[ WP ] I feel like there is a lack of love on this subreddit . Write a Love Story !

I do n't do small talk. I rarely find something interesting enough that it would urge me to speak. To me, things are either very boring or very interesting, and as a 16 year old, this frustrates me. I feel like I ca n't live my life fully because every thing seems so distant. You're only young once, they say, and so I'm even more annoyed. 
 
 So when one day, while I was engrossed in a book at my local hole-in-the-wall cafe, and this old man sits at my table to invite me to something ( what it was, I did n't care exactly ), I immediately say yes. 
 
 We hopped into his old boxy car that did n't have a stereo and started driving. Not once did I think what am I doing. I did n't even feel an ounce of resistance in my body. I've seen you at that cafe a couple of times, he said. That's quite a book you're reading. I looked down at my lap - Lolita. Yeah, I said, shifting my gaze out the window. Quite. 
 
 It's not that I was n't interested enough. I just suddenly felt a bit guilty about reading that book because I only wanted to read it after I saw the film. I loved Jeremy Irons in that. 
 
 He parked the car in front of a white house. A huge white house. Where are we, I caught myself thinking. Seems I did n't pay much attention throughout the drive. I remember looking around, left and right, to check if I could run somewhere safe if he tried something with me. All I remember was seeing other huge houses with vast, well-kept front lawns and thinking this really happens in real life? It seemed so. 
 
 That was also the last time I doubted him. 
 
 
 5 days a week after school, he would pick me up from my cafe and we would drive to this wealthy neighborhood where everybody only pretended to know their neighbors. He'd park the car as usual, and when a neighbor would talk to him, he'd engage them, albeit in his reserved manner, and I'd just walk inside the house to wait for him. Nobody has asked about me as far as I know, and not once has he introduced me. 
 
 Within the walls of his 4 bedroom house, we were always alone. He'd make me a snack while I kill time doing something else ( sometimes I browse his library, sometimes I watch him cook ), and then we'd proceed to what he invited me here for in the first place. 
 
 There's an empty room at the back of the house that had floor to ceiling glass windows. It was his office back in the day, he said. Our footsteps echoed in there, but I liked that room because in the afternoon it's warm from facing the setting sun. 
 
 I'd take off my shoes and lie on the queen sized bed in the middle of the room. He'd sit on the fat leather couch beside it. When I've positioned myself properly, he'd lean forward and start stroking my hair until I fell asleep. 
 
 And that was it. 
 
 He'd just sit there, watching me nap for an hour and a half, and then at the hour exactly, he'd wake me. I felt safe. I felt warm and cared for every time. I felt loved. 
 
 He never touched me, which at times I wished he did. He rarely talked, too, but we were comfortable in each other's silence. His eyes were always telling enough. 
 
 
 His pale blue eyes. 
 
 
 I do n't know why he chose me, and maybe now I will never know. I've been sitting at my usual spot waiting for him to pick me up, but for about a week now, he has n't shown up. I've finished reading Lolita in the week he did n't come, the book I put on hold when I met him. 
 
 Maybe he mistook somebody else as me, maybe he's forgotten about me ( he's old, after all ). It's been a week and I'm starting to really miss him, that's all. 
 
 
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 [ [ I've always wanted to write about this type of relationship. I've been typing this out on my phone all day in between break times, so if I have typos and grammatical errors, please point them out. Thanks! ] ]
