1:48 am. I just got home. I saw you there. You have no idea how beautiful you are to me. Do you even know who I am? Dressed in all black, with your typical posse of people there. I don't know if you kept looking over at me as I danced. I felt your eyes on me, they helped put me in the "zone".
I was dripping sweat, and all I could think about is the heat... think about how your mouth would taste - what was it you were drinking? Would it mix with my Bacardi? You smelled like lemons. I'm not sure what it is about you. You're tall, your shoulders are wicked, I would feel small in your arms. I heard your voice tonight. I touched you three times... three times while we were dancing, next to each other, in the same bubble... did you touch me on purpose?
Why can't I just say "hi?" One syllable, and I'm paralyzed at the thought of it. How retarded! I hate it that I'm so shy around you. If I didn't have to drive home I could drink enough that it would put me over the edge, I would get "over it" and finally talk to you. Then at least I would know if the spark was mutual. It's getting ridiculous. I want to know you. I want to know how you smell. I want to know if we connect. We may not have anything, but you move me in a way that I haven't felt in a while, and yet I'm not sure why! I missed my turn driving home down Burnside as I was thinking about tonight on the way home.
I feel like I'm back in high school, trying to get the popular boy to notice me. So do you?
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