First time

"The first time?"

He scrunches up his face in an effort to remember. He turns and looks at the waves. I can see him starting to blush as the memory comes to him.                                                       

It hits me then that I've always loved to see him blush. 

"You remember Sadhana, right? One day after class, I drove her home in my bike", he continues, "she got down and without any warning, quickly leaned in and kissed me and then ran inside her house. That was the first time. It was very sweet and completely unexpected." 

"I wouldn't say unexpected. You are very kissable", I don't realize I had said that out loud until his head snaps around at me.

With mischief and mirth in his eyes he asks, "oh yeah? Then how come, all these years, you never kissed me?" 

"Because I was an idiot", I say, ready to throw caution to the wind.

He smirks and looks back at waves again.

"You know what?" I continue, " I'm much smarter now."

And that is the first time I kiss him. 

Are you cold?

I was reading Emily Henry's 'Happy Place' . Harriet there, doesn't want to show her sadness to her friends and family since she's worried that her sadness will sadden them and she definitely doesn't want to be the cause for their sadness. 

So she hides it and deals with it on her own. 

Which results in them considering her as closed-off and not sharing with them. So instead of making them sad, she's made them mad! 

Then I happen upon these lines from 'Dark Dark Wood' by Ruth Ware 

"I never know what to say in these situations. I hate people prying into my business, so I assume others will feel the same way. But sometimes they want to spill, it seems, and then you look cold and odd, backing away from their confidences. I try to be completely nonjudgmental - not pushing for secrets, not repelling confessions." 

Well ... stories of my life! Still haven't found the sweet spot between being inviting and gently repelling prying. Between sharing confidences and fear overwhelming. Between being warmly open and being a dumpster. 

Collateral damage of being considerate and independent is being perceived as standoffish and rude!

Note that these characters are the narrative voices in both these books and also here in this blog. Meaning... Our perception of self vastly differs from how we're being perceived! And we end up writing about it ourselves because how else can we explain!?

What heartens me is that if more then one author is writing of our cold standoffish characters, there's company for us! Art imitates life! And remember, these are protagonists. So my fellow narrators, do not fear of not being understood - keep bringing that main character energy!!