💦V.S. PT3 CH5 // Make a Wish on a Waterfall

It was a cute ode to the eerie and dramatic night we met: meeting here at the brick-paved horseshoe that ignited its promiscuous spark we haphazardly tended to. I waved as I approached our one-in-a-million brick ( I know you can't tell, but this is hunndo p sarcasm. There are half a dozen bricks that will snap your angles on the horseshoe, and that's on a good day); she waved back with a smile that cut through the night air's haze. She was on the phone giggling about who knows what as I approached and waited patiently, wrist in hand, for her to finish her call... well, that's how I had it planned in my head. In reality, the second my foot grazed our brick, she shoved the phone in my hand, still giggling (she was really a giggly, goofy ball of energy, like 24... let's call it 18/7, but we'll get to the other 6 hours in a year or 2) and burst out a jovial: "My dad wants to say hi!"

Well, sure... why not... "Hi, Mr... ( Right anonymity, let's see).
We'll call him Father, like the ol' boy from the KND era. Don't get me wrong, Father was that guy -- he grew to be one of my go-to advisors over Hollywood and my relationship. I digress; the reference will most definitely make sense later. Trust the process.

So I said with the same resounding confidence you would fake in your first job interview, " Hi Father, pleasure speaking with you."

I don't remember the exact quote, but I remember him bellowing in his deep, dark, gruff, and ever so slightly sultry voice, "Look, kid, if something happens to her, I'll find out, and men I know usually don't want to 'fuck around and find out.' Capisce."

I respected it, "Yes, sir!"

"Good, now, just make sure she's back in her dorm before the witching hour [3 a.m. if you don't know now]. Besides that, you kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Click!

"..." I tilted my head with an owl's inquisition and stared into her smiling regards. Admittedly, I could have gotten lost in her emerald gaze any day. It always felt as if time slowed to a gentle crawl, and the world around us faded into insignificance. Each glance into her stare was like diving into a vast, tranquil sea, where every wave whispered secrets of love and longing. In those verdant depths, I found a universe of warmth and affection, where every hue told a story of passion and tenderness... warmth I almost forgot, I had candles burning, and the wind could blow that scene away any moment. I regained a semblance of my composure and surmised, " I think he hung up."

She laughed, "Yeah, he does that."  don't worry, we'll get back to me drowning in her splendor. What can I say? I was a sucker in those days, a full-on simp (a travesty, really, but it is what it is. We live and learn).

The walk to our date night rendezvous was pretty close, and it wasn't inherently scenic. It was a parking garage, nothing special in isolation. But on this particular night, I had -- um -- borrowed one of the grands from the School of Music and, like Sisyphus, Hauled it up the treacherous 8-story mountain of concrete modern-day infrastructure until I reached the rooftop. It was on this rooftop that looked out onto Dawn Staleys (I mean, I know it's not her's, but it is high-key hers)  Colonial Life Arena that radiated a serene blue hue throughout the horizon, Where I set down: a lush blanket with the tint and feel of freshly fallen snow, a set of 3 dozen candles (Yankee of course mostly unscented but a few Pink cherry & vanilla candles were scattered throughout for the "ambiance) creating our personal protective spell around this moment almost like an infernal bubble of passion and promise that still burns brighter than the sun in my memories eye. Naturally, this scene would only be complete with a picnic basket filled with various delights for our night. Still, those details aren't pertinent to the story; in hindsight, if I had decided to pack those pistachios and PB&J sandwiches, the night would have ended the same -- for the most part. Ironically, she would have had to save my life, but we still would've had all the laughs and lovely conversations.

I'm rambling; we arrived, and the candles were still lit, absolutely unphased by the moon's gales. She radiated and twirled, saying how she felt like a princess of light or some other nonsense, and then kissed me entirely out of the blue. Which was great! Let me tell you now, I didn't even have to think about it; gotta remember, I was still a baby yet, and I was desperately infatuated with this bigger-than-life character who commandeered my spotlight -- In my movie, may I add! Whatever she could have, it suited her better anyway. My point is that she had single-handedly evicted any possible stressors from our night, and the rest was history.

We talked about our childhoods, parents, her fear of heights, and my weird, incoming nightmare trips (obviously not the same traumatic trips I've shared with y'all. These stories were tame and humorous). I don't know. It was just easy to share anything with her in that circle of flames. Couldn't tell you if it was the months of texts prior, our two exceptional eventful prior meetings, or the cherry blossom vibes gracing the air, but everything was easy.

Now, I have to disclose (and believe me, I cringe thinking about it) that I was forced to serenade her on the keys. I apologize to you, my reader, for that transgression. We are still roasting all the serenading post-nut clarity men in the comments. I swear. But I wasn't going to tell her no -- plus, I set myself up for failure; there was no way she would let the piano sit for "ambiance," -- so I sang her a gentle rendition of Make You Feel My Love.

Also, now that I think of it, this was pre-nut, which has to be worth a few brownie points. No? That's cool, too.

Regardless, to my surprise, that 4 minutes (and 6 seconds) was void of nerves. My legs didn't shake against the pedals, my hands didn't tremble under the pressure, and my voice didn't even bother to crack under the weight of her forehead nestled over my shoulder. Truthfully, I don't even think my heart skipped a beat. I wouldn't say that the measure in time was perfect, but it was calm, Simple, and Clean.

Now, Y'all, I have no excuse to include the intimate details of what followed; there's no description of those events that will encapsulate the whirlwind of emotions that we felt in that moment or every moment that followed, there's no way to adequately describe our compassion and longing for each other. And for Gods-sake, we aren't writing smut here, folks, so if you're so inclined to use your imagination, there's plenty in this scene for you to work with. Have fun or (preferably) don't.

What I will say is that from the start, we had that love that any two incomprehensibly broken souls would nurture. Not necessarily co-dependence in the typical sense, but in that "life is better when you're around—even the silence—and I may just... accidentally, burn the world down when you aren't (oopsie)" kind of way.

Returning to the actual events, at some point during our dance, she ended up seated on top of the roof ledge, her back to the glorious views of the Colonial Life stadium. It was at this point that my hands — if only for a second— allowed her to slip from my grasp. Blinded by the waters, my vision was thrown into a deep, murky abyss. All I could see was the black calamity of nothingness as my heart sank. Sank through the perils of the void as my pulse became isolated, every forsaken beat echoing throughout the chasm with cold, hollow despair as if straining to cry out in pain. The feeling of free-fall crushed every ounce of oxygen from its lungs till it was left like a fading dove, with wings shattered. Silently waiting for the end. Falling.

And just as my pulsing, tattered dove prepared to splatter across the rigid, wintry, unforgiving cement. My bones began to quake with fervent magnitude — commanding a warm sensation to radiate throughout my body — while the seam of my abdomen ruptured the incessant silence with a violent howl, impelling me to open my eyes. The frenzied gales bullied a single tear into streaking down my cheek as the tips of my fingers dug desperately into the (adjective) crevice of her back, one hand resting atop the other. She lay there, dangling, with only the support of my hands and the rough, chafing con concrete barrier she sat upon. We rested there with only the sound of our enlivened breath, gasping for air to keep us company.  

"you caught me." She said ever so tenderly. Her solemn voice blissfully cut through the air, immediately recalling the warm summer's embrace that was our reality. I pressed the whole of my jagged, calloused hands against the smooth, supple curves of her back and drew her in. I drew her close so that her breasts — glistening with sweat that cast a subtle luminescence from the moonlight — pressed against my chest. I could feel her heartbeat as it raced — startled or perhaps excited. While I  gazed into her profound sapphire eyes, I lingered. For a moment, a fleeting moment, just long enough to convey my sincerity. To fill in the unspoken words that described her incomparable beauty. Yes, I looked into the dazzling azure of her iris as they reflected the serene night sky. As they created an astounding sight, I couldn't help but be bewitched. Yes, Those eyes, like the sea creeping ever so close only to run away, teased me. They felt like silk curtains until I grazed my heavy finger through the cascades of her sleek hair. While they concealed the glimmer of her delicate olive skin, now flush with tints of a passionate rose. The tip of my finger subtly kissed her cheek as if to leave the finest pane of the distance between them. I leaned in until I could feel the warmth of her breath wildly gusting towards me, with frantic attempts to caress my lips. Then I whispered,

"of course. Didn't I tell you? You're the center of my world. I'll always be there to catch you."

That was my fatal mistake. As I gazed deep into her eyes, wading in the endless bounds of her seas, they reflected seductive glimmers of the stars. And thus, I carelessly treaded within her ocean. I dared to feel safe within her serene gaze while the steady waters slithered — calmly imprisoning me within affectionate ripples. Like a siren song, her gaze left me impassioned, disarming me with the modest vulnerability in her eyes. So, willingly exposed, I went against my every intuition. I decided not to drift to shore. However, despite my sense of security, an impending storm raged beyond the tranquil horizons. And when it arrived, I would be stuck in her eyes. Those gorgeous eyes. I found a universe of warmth and affection in them, where every hue told a story of passion and tenderness. And as I drowned in the splendor of her gaze, I discovered a home where my heart belonged, forever entwined with hers in a symphony of love.

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