natural again, and perhaps, it was, this time. An inner voice wondered if she had come across as too disinterested and sighed loudly.

She had hoped to make amends during the trip home together, as they stay in close proximity. Hopefully she won’t be tongue-tied in his presence. Nothing went according to plan though as another colleague had offered to drive them home. He rejected for no good reason, while she accepted. And they went their separate ways, most unwillingly on her part. He said bye, shook the male colleague’s hand, and touched her arm again in what she imagined to be a farewell gesture.