We All Wish Love Was Shameless | Teen Ink

We All Wish Love Was Shameless

February 21, 2013
By bleveinit BRONZE, Lewisville, Texas
bleveinit BRONZE, Lewisville, Texas
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

We All Wish Love Was Shameless





“What a stupid girl. What garish red hair. What a dumb smile. I don’t love her. Stupid girl.”
There was no doubt, he was in love. And so deep in denial, that it wasn’t enough to convince himself that he wasn’t in love, he had to convince himself that she was an awful, stupid girl. He wouldn't have to go through all the trouble of making her repulsive to him if he would just talk to her. But God knows that's a fate worse than death. His efforts to rid himself of her like a common cold had failed thus far. Eventually, he decided he was a dead duck either way, so he might as well talk to her. He debated on how to approach her, on whether he should act nonchalant or try to say something profound to impress her. He decided a simple hello would suffice. Somehow, in the time it took him to awkwardly approach her, the word hello got terribly mangled and maimed into ‘herhumph..ble..’, and that’s what escaped his mouth before walking away with his tail tucked snuggly between his legs.
Good lord, it was like being in highschool again. He questioned why he was reliving this ridicule, and then he remembered, he was in love (or thereabouts) and therefore had no choice in the matter. He watched her carmine curls bounce playfully on her shoulders for a few minutes and then decided to make another attempt to speak to her. This idea was thought out carefully, though just as futile. He marched up to her, momentarily confident, and said,“Your eyes sparkle... like... green gems... on your head...” After a long silence, he continued, because he was just too prideful to shut up there. “The trees are talking to me... they are saying hello, to you... hi.” Most girls would have been put off by his appearance, disturbed by his words, and further disturbed by the look on his face, unfortunately, she was one of those girls. For the first time since he saw her, he uttered a coherent sentence, “What's your name?”, he asked. Her name floated from her mouth to his ears on a fluffy little cloud with flowers and talking unicorns and gnomes singing christmas carols, and it sounded like love. The taste was sweet as he repeated her name, “Robin”, he whispered. After comparing her to a bird, and further smashing his chance with her into a billion awkward and hopeless little pieces, his name crawled out of his mouth like a deranged creature. “Oh, hi.... Retemeris... is that latin or what?”, she inquired. He was happy she hadn't run away yet, that boded well for him. “Umm, nah, I dunno... but you can call me Remmy... or Retem... or Eris... or Meris, well you can call me anything if you keep talking to me”. “I’m sorry, do you need something, orr...”, She said, trying to escape the conversation. He could sense her discomfort and began making a desperate attempt to keep her interest. “Do you like coffee? I can buy you coffee, if you want”. If it hadn't been for her lack of anything else to do, or his somehow trustworthy smile, she would have walked away, and another word would have never been exchanged between them. But that just isn't how love works.
As soon as the word “Okay” met his ears, he took her hand, invading her personal space bubble that she always kept around her, and showed her to the coffee shop around the corner. As the door of the establishment entitled “Coffee Haus” opened, a glance was exchanged between the two that meant the world to our dear Remmy, because she smiled. It was an obviously upper-class joint, from the cigarette buds in the ‘tips’ jar, and the not at all suspicious ochre stain on the carpet. So quaint. He led her by the hand to his favorite spot by the least foggy window. As she sat down, she swept off a dead fly from her side of the booth. Trying to ignore the profane etching on the table, and the gum he just sat down in, he started a conversation, “So, do you work? Like, a job I mean.”,She half-smiled and replied,”I'm a model, actually. It pays well and all, so its good”. He got suddenly more respectful, “Me too, uh, ma’am. I mean I work. I'm not a model.”, He said trying to hide his belly flab, “I'm a neurologist”. Robin laughed, Remy smiled, time passed, love grew, and history was made, because a model and a neurologist had just fallen in love in a coffee shop that was later shut down due to a truly atrocious health inspection, over cups of coffee that were really just lukewarm mugs of water mixed with coffee grinds.


The author's comments:
This is a quirky romance about a neurologist and a model falling in love.

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