Iglanced at you from the opposite end of the couch. You had dozed off during the movie. Your head rested on your left hand, your arm crooked upward to hold yourself upright. The TV screen in your living room’s bluish glow illuminated your face, highlighting your peaceful slumbering face.
God, you were just so cute. I couldn’t stand it.
I kind of wanted to cover you with a blanket, an uncharacteristically maternal gesture on my part.
An even bigger part of me wanted to kiss you. But let’s be honest, I pretty much always wanted to kiss you. I thought about it all the time: when I was sitting in class bored out of my mind, when I was up late typing out a term paper, when you looked at me with that impish grin…
I especially thought about it when I was alone at night, lying on the cheap mattress in my darkened room, my iPod blasting in my ears. I would listen to “Alone” by Heart wishing that I could “touch your lips and hold you tight.” I would listen to Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is” and hope that one day I, too, would get to “see love shine.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if you were lying in your own bed thinking about me, too.
You stirred, coming out of your catnap.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
Your eyes slowly fluttered open.
“Mmmmm,” you said sleepily. “Did I just sleep through the entire movie?”
“Yes,” I heard myself reply. “But it’s not like we haven’t seen this hundreds of times already.”
You loudly yawned, straightening yourself into an upright position, stretching life back into your body. “That’s true.”
You finally looked at me. Your lips curl into one of those impish smiles that I can’t get enough of. Once again, I feel my breath catch in my throat.
Damn it, why must you have this effect on me?
Why do you have to be so damn cute that I can’t just relax and be myself around you?
Also, was that an inviting look in your eyes or was I just imagining it?
“It’s getting kind of late,” you said casually. “What do you want to do?”
You positioned yourself closer to me. Every nerve ending in my body screamed as I felt your aura.
I didn’t answer, unable to find my words.
Then you placed your hand on my leg.
On the surface, this was a friendly gesture. I knew you well enough to know that you are a casual toucher, always putting your hand on my arm as we chatted, playfully pushing me as we ribbed each other, tucking my tag back into my shirt when it stuck out.
This time, however, I knew that this wasn’t just a friendly vibe. It was an invitation.
My heart stopped.
This was it. You were officially making a move. This was what I had been wanting for so long, the moment I had been building up in my mind all those nights as I lay awake listening to love songs from the decade I was born.
I had been waiting for this exact moment for weeks.
And now that the moment arrived… all I felt was total panic rip through me.
What was happening? What were we doing? Was I really ready to ruin our friendship for good by letting you in? What if you thought I was a bad kisser? What if you could still taste the burrito I had eaten earlier that evening?
“I have to pee!” I blurted out, jerking away from your touch.
I jumped up like the couch was on fire and scrambled to the bathroom down the hall, tripping over my own feet on the way there.
Suave.
I stood in the bathroom without bothering to turn on the light, swallowing mouthfuls of air.
What the hell? Why did I do that?
What was wrong with me?!
“Get it together, you pansy,” I whispered to myself, leaning against the bathroom door. “You can do this. Calm down.”
I went back out several minutes later when my heart finally stopped pounding.
You weren’t there. The TV was off. The cups we had been drinking from were no longer on the coffee table.
I glanced in the direction of your bedroom. Your door was closed; when I saw the small strip of light peeking out from under the door, I knew that meant you were on the other side of it.
You almost never shut the door when I was there.
I was crushed. I had my chance with you and, thanks to my nerves, I completely blew it by running away.
I thought for a brief moment about knocking on the door and begging for forgiveness. I’m sorry — I don’t know what came over me. I want to kiss you, I swear. I just panicked.
But in the back of my mind, I knew that it was pointless.
I had left you feeling hurt and humiliated. You very clearly gave me the green light, and my dumb ass responded by running away.
I felt a lump forming in my throat as I turned and showed myself out.
It wasn’t even just the fact that I screwed everything up. It was also the fact that you wouldn’t even stick around to say goodbye.
That hurt even more than the rejection itself.
You wouldn’t even look at me the next time we crossed paths.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Alejandra Quiroz on Unsplash