A Stunning Turn Of Events

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story I wrote for a girl once upon a time. Unlikely things happen in the rain on Baker Street.

Submitted: September 10, 2012

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Submitted: September 10, 2012

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In a stunning turn of events, it was raining in England.
The young man found himself holding his backpack above his head as he walked down Baker Street. He was staring up at the sky, admiring the determination of the birds, who valiantly fly home in even the most dire circumstances. So enthralled in his winged friends was he, that the petit figure hurrying towards him totally escaped his attention, until BAM! Papers and books were strewn across the damp London pavement.
"Watch where you're going, you lou...sy..." His words came to a grinding halt as he beheld his unwitting assailant.
She had slightly longer than shoulder length brown hair, which was matted down across her face. Her white jacket and knee-length skirt were also soaked. For a split-second, the rain ceased to fall, as if gravity had taken leave. His breath seized in his throat as his eyes glanced across beauty never before seen. Her cappuccino skin was stained by the green-black mascara streaming down her face, but it only drew his attention to her coral lips, and her eyes, a burnt sienna. She was a mess, but only as an angel's wings are ruffled when they are cast to earth to guide a poor lost soul.
He noticed she didn't have an umbrella, and that her lips were moving quickly to herself, muttering something about 'late' and 'ruined'.
Be smooth, he thought to himself, as he straightened himself. He noticed her lips moving again, although they seemed to be directed at him now.
"...and everything's all soaked and now I'm late and today just couldn't - YOU. " Her eyes narrowed and her teeth gritted. "If YOU would watch where YOU were going, I wouldn't be late and WE wouldn't be soaked on a bloody Thursday morning!" Her voice was shaking now, and her little fingers balled into fists. The boy's voice stuttered, taken aback by the angel's fury.
"Um...I...the birds...and the rain...HERE, TAKE MY BACKPACK!" and he thrust his messenger bag towards the girl, whose hand had relaxed into a palm shape again. So much for smooth, asshat. he grumbled mentally.
"I'm not robbing you, moron. Keep your bag." She raised one eyebrow.
"Um...what I meant was...you...no um...brella, and...BACKPACK!" This time he slowly raised the bag and held it over her head, a makeshift canopy for a London morning. She stared at him incredulously.
"Yes, you have a backpack, and...oh. An umbrella?" Her face started to redden. She couldn't see it under his matted black hair, but his mouth trembled into a small smile. He liked the way she blushed.
Regaining his composure, he pointlessly wiped his hands on his soaked green shirt and tried again, "Yeah, well you crashed into me, but you could use an umbrella guy, so hello."
"Yes, well I still think you're an idiot for being a giant post in the pavement," She tried to intimidate him more by glaring in his eyes, which was hard because she was a head and a half shorter, "but I'm already late and I need to go now, so...if you want to, I'm heading up the street.".
"Well then, let's be on our way." He held the bag entirely over her, as the English torrents poured themselves over Baker Street. They walked in silence for several minutes, with nothing but the sounds of bustling cabs shuffling by and brazen pigeons pan handling to punctuate the lack of speech.
"Stella." She finally spoke, facing away from the boy. Her voice was low, and her voice faintly traversed the arms-length that felt like a mile between them. "And yours?"
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darted toward the small drenched figure clad in white beside him. She was a palm top tiger, small but fearsome, and it emanated from her.
"Noah. It's Noah."
"Noah." She repeated, mulling the name over in her head.
"Stella." He breathed the word, and he could see it in the air as it condensed. The cold London rain permeated the silence as they walked for several minutes more, eyes fixated on the buildings ahead.
.....
....
...
"Noah." He heard the girl use his name. He paid no mind to it, his eyes focused on the path. Even when he felt it, the small tug on his shirt, he listened, but did not look.
"The pavement...is much drier......over..here." Her face was crimson scarlet, her eyes facing the pavement. He felt her closing the gap between them, until his arm was at his side, and so was she. A mile of distance had become but a hair's breadth. The boy took her hand off his shirt, and, in the same movement, placed her fingers between his. Her eyes widened for a second, then fell into an incomparable blush. Her indifferent persona cracked for a moment, and her lips stretched into the first smile he had seen from this fallen star of a woman.
As the young man held her hand in his as the rain cascaded onto them, his mouth eased into his favourite half-grin.

"Smooth."

--fin--

 


© Copyright 2017 Nassar Khan. All rights reserved.

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