I feel like a dog, following you up the stairs of your house. I can almost see the nervous tension between us, mostly emanating from me. You know something is up, something is going to happen. We get into your room; you pick up two pillows and turn to face me. I'm just standing there, arms crossed and leaning in the doorway. I take a few steps forward and look into your eyes, my heart is pounding and I imagine saying what I've wanted to say to you since the first day I met you: "Every time you look at me with your dark, brown, beautiful eyes, my heart turns to butter and all I want is to run up and kiss you and hold you and never let you go."

But of course, I don't say that, instead, I manage a weak: "Will you go out with me?" As soon as I finish the last syllable, I know what your answer is, because of your eyes growing sad and falling down towards the floor. Along with your eyes, my heart drops too.

Now I'm sitting here on the cold leather chair in the dark of your living room. My eyes are closed and my head is resting against the headrest. Six words are running in and out of my head: "Can I talk to you later?"

Torture.

Cruel and unusual punishment.

I lay back and listen to the rustling and giggling coming out of the other room where our other two friends are. My best friend, and your best friend. What I wouldn't give for that to be us, under the purple and white blankets of our cushion fort. Great, well it's good to know at least someone is getting some...

I notice your front door right next to where they're lying, so welcoming, asking to be jumped out of. Into the night, under the stars and the moon. Freedom. The expressions on their faces would be priceless, or would they even notice me leaving? I'm not sure I want to find out.

Then my attention is turned upstairs, almost directly above me; the sound of water running and hitting the white porcelain of your shower floor.

I close my eyes and wonder what could be going on in your head right now. Maybe franticly thinking of something to say to me. "Can I talk to you later?" What is that supposed to mean? Nothing good, I'm sure. But I still find myself desperately hoping for the opposite of what I'm almost positive you'll say.

Wait. I don't deserve this. This is NOT how this is supposed to turn out. We've been so awesome together; a few hours ago I was almost positive you would say yes to me. What happened? That night I took you to the dance was so perfect; I thought that was just the beginning of something beautiful. We held hands and you even spent the night in my arms. Now I feel cheated, is this karma? I don't know, but nothing I ever did in my life could justify this, justify losing you.

Now the water has stopped. I hear you walk from the bathroom to your room. Maybe you made up your mind as you're up there getting dressed.

This is it.

You come down through the kitchen and see me sitting in the chair. Our eyes avoid each other, until finally, I can't take it anymore and I have to get up. I slowly walk over to your counter and lean against it. You're still looking for an imaginary something in the pantry. You turn to face me and our eyes meet. My heart turns to butter and I can barely stand to stare into your beautiful eyes. I know right then, that I would never be able to stay mad at you. I see a spark in there, deep, but reachable. Then you take me by the hand and ask me if I'm ready to talk now. I can't take my eyes off the spark, and I know that to be with you, I would do anything to reach it.