he would approach her casually, his presence would fill the void of the adjacent vacant seat. he would look effortlessly lovely, crisp white pop classic acne shirt, rolled shorts and loafers. they would laugh at the coincidentally similar outfits and he would order a glass of water. they would engage in small talk before he decides to sweep her off her feet. she would, willingly. they would walk to his parked car, he would open the door for her. they would drive to bondi and would stroll casually along the strip, stopping at the market stalls. he would buy her a small thin metal bracelet with a skull. she would adore it. they would walk past a photobooth and he would pull her in, she hesitant and embarrassed but that doesn't matter. he would tell her a funny story and she would honestly cackle, internally hoping the day would slow down because each minute means a minute closer to the end of this moment.
they would reach the beach, sit on the towel and talk. about the deeper things in life; the people they loved, the people they lost; who they want to be, what they want to see, which beatle was the best, their favourite scrubs episode, why they hate and adore courtney love, the last time they were drunk, everything but what they mean to each other. then there would be a silence, and they would stare at the sky and know, without it being spoken, that right now is enough. she would ruin the moment by taking a photo of him. he would complain but secretly love it. he'll ask if she's hungry, she would say yes. they would pack up and head to leichardt for some italian and gelato, all this time she would be singing to beyonce ridiculously loud.
after a feast, they would walk along the forum before deciding to drop by adriano zumbo for some takeaway macarons. they would feel tired so he would take her back to his place. they would power nap on the couch conveniently located on the rooftop. they would stir soon after to find it is almost dinner time. still slightly full, they decide to visit the local supermarket to purchase alcohol and ingredients for a salad. she would buy the salad, he the alcohol. they would return home and commence festivities with some delicious rekordlig. they would "cook" together, making reference to hilarious moments in friends. after a light dinner they would eat macarons together followed by more rekordlig. as they wait for their friends to make an appearance. they head to the rooftop, pop open the moscato, turn the music onto a light hum, light a few cigarettes and talk. this time he is brave enough to let her into that complicated heart of his. she would be surprised yet privileged. he would confess how he really felt. she would reciprocate. they would hold hands until she ruins the moment again with her awkwardness. he would laugh knowing very well the moment was bound to happen sooner or later. they would lift their moscatos up to the summer air and dance along to the pleasant jumble of the smiths, U2, temper trap and lauren hill.
soon the noise of the troops would fill the romantic lull. the close friends and favourites would come armed with ingredients for cocktails, more music, weed, and movies. the rest of the night would be spent in their company. he would thank her for today. she would say thank you too. it would be 2am. she would be tired. she would whisper in his ear, i'm going to bed. and he would subconsciously follow. they would awake the next day, with a panadol and glass of peach sencha. he would tell her she looks the most beautiful right now. she would say he was lying but thank you anyway.
love,
ps. she sorted. day sorted. he still pending.
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