8

Edgar Torn.

Sitting across from each other, with that calm atmosphere and soft lighting in the center of the table, I could see her better.

Everything there seemed to be going according to plan. I was with her, in a restaurant. I thought this would only happen in a few months, but she accepted and there we were, in that wonderful restaurant where I always went alone.

But not today.

I told her to order something, and she smiled and started thinking, until we decided to order the same thing; we had said it at the same time. At that moment, I smiled, I was excited inside… Very much so.

We ordered something simple but delicious: fish and chips, a London classic. Nothing fancy, but it was enough to make us smile with that intense intimacy.

Sarah was so beautiful. Her dress highlighted her porcelain skin, and her green-brown eyes sparkled with a gentle interest that made me want to answer before she even asked the questions.

I was... enchanted by her.

He just wanted to stand there, looking at her, not even words were necessary.

But I tried to calm my enthusiasm, I scratched my throat and turned my gaze from hers, took a sip of water, disguised.

It was when I heard... your voice...

''Edgar, I’m curious. Did you have any special reason to become a teacher? ''

I left the glass on the table and looked back at her.

Sarah was curious, resting her chin on her hands with that slight smile.

I took a deep breath, taking advantage of the question, since talking about the subject interests me so much.

“Since school, books have always been my escape… my passion, actually. They helped me understand the world and escape from it, too.” I smiled discreetly. “I studied languages, then specialized in literature, English… I wanted to stay in that world. And I thought that mentoring writers would be my way of helping, of opening their eyes. There are people who are so talented; they just need a little push.”

She listened to me as if my words were worth their weight in gold. And as I talked to her, I believed they were.

“I can't go a day without reading. It's like breathing to me.”

Her eyes sparkled, the corners of her lips smiled...

It was so beautiful to see her up close like that, I could never get tired of it.

“I used to be like that too. I still am, actually,” she began, adjusting her back in her chair.

Sarah began to tell me about her childhood, about how she created imaginary worlds in hardcover notebooks, about how books were her friends when no one else was.

She said that writing was her refuge, her joy, and that even without support in the beginning, she never gave up on writing, on the day when she would publish her works.

Everything she told me made me more curious, I was attentive to each sentence.

Her sweet, sweet voice... I saw how happy she was when she told me, her hands moving in the air, the brightness in her eyes, even the way she breathed, was different.

We toasted with a glass of wine. To life. To dreams. And to what was to come.

I tapped my glass against hers carefully, feeling the warmth of that moment engrave itself in me like a mark. Something was being confirmed. Finally, we were forming a connection.

And that was everything to me.

The food arrived, and we ate, talked a little, and drank wine.

Everything was wonderful, even better than I had imagined.

When the bill came, I didn't even give her a chance to argue, I had to pay, I had invited her.

“I insist,” I said firmly.

It was the least I could do for that night, which seemed like a chapter written especially for me.

She smiled, almost embarrassed. And that made me like her even more.

In the car on the way back, she was a little quieter. Shy. Perhaps absorbing what we had talked about. Maybe... feeling the same as me.

Her silence was... comfortable.

She smiled at me occasionally, and I did the same.

When we arrived at her building, I parked carefully. The neighborhood was quiet and elegant. She took off her seatbelt and turned to me, still wearing the coat I had put on her shoulders.

“I loved dinner, Edgar. It was great to get to know you better.”

“Same here, Sarah.” I looked into her eyes. “You're a talented writer; you'll be even better in the future.”

She thanked me.

She looked away for a while, seemed thoughtful. Sarah took her fingers to her lips and looked at me, half in doubt.

'' The college where you work, what’s its name again? I thought I was confused. '' she said, smiling timidly.

“Lindenhall College,” I replied proudly. “It's one of the most traditional colleges here in London.”

She seemed surprised. Her mouth opened.

“Really? Never had the opportunity to meet! I was thinking here... I want to talk to you, I wish to ask you for tips for my next release. But... that’s a secret, okay? '' he said, giving half a smile.

I said, slowly approaching his face and whispered.

“I promise. Nothing you tell me will ever leave my lips. It'll be just between us.”

She held out her hand. I took it.

It was warm... soft.

And with that touch... something tightened in my chest.

Sarah was real... She trusted me with her secrets, and also... She wanted me around. Just like I wanted her.

She got out of the car, whispering “good night,” and left my jacket on the passenger seat.

I wanted her to take it with her, to ask me to come get it... but no.

I needed to stay calm. I had already gone too far. I needed to be patient. That was how I was going to win her over.

I watched her climb the steps of the building. Walk to the front door. And before going in, she looked back.

Just for a moment.

But it was enough to make my heart race.

Now... I knew where she lived.

I knew the building. The entrance. The street.

That was more than I had hoped to achieve that night.

I had dinner with her. I listen to her. I made her laugh.

She looked at me. She trusted me.

Perhaps without realizing it, she did more than that.

She left the room.

Room for me to enter.

And now... she was my favorite story.

And I wasn't even close to finishing the first chapter.