Against the clock

Against the clock

I met her one winter afternoon in a random coffee shop. She was like a halo of light, illuminating everything with her smile. I was a black hole, inevitably drawn to her light. I was drinking one of those barista coffees, very stylish and, from my perspective, of little value for its price, while reading a copy of The Name of the Wind, wearing large headphones whose pads had seen better days.

I looked her over from head to toe, wearing a pair of ripped jeans, dark red Converse that were a bit torn on the sides, and an Iron Maiden sweatshirt. I was sure that this wasn't the first time she had read that book, but she seemed to enjoy it a lot. From that day on, she made a little space for herself in that café and for some reason, I decided to follow her trail. She was a very pretty young woman. With eyes that were irremediably sad.

I was a little surprised by the ease with which she turned the pages, and how on certain occasions she would stare into nothingness. Lost in whatever thoughts tormented that head on which rested a straight brown mane. She tried to appear somewhat ordinary, but, as a good observer that I am, I realized that it was broken.

She could have been my daughter, if I had had children, the only thing I was carrying on my back was a failed marriage thanks to my mistakes, not that it didn't weigh on me, but I assumed my share of the blame and moved on, enjoying the small pleasures of life, whatever I could get and in one way or another I found a kind of peace in the midst of life's hardships.

Every afternoon she sat in that little corner forgetting about her world and I did the same a couple of tables away and watched her like a fucking stalker, which was what I was becoming. My presence did not go unnoticed by her, from time to time she would raise her gaze and meet mine. I was not ashamed of doing what I did. Anyway, I couldn't stop doing it, it became a kind of necessity. She never did or said anything that made me stop contemplating her presence, we were two constants in a world full of variables. Somehow, I liked to think that my presence made her feel a little comforted, deep down I knew she was as alone as I was.

One day she showed up a little later than usual, with her left hand completely immobilized and a blow to her left cheekbone. I stood there in my usual spot, a million thoughts racing through my mind. I was upset, as I hadn't been in years. A nascent anger took hold of me, and it was directed at whoever had hurt her. I'm a wolf, and I protect my pack, and she was already part of it. I think my next move was motivated by the rage that was beginning to consume me. I stood up and stood in front of her. Up close she looked smaller, more fragile, and more bruised. She blinked slowly, not quite understanding what I was doing there, breaking our particular status quo, and just as slowly she took off her headphones.

– Who hurt you? – I asked almost in a growl.

– How? – she answered, somewhat disoriented.

– Tell me who hurt you and I'll put them in their place.

– And you are supposed to be a knight in shining armor who goes around saving damsels in distress? – he replied with a hint of irony.

– No, I am a wolf and I do not tolerate harm to those I like.

– You can keep your teeth… wolf –a small smile appeared on his face–. I fell off the skateboard.

– Oh, I see – without asking her permission I sat down next to her and dared to start a conversation with her, I took advantage of that anger as the impulse I needed to finish stalking her.

And so our fairy tale story began. Lia was enveloping me with her words and without even thinking about it, we ended up every afternoon at that small table where our knees touched from time to time, talking about everything and nothing. Telling each other the little disagreements of our lives. The bright star that orbited ever closer to the black hole, running the risk of being consumed.

I don't know if it was the chaotic home she came from, or the almost abusive relationship she just got out of, or the fact that just a few months ago she was on the verge of becoming part of the statistics as yet another girl attacked by a group of savages in our country, which caused an almost insane instinct to protect her to emerge. In our little bubble where there was only the two of us, I realized that it wasn't enough. Without realizing it, I realized that I loved her. That I was crazy about her.

One conversation led to another, and one rainy February afternoon, using her irremediable fear of storms as an excuse, we ended up at my flat. Lía had a particular aura that attracted others, that and she was damn pretty, despite being terribly introverted, the complete opposite of me. Because she charmed without realizing it, that particularity awakened a previously unknown jealous side in me. The old wolf was not willing to share his little treasure.

Without asking me, she took the remote and searched for a somewhat eclectic playlist on YouTube that we both shared and to which we were adding songs according to our tastes. She was into fixed playlists, and I was into the “terrible” random one. We continued talking with the music and the rain in the background.

That afternoon's coffee was barely touched, I suppose I should have told him that I had no sugar at home and much less milk as I am intolerant to it. So when I tasted his lips, they barely tasted like coffee, on the contrary, they had a soft aftertaste of it that I easily got used to. I didn't want to rush and scare away the little fawn that had made the foolish decision to trust the wolf.

She was trembling in my arms, and despite my fear, I noticed that fiery gaze that lit me up like a spontaneous combustion. Almost without realizing it, we ended up in my room. Some of our clothes were not so lucky, they were lying abandoned in the middle of the hallway. And to the sound of Fast Car, the Luke Combs version , I got to know what an angel was in all its splendor.

Her snowy skin awakened my member like few times in the past. She was so beautiful and the best thing was that she was going to be mine alone. My hands ran over her fine curves almost slowly, my mouth and hers connected with the passion of two lovers who had been waiting for each other for a lifetime, at least that's how I felt. The best came when I heard her soft moans while my lips sucked her nipple as if my life depended on it.

Her slender fingers daringly slipped into my hair, inviting me to continue. Our skin joined together and my throbbing member sought its warm home. The soft walls of her pussy welcomed me with faint spasms of pleasure. Her legs hooked around my hips and in that intimate and deep position I colonized her skin.

Her mouth and mine merged, evoking everything we felt. Between moans she screamed that she loved me, I responded with deeper thrusts and an inability to tell her how much I already loved her. I liked the way my name sounded from her lips just before she came. It was the most morbidly tender spectacle I have ever witnessed. Her tight pussy squeezed my member with such intensity that I came as deep as I could and with such intensity giving me an orgasm that left me almost undone with pleasure.

From that afternoon on, milk and sugar were never missing in my home, because every afternoon we forgot about coffee and devoured each other with an unusual passion. In the eyes of others we became an odd couple, we were very happy. It was not long before the afternoons became longer, turning into dinners and early mornings, then into mornings and then into full days.

Every night I took it upon myself to explore every little corner of her skin, to kiss her while I penetrated her, sometimes gently, but generally with a constant and deep hammering. It was difficult for me to control myself with such a creature in my arms. Her little cries of pleasure and constant declarations of love made me feel all-powerful, creating a monster that constantly needed her displays of affection to which I responded briefly or with a kiss.

By his side I felt that happiness was forever.

*

Lía had a heart deficiency that I didn't find out about until the tragic day I lost her.

She had a flawed heart, mine was ripped out when she flew away from me forever. I never told her how much I loved her.

Every afternoon we continue to share a coffee, reading sitting next to his grave makes me feel a little closer.

Honestly, I always thought it would be the other way around. Although I would relive our entire history just to have it again. If there is something beyond that, I am certain that we will meet again, and this time without being against the clock.