(no subject)
She sat there thinking about him, trying not to. Not him. He couldn’t be the one on her mind, the one she wanted. They were just friends. He didn’t see her that way.
She longed to hear him describe her as beautiful or attractive or gorgeous like he said about all the other ones. She was beautiful. She was. She believed it, saw the beauty within herself. It had taken her a long time to get there, a lot of self-doubt and self-hatred along the way. But she wasn’t like that anymore. She saw how beautiful she was now. She wanted to believe he saw it to, that he just wasn’t saying it.
Stupid jealousy. She hated that she got jealous. Espeically over dumb things. Over his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Over the way he talked about other girls. Over the girls he’d been with. She wanted to be with him. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d always wanted to be with him, ever since she met him. She highly doubted he felt the same way.
That wasn’t true. She’d had glimpses of him feeling the same way. A look in his direction met with startled eyes that quickly turned away. Eyes that had been staring at her. There were moments between them. Moments other people had commented on. Things between them that other people sensed. What other people sensed doesn’t matter all that much, but it made her feel less crazy. She wasn’t the only one who saw it. That thing between them. It was there. You can’t make that kind of feeling out of nothing.
Her legs slipped over his. His arm casually draped around her shoulders. A piggy back ride across a puddle of mud. A snide comment from his mouth just to get a poke from her fingers.
At first there had been another girl. For a long time there had been another girl. She always thought he deserved better than this other girl. The other girl was gone now. Not coming back into his life. She didn’t think this would make her want him again. But she did. She wanted him. And he had no idea.
They were friends. Friends. She didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
If she kept thinking like this and not telling him, she’d lose him anyway. Eventually. And he’d never know why.
She couldn’t tell him. Not now.
She longed to hear him describe her as beautiful or attractive or gorgeous like he said about all the other ones. She was beautiful. She was. She believed it, saw the beauty within herself. It had taken her a long time to get there, a lot of self-doubt and self-hatred along the way. But she wasn’t like that anymore. She saw how beautiful she was now. She wanted to believe he saw it to, that he just wasn’t saying it.
Stupid jealousy. She hated that she got jealous. Espeically over dumb things. Over his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Over the way he talked about other girls. Over the girls he’d been with. She wanted to be with him. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d always wanted to be with him, ever since she met him. She highly doubted he felt the same way.
That wasn’t true. She’d had glimpses of him feeling the same way. A look in his direction met with startled eyes that quickly turned away. Eyes that had been staring at her. There were moments between them. Moments other people had commented on. Things between them that other people sensed. What other people sensed doesn’t matter all that much, but it made her feel less crazy. She wasn’t the only one who saw it. That thing between them. It was there. You can’t make that kind of feeling out of nothing.
Her legs slipped over his. His arm casually draped around her shoulders. A piggy back ride across a puddle of mud. A snide comment from his mouth just to get a poke from her fingers.
At first there had been another girl. For a long time there had been another girl. She always thought he deserved better than this other girl. The other girl was gone now. Not coming back into his life. She didn’t think this would make her want him again. But she did. She wanted him. And he had no idea.
They were friends. Friends. She didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
If she kept thinking like this and not telling him, she’d lose him anyway. Eventually. And he’d never know why.
She couldn’t tell him. Not now.