17:27

She thinks it’s funny how nervous I get around her. She says its “cute”. I tell her I don’t know why, but it feels like an obvious reason. I know I like her; I don’t know why I would admit that to her — not the crush that I have, but that she flusters me. It doesn’t matter anyway; I blush harder near her and can’t quite look her in the eyes the way I do everyone else.

She called my smile “intoxicating”. That (when) my eyes, “big and blue”, look up at her and “shine”. I think it’s my highlighter, personally. She told me it’s like I want everyone to fall in love with me. That got me; she laughed it off and walked away, but it rings in my head and its implications made a nest there.

I know now she likes me, at least. I know I’m enough to keep her attention, have something to make her always want to drag me away, so we can be just the two of us. I think she gets jealous; I don’t know how bad she likes me but it’s enough to get her to dig her nails in my waist if we’ve been away too long and I’m talking to someone else. She’s so friendly, so, it never seems off. I don’t mind it; I like it. She knows that. I told her so after too long of a night littered with too many shots.

That night’s such a blur. I don’t remember much but of what she told me, and even then, she hasn’t told me much. She says it’s a secret, a memory she’s keeping to herself, although she never fails to tell me it was “cute”.

She uses that word a lot, with me. if I scrunch my nose, roll my eyes, get excited on her behalf (that one she really likes), if I am too scared to kill a bug and too adamant about not killing another.

She’s a step ahead of me and it scares me. She notices what I haven’t told her yet and she suggests exactly what I would, before I ever do. She is all I want and everything I am afraid to have.