She is like the music she’s dancing to. Soft and elegant yet moving something deep within her – igniting something primitive in me. No, not like that, you perv. I just mean that I really, really like her but there’s nothing I can do about it. I watch her all the time, not in a creepy way (at least I hope it’s not creepy), I just like to look at her, the way she moves and smiles, the way she makes huge gestures with her hands when explaining the simplest thing and misuses the word ‘literally’. I just love everything about her.
I didn’t know she was going to be here tonight, I didn’t think she even knew Stephen but here she is, at his party. She’s at my best mate’s party, and she knows who I am, that’s got to count for something, right?
Who am I kidding? She’d never go for me, she would want someone tall and muscular and…manly. She would want a man. I can’t be that.
There she goes again, hands in the air, waving about while her seemingly soft lips part and meet again, allowing the sounds of her mind to pour out.
I can see that glint in her eyes, she likes him. He leans in to her, getting closer, she looks up at him, drink in one hand, the back of his neck in the other. They kiss. They’re still kissing. They’re not stopping. I can’t watch this. I need to leave. Why do I always do this to myself?
So I curl up in my bed and stare at the wall, like an utter pillock. Knowing that I’m going to repeat this cycle again, of falling for a straight girl, having to watch her with some guy and deal with only ever being her friend. Maybe not even that, but never anything more.