The boy from Bordeaux

He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. His self-assurance drew me in despite a t-shirt that read “Nerd”. He had the kind of skin that can only come from living in sunny place. His hair was cropped short and his arms begged me to touch them. His teeth were so white and his smile so perfect. When he asked for my number I couldn’t believe it. And when we stayed up texting each other until 3 am I couldn’t help myself. He came to pick me up and he seemed unsure of himself. Didn’t know whether to kiss me on the cheek or give me a hug. He had sunglasses on and his expression was neutral. He wore a white t-shirt. We went and got a drink on the harbour and sat on the cobblestone, our legs dangling. The sun was in my eyes and I thought the day was perfect. The conversation was stilted because of his English. But I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. I touched his arm a few times but nothing happened. We had only been gone an hour before he said he had to leave. It was the middle of the afternoon. I wondered why he had wasted my time if he wasn’t interested. We said an awkward goodbye. He texted me later saying that he had had a beautiful day with me. I didn’t respond. It was only months later that I realized he was probably nervous.