original fiction: and you will hold my heart inside your hand
original. pg-13. if she’s being honest, waiting in vain is usually her forte. 1063 words. title from lenka: we will not grow old.
note: written for solitude_82 for challenge #1 at inrevelations. thanks so much to eccentrical and lastupenda for the help and feedback ♥
and you will hold my heart inside your hand
you're just the one that i've been waiting for
i'll give you all that i have to give and more
but don't let me fall
-lenka: don’t let me fall
Meet Eloise. She’ll be our narrator this evening and there are two things that she feels you should be aware of before all the action starts (for legal reasons of course. Eloise does not wish to be held responsible for any disappointments that may follow.)
First things first: this is in no way, shape or form a love story. It isn’t. There won’t be any names carved into trees, or late night phone calls, or whispered terms of endearment. This is guaranteed with a full refund should you be unsatisfied.
Second: sometimes she lies.
(These two points of interest may or may not be connected, but, please, don’t take her word for it.)
-
Eloise doesn’t believe in horoscopes, not really, but there’s always a small part of her that hopes that the mystery man that she’s so often told about actually appears to sweep her off her feet.
But if she’s being honest (and isn’t she always?), waiting in vain is usually her forte.
-
Loneliness spreads like a virus, confidently, slowly, invading your senses like a thief in the night. It brings you to your knees in the worst way possible; you become victim to those pints of Ben & Jerry’s that you have saved for a rainy day, to those movies that have you reaching for the tissues at the most inopportune of moments, to those days when getting out of the bed seems pointless- in short, to the syndrome of the pathetically single.
She doesn’t want to be lonely anymore.
(When you start quoting Rob Thomas, you know the situation’s dire.)
-
He’s seventeen minutes late and she’s halfway through her third breadstick because, let’s face it, she can hardly be expected to stick to her “no-carb” diet when her blind date has taken his title to heart -- unseen to the Eloisian eye.
Seeing how her life is not a romantic comedy, her date does not come rushing in with flaming cheeks and stuttered apologies and that boyish charm that makes her forget all her humiliation like the teenage girl she never was.
She doesn’t cry. She orders veal parmigiana and salad and red wine, but she doesn’t cry.
(A little white lie never hurt anyone.)
-
She drinks too much wine.
One glass turns into two turns into three turns into a whole bottle that she really can’t afford to add to her cheque (what can she say? Those student loans are a bitch to repay).
He cuts her off with an easy smile and she forgives him because he’s just doing his job and she totally hates it when customers tell her how to do hers.
Hypocrite, Eloise is not.
He calls her a taxi because he’s proper gentleman and let’s her rest her head on his shoulder. The sidewalk is cool beneath her thighs.
“My name’s Eloise,” she says suddenly, because it feels important that he knows, cottonmouth be damned. “You know, like the children’s book. Except I don’t live in a plaza. And my dog’s name is Pepper.” Her voice isn’t slurring, she swears it.
He has a throaty laugh and her cab pulls up.
“I’m Liam and it was very nice to meet you Eloise.” The door shuts on the most brilliant smile she’s ever seen in her life (or maybe that’s just the glare from the street lights).
She dreams of him that night.
-
She goes back of course.
She’s nothing if not polite and her mother would surely disapprove if she didn’t thank her savior. (She’d probably frown at her for getting drunk in such an unladylike manner in the first place, but Eloise chooses not to dwell upon that part.)
It takes three separate attempts before she actually convinces herself that going to his place of work can’t really be considered stalking and that maybe he’ll find it more flattering than creepy that she’s gone through all this trouble to see him again.
(There’s this saying about denial and Egypt that is applied to situations like these.)
Finally on a surprising bout of courage, that is shockingly not liquid in nature, she pulls open the restaurant door.
He’s manning the waiting area, surrounded by coats and rich scents hanging off of him like a second skin.
He smiles at her like he’s been waiting for ages and, it’s not a trick of the light, it really is the best smile she’s ever seen.
-
“I should call him, shouldn’t I?” she asks. Pepper is extremely horrible with advice and doesn’t even bark in response.
Internal debate and Eloise were best friends in another life, she can tell. There are the pros and cons and she’s really tempted to write up a list a la Ross Gellar (you know, that one episode, where Ross writes a list and Rachel finds it and tears are cried and loves are lost. She loved that episode. Not that she can relate or anything), but that would just be a waste of trees-
She already knows she won’t call.
-
Turns out she doesn’t need to.
He calls her first.
-
Their first date isn’t magnificent.
His car smells like fried goods and the passenger seat refuses to adjust for her. The movie they see is a total bore. She eats too much garlic bread at dinner and speaks under her palm for a majority of the night.
But he wasn’t late. He wasn’t late, and he pulled out her chair for her at dinner, and he kissed her at the corner of her mouth without leaving a trace of saliva behind.
Their first date isn’t magnificent, but it’s still the best one she’s ever had.
(These butterflies? They’re a lasting effect.)
-
The most amazing part of the first date is this:
It sets the stage for the many more that follow.
-
Surprise, surprise:
This is the part where they fall in love.
-
It just hits her one day.
It’s not like in the movies where it’s a revelation that the audience has been waiting for with baited breath. There’s nothing dramatic or traffic-stopping about it.
She’s just in love.
It’s a gradual build-up, this love thing, so natural that once it’s there you don’t remember a time when it wasn’t apart of you- when he wasn’t apart of her.
It feels good.
-
You want your money back don’t you?
fin.
*
feedback?
note: written for solitude_82 for challenge #1 at inrevelations. thanks so much to eccentrical and lastupenda for the help and feedback ♥
and you will hold my heart inside your hand
you're just the one that i've been waiting for
i'll give you all that i have to give and more
but don't let me fall
-lenka: don’t let me fall
Meet Eloise. She’ll be our narrator this evening and there are two things that she feels you should be aware of before all the action starts (for legal reasons of course. Eloise does not wish to be held responsible for any disappointments that may follow.)
First things first: this is in no way, shape or form a love story. It isn’t. There won’t be any names carved into trees, or late night phone calls, or whispered terms of endearment. This is guaranteed with a full refund should you be unsatisfied.
Second: sometimes she lies.
(These two points of interest may or may not be connected, but, please, don’t take her word for it.)
-
Eloise doesn’t believe in horoscopes, not really, but there’s always a small part of her that hopes that the mystery man that she’s so often told about actually appears to sweep her off her feet.
But if she’s being honest (and isn’t she always?), waiting in vain is usually her forte.
-
Loneliness spreads like a virus, confidently, slowly, invading your senses like a thief in the night. It brings you to your knees in the worst way possible; you become victim to those pints of Ben & Jerry’s that you have saved for a rainy day, to those movies that have you reaching for the tissues at the most inopportune of moments, to those days when getting out of the bed seems pointless- in short, to the syndrome of the pathetically single.
She doesn’t want to be lonely anymore.
(When you start quoting Rob Thomas, you know the situation’s dire.)
-
He’s seventeen minutes late and she’s halfway through her third breadstick because, let’s face it, she can hardly be expected to stick to her “no-carb” diet when her blind date has taken his title to heart -- unseen to the Eloisian eye.
Seeing how her life is not a romantic comedy, her date does not come rushing in with flaming cheeks and stuttered apologies and that boyish charm that makes her forget all her humiliation like the teenage girl she never was.
She doesn’t cry. She orders veal parmigiana and salad and red wine, but she doesn’t cry.
(A little white lie never hurt anyone.)
-
She drinks too much wine.
One glass turns into two turns into three turns into a whole bottle that she really can’t afford to add to her cheque (what can she say? Those student loans are a bitch to repay).
He cuts her off with an easy smile and she forgives him because he’s just doing his job and she totally hates it when customers tell her how to do hers.
Hypocrite, Eloise is not.
He calls her a taxi because he’s proper gentleman and let’s her rest her head on his shoulder. The sidewalk is cool beneath her thighs.
“My name’s Eloise,” she says suddenly, because it feels important that he knows, cottonmouth be damned. “You know, like the children’s book. Except I don’t live in a plaza. And my dog’s name is Pepper.” Her voice isn’t slurring, she swears it.
He has a throaty laugh and her cab pulls up.
“I’m Liam and it was very nice to meet you Eloise.” The door shuts on the most brilliant smile she’s ever seen in her life (or maybe that’s just the glare from the street lights).
She dreams of him that night.
-
She goes back of course.
She’s nothing if not polite and her mother would surely disapprove if she didn’t thank her savior. (She’d probably frown at her for getting drunk in such an unladylike manner in the first place, but Eloise chooses not to dwell upon that part.)
It takes three separate attempts before she actually convinces herself that going to his place of work can’t really be considered stalking and that maybe he’ll find it more flattering than creepy that she’s gone through all this trouble to see him again.
(There’s this saying about denial and Egypt that is applied to situations like these.)
Finally on a surprising bout of courage, that is shockingly not liquid in nature, she pulls open the restaurant door.
He’s manning the waiting area, surrounded by coats and rich scents hanging off of him like a second skin.
He smiles at her like he’s been waiting for ages and, it’s not a trick of the light, it really is the best smile she’s ever seen.
-
“I should call him, shouldn’t I?” she asks. Pepper is extremely horrible with advice and doesn’t even bark in response.
Internal debate and Eloise were best friends in another life, she can tell. There are the pros and cons and she’s really tempted to write up a list a la Ross Gellar (you know, that one episode, where Ross writes a list and Rachel finds it and tears are cried and loves are lost. She loved that episode. Not that she can relate or anything), but that would just be a waste of trees-
She already knows she won’t call.
-
Turns out she doesn’t need to.
He calls her first.
-
Their first date isn’t magnificent.
His car smells like fried goods and the passenger seat refuses to adjust for her. The movie they see is a total bore. She eats too much garlic bread at dinner and speaks under her palm for a majority of the night.
But he wasn’t late. He wasn’t late, and he pulled out her chair for her at dinner, and he kissed her at the corner of her mouth without leaving a trace of saliva behind.
Their first date isn’t magnificent, but it’s still the best one she’s ever had.
(These butterflies? They’re a lasting effect.)
-
The most amazing part of the first date is this:
It sets the stage for the many more that follow.
-
Surprise, surprise:
This is the part where they fall in love.
-
It just hits her one day.
It’s not like in the movies where it’s a revelation that the audience has been waiting for with baited breath. There’s nothing dramatic or traffic-stopping about it.
She’s just in love.
It’s a gradual build-up, this love thing, so natural that once it’s there you don’t remember a time when it wasn’t apart of you- when he wasn’t apart of her.
It feels good.
-
You want your money back don’t you?
fin.
*
feedback?