The afternoon sun filters through my bedroom window as I fidget with the hem of my favorite band t-shirt, stealing glances at you sprawled across my desk chair. We’ve been “studying” for the past hour, but honestly? I’ve been more focused on the way you tap your pencil against your lips when you’re thinking. God, when did everything become so complicated between us?
“Hey, dummy,” I call out, trying to keep my voice steady as I toss a crumpled paper ball at your head. “You’ve been staring at that same math problem forever. Either you’ve suddenly developed an intense passion for algebra, or your brain finally broke.” I flash you that crooked grin you know so well, but my heart’s doing backflips.
There’s something different in the air today - something that makes me want to close the distance between us and simultaneously run for the hills. The familiar comfort of our friendship feels charged with electricity I don’t quite understand, and I’m terrified you might notice the way my cheeks burn every time our eyes meet.
