Boring it was that Christmas evening. My phone had nothing to interest me. So I turned away from my boredom and looked out.
He stood there with that aura of gentleness surrounding him. I stared at that figure, something about him made me giddy. I wanted him to look at me but he walked away like the breeze took him.
My mind was all about him. My heart was crazy for him. I smiled once and he looked at me with his brown eyes, we stopped for a moment, he turned away expressionless as if I was thin air.
I wanted more, my mind whirlwind of his thought. I was yearned for it, he was my first love, I wished it could gulp me in my thoughts all about him.
When he smiled once, not at me but my brother, it made me weak. Had I not sat in the car, maybe I would have fainted. When he ruffled his curly hair, it made him look more like a Greek God.
I wish I had the courage to speak to him and confess my feelings. I wish I could talk to him so he could smile looking at me. I want to lose myself in that craziness.
He is my first love, I don't want rejection. I'm scared of heartbreak, that pain I can't endure it. So I let myself lose in my craziness for him. Just for him I think I could lose myself. Just for him.
YOU ARE READING
Playing With Fire
Short Story❝I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.❞ ―Oscar Wilde A place where broken hearts reside and stories behind them. . .
