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His heart beat wildly in his chest. He was dreading the moment to come…
"I'm twenty," she finally said, and he breathed out in relief.
"Thank God," he murmured.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. I'm happy that issue is out of the way," he tried to make light of it.
"Good. Then we could set something up soon. I'll be in the country until the end of the year, so we need to do it before that."
"Why don't you go ahead and set a date and I'll make it happen," he told her, his eyes widening when he realized how eager he sounded.
From the moment she mentioned a potential meeting he'd done his best to keep his excitement under control, but it seemed he was a little too transparent.
She didn't mind it, though.
"Next week? I can do Friday afternoon. We can meet in the city since I have a class there."
This was the first time she'd mentioned any class, but Raf didn't pay too much attention, a little too happy at the turn of events to mind the details.
"There's this café we could go to. It's pretty popular and this way you shouldn't feel uncomfortable," he gave her the details, listing the features of the café and the fact that it had glass windows. You could see everything from outside, and he would take a seat right near the window. All to make sure she was comfortable with the entire set-up.
"You're really sweet, you know that?" she said in an affectionate tone, and he felt heat creep up his cheeks.
"I'll wear a violet shirt so I'm more easily recognizable. I'm pretty tall, though, so you shouldn't miss me," he went on to describe his appearance, giving her the basic details like hair and eye color, build and anything he felt might help her find him easier.
Somehow, he was reluctant to share a picture of himself, though that would be the best option. He didn't photograph that well, and he wanted her to give him a chance in real life. For some reason, he was unusually worried about his appearance and what she'd think of it.
She gave him similar details, telling him she had dark hair and brown eyes and that she was a little shorter than average.
"But really, Blue? Violet?" she chortled. "You really wear violet shirts?"
"I'll have you know they are very nice shirts," he mumbled, though a smile pulled at his lips.
"You and your fancy violet," she laughed. "Why don't you just call it purple and be done with it? It's the same thing."
"It's not," the statement came out harsher than intended, which only made Curiouscat more amused. "There are alotof differences between violet and purple," he said with a huff.
"Sorry I offended your color sensibilities, Blue. Please, enlighten me what those differences are," she made fun of him, but it was all in good humor.
"Have you heard about synesthesia?"
"Huh?"
"It's a condition where your senses are linked together. For me, all my other senses converge into taste. Sounds and colors have flavors for me."
"Wow," she breathed out. "That sounds awesome."
He proceeded to give her a rundown of hiscursedability, yet she seemed a little caught on the fact that he could taste sounds.
"So, music has flavors for you?"
"Yep. It depends. Sometimes the notes themselves have a certain flavor and sometimes it's the overall melody," he told her about his mother and the music she'd play for him growing up to test his abilities.
Curiouscat was quiet for a while as she digested the information. He got the distinct feeling that she wanted to ask more about that, but she eventually reined in the conversation back into the familiar zone.
"You didn't tell me the difference between fancy violet and purple."
