Chasm

As I leaned tentatively on the front of your car, I wondered what exactly I was doing at your house. A chilly wind rustled the stiff material of my jacket as I looked down at my feet in a vain attempt to gather my thoughts. When I heard the front door creak slowly open, my fist clenched tighter around the notes that were my pathetic excuse to see you. I took a deep breath and braced myself for whatever was about to happen.

I waited patiently as you spoke to your grandma about your plans for the night. I trained my eyes on my silver sandals again, praying to a God I don't believe in to grant me an attitude of nonchalance. Then suddenly, you were walking toward me, without looking at me, I might add, and all too soon you were standing not two feet from me. As I looked up to meet your eyes and give you a warm smile that I have been saving for over a month now, I was surprised to feel my stomach tighten with pleasure. My cheeks felt warm, as did the rest of my body, and just then the wind ceased its incessant prickling at my exposed hands and neck. I didn't know how much I missed you until that moment.

Our exchange was brief and uneventful, for the most part. You told me I looked cute, and that as much as you wanted to kiss me, you couldn't, due to the fact that you had a cold sore and that your grandma was probably watching us through the panes of frosted glass surrounding your front door. I told you that was probably better anyway, since I'm sick; you laughed, eyes sparkling, and said that you are, too.

There was a brief lull in conversation, as there always seems to be whenever we actually talk. You smiled at me crookedly, and said you really had to go, you had friends waiting. I smiled back and said that I did, too, and you gave me a one-armed hug. On the short walk to my car, I wondered what the hell just happened, and why I did nothing to stop it. Why didn't I just say what I wanted to say??