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Penny is so stupid.
That thought crossed my mind for the twelfth time today. We are furniture-hunting, if that’s a thing, and so far she picked everything we apparently need for our new apartment. In all fairness, she did ask for my opinion in all of the chairs and tables, but she also dismissed my opinion for everything so I’m just going along with it.
Until we reached the wardrobe section in IKEA. Then she just went nuts.
Penny may fool everyone by presenting herself all cool and colected but everyone who truly knows her (that is, me) knows that she is actually a huge dork. And a nerd. But she owns up to that part.
Anyways, the thing is that she recently started reading this series of books about some kids that go to a magic world because of a magic wardrobe.
Yeah, magic wardrobe.
That’s probably why I’m currently inside one of the biggest wardrobes IKEA had on display just so Penny can make a video she thinks will be funny. I don’t really know how she talked me into this but I stopped questioning it years ago.
It still doesn’t stop me from thinking that she is stupid.
A very persuasive kind of stupid.
I hear her screaming “GO” from outside the wardrobe and put on my most heroic face, violently kicking the door open and screaming “FOR NARNIA!” and running out of it. It ocurred to me, a few seconds later, that she might have said “no” instead of “go” because instead of seeing her holding her phone, I see nothing but dark. And soft.
Something - someone - says “Ooof” and I realize I ran face first into an actual person.
While screaming.
From a wardrobe.
Well, shit.
Why we still come to IKEA is a mystery to me, since neither me nor Wellbelove like their stuff. I mean, they are fine, but you can always find something nicer and cheaper elsewhere. Also there’s that do it yourself thing that we aren’t exactly fans of. We do like to challenge ourselves but our third collapsed bookshelf must be a sign.
We are now browsing the wardrobe section. We don’t even need a wardrobe but we still like to check them and imagine if we could assemble them ourselves. That’s a game that is only fun when we are imagining it because reality tells very different stories.
There’s just one other person here, a girl about our age, and she’s apparently taking pictures of a wardrobe right next to the one I’m looking at. I lean a bit to the side to see what’s so interesting about this one and the girl screams “NO” and I realize I must have screwed up her picture. Before I can turn to apologize or do anything, a loud bang comes from the wardrobe, a war cry muffled by my sweater as a boy runs face first into my chest.
I exhale loudly, more of surprise than anything, as the boy grabs onto my arms as to not fall. I guess he wouldn’t like to embarass himself. Anymore.
As he looks up (I’m about 3 inches taller than he is) I notice that he is blushing. Adorably. This is the most adorable blush in the most adorable face that I have ever seen.
The moles alone, really.
And his hair is just so.
I’m blushing too, I can feel it.
Shit.
This sweater is really soft. And this person smells really good. I also know it’s a man because my forehead is still pressed against a very muscular, boob-less chest. My balance is still recovering from the shock so I grab onto his arms so I don’t fall and- shit, these are really nice arms. Those are all things I notice in a split second, just the time necessary to recover my ground and step back. My face is burning and I make the effort to look up so I can apologize, even though, right now, I’d much rather still have my face covered.
Preferably by that sweater.
I finally mee the boy’s eyes - he must be around all age - and manage to say “I’m sorry” before he starts laughing. But not just laughing, he’s almost howling with joy. That just makes my face burns hotter, both with embarassment and anger. Couldn’t he just accepted my apology and left before laughing? He had to do it right in front of me?
But then I notice Penny and some other girl, a few steps away, also laughing and decide to just join them. It was pretty ridiculous from every angle, I realize.
“That was - That was some way to come out of the closet, kid” the boy says, between harsh breaths “Wish I had thought of something like that when I did it”
“I didn’t - It wasn’t...I mean” what am I doing
“Use your words” is all the boys says, laughter finally dying down
“It was for Narnia, I mean, for a video” I say and somehow manage to make him laugh again. I must say, it feels really good to make him laugh. I quite like the sound of it.
This kid is unbelievable. I haven’t laughed this hard in weeks, and here I am, cackling wildly in the wardrobe section in IKEA. He’s still blushing but by the way his eyes move, scanning my face, I don’t think it’s from embarassment. He still looks adorable, though.
“Either way” I say, getting a hold of myself “It still made my day. How’s your name?”
“Simon” he says, promptly raising a hand.
“Baz" I say and wait a beat and then shake it, enjoying how soft his hand is against mine. The handshake lasts for a little longer than the usual and we both notice it, quickly pulling away and diverging our gazes.
“So” he says, looking down
“So” I say looking at him, expectantly
“Could you, I mean, would you-” he’s stuttering again. That is surprisingly endearing.
“Use your words” I repeat and he takes a deep breath
“Would you like to get some coffee? Someday? Possibly? With me?” he says, quickly and I can’t help but chuckle a little at his embarassment. I was just about to make some joke just to embarass him further but my mouth betrays my mind as I say “Yes. Yes I would.”
He beams at that and I’m glad I didn’t go for the joke thing. His smile is beautiful.
He produces a sharpie from one of his pockets and takes my hand, quickly writing his name and a phone number on it.
“Call me” he says and walks away, looking at me one last time before joining his friend and leaving.
“I will” I say, but only when he’s too far to listen.