Even Stars Die - 3. Chapter 3

He sends me a text at 23.30: "Just wanted to say goodnight. I enjoyed our chat today." I smile and return a text five minutes later: "Nite Nite. Thank you, sweet man."

Sweet man? Sweet man! Are you out of your freaking mind? Change that. Make it...Make it...big guy.

I fall asleep with a smile on my face, ready to take on the last few lectures before final examinations. I have to prove to the establishment that even a disabled man can make a difference.

I wake up to the sound of my HTC cellphone. The text reads: 'I no it's a bit early, hve a gr8 day..." with a smiley.

It's the middle of the day, lunch time. I'm eating a salad at the varsity restaurant. Cell phone rings. The message is plain and simple: "If you're okay, send me a smiley..."

I'm waiting for Jean to pick me up under the Oak trees in the varsity parking grounds. Another message: "Jean's going to be late."

It's from Alex. What? How could he know that? I mean Jean's not even a friend of his. I've never told him about the lift scheme I have with Jean and Patrick.

The phone rings again. This time it's a call. I'm frustrated, I'm not understanding things, and I'm certainly not in the mood to be hoodwinked, outwitted and outclassed by some nosy guy who has the hots for me. 'Alex.' My voice is deadpan.

'I know. I know, I'm sorry about all those texts. You must think I'm stalking you. I'm sorry.'

I'm strutt against the tree, phone close to my ear, his thick voice filling my ears. I'm smiling and he doesn't know it and maybe he's smiling and I don't know it. All I know is he makes me both frustrated and joyful.

'I can handle stalking.' I find myself laughing. He laughs with me.

'Well, I just wanted to know if you're okay.'

'I'm fine, thank you.'

'I'm around the corner if you want I could pick you up.'

'Around the corner, where?'

'I had some business in the area. It's no trouble, in fact I'm turning into the parking grounds right now. I see you...'

Son of a bitch.

'You didn't return my smiley so I thought there might be something wrong.' he says, pulling away.

'Nervous.' I say, adjusting into the seat and coupling the seat belt.

'Don't be.' He turns the volume of the music down.'No. Please, I love this song. It's a classic rendition of You Only Live Twice, theme song from the James Bond movie of the same name. I found out later that the script was written by Roald Dahl. Ever heard of him?'

'Yup. Wrote a book called Kiss Kiss, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Loved his stories.'

'Loved? Do you mean you don't like his writing now?'

'Well, I haven't read Dahl for a long time, I guess I'll still love him if I ever get to read his work again.'

'Great author. The music's great. What's the CD called?'

He shrugs his shoulders, 'Just a compilation of movie themes. You love movies.'

'Hell, yes. Movies, the Internet, cell phones, computer games, Facebook, gmail, hotmail, video chats...love all that stuff.'

I notice he's silent for a moment. 'Facebook?'

'Don't tell me you haven't got a Facebook profile.'

'I haven't. What's it all about?'

'Facebook, man. Where have you been? It's a social site, chat to friends, send them messages, but what's more important is your profile. People get to know you from the profile you post of yourself.'

He shrugs. 'Neat. All by cellphone?'

'Well, cellphones can do it, but there's nothing like the real thing. Desktop or laptop.'

'Laptop?'

'Aaaaaargh. Come on, Alex, stop playing with me.'

He laughs, glances my way then back at the road. 'I'm having fun. I like fun. Fun's fun. Okay, I won't do it again. Promise.'

'That's cool. I mean, you really do know what a laptop is, everyone on earth does.'

'It's a portable computer.'

'That's a relief. You had me worried there. Okay, so, the moment I get my laptop we'll place your profile on Facebook and hook up online, how's that?'

His voice becomes rounder, softer, 'Sounds perfect. I'd like that very much. Thank you.'

The burning in my groin, the yearning in my heart, the emptiness in my soul reaches out for him at that moment. It's just the way he says, thank you, he means it from his soul.

I smile at him as he glances my way and his smile stretches from ear to ear, his eyes bore into me and our gaze lingers for a moment. A moment too long, in which the longing for touch, for someone to love, for something to hold onto, for someone to come home to and share a glass of wine or a beer or brandy, became a priority in my life. Alex is the prime candidate and I haven't got the faintest clue how to go about it. To be romantic. To make the first move. I'm laughing at myself.

Alex will make the first move. He's bolder.