you & i

three » perfect square

dear infinity,

you were perfect tonight. you're always perfect, anyway.

i was so nervous all day. i think my sisters could tell, but they didn't say anything because they were too busy fawning over a music album that was either released recently or is going to be released soon. i honestly can't tell.

my friends definitely knew something was going on, and they weren't afraid to ask me about it. i have to admit, it was a little embarrassing that i had to tell them that i was taking you out to go stargazing, and i hadn't even bothered to call it a date. i don't know what you consider it, but i hope you at least think it was romantic.

my friends tried to help me get ready for our "outing," which was why i was almost late to pick you up. i know you've never met them, but even a blind man can tell from afar that their fashion sense is lacking. in the end, i settled for flannel over a t-shirt and some dark jeans, but you already know that because you saw me when i picked you up.

your dad was intimidating enough, but your brother especially scared me. of course, i didn't have—and still don't have—any intention of hurting his "baby sister," but that didn't mean that his threats didn't make me almost wet my pants. i think he'd be a good overprotective dad when he grows up.

but enough about your brother. tonight—and every single moment since i met you—was about you. you looked absolutely dazzling without even trying. you are my venus, my alcyone, and i honestly couldn't believe how lucky i was to be able to spend that evening with you. (i still can't.) i almost wanted to run away because i was so intimidated, and at the same time i almost wanted to run to you because i wanted to kiss you like our lives depended on it. (i still don't know if it could be considered a date, though.) however, i stayed rooted to my spot, partially because i literally couldn't move a muscle and partially because your brother was gripping my shoulder so hard that i think it's bruised now.

i knew that these things didn't really matter, however, because of the effect you have on me. an infinite number of thoughts were racing through my mind, but i couldn't think a single one of them.

when we arrived at my favorite stargazing spot, i had already flubbed at conversation, asking you the same questions about art that i'd asked you on the day we met. i'm glad you were smart enough to keep the conversation going past the topic of kandinsky, though he is a fascinating character, in my opinion.

while i set up the telescope and searched for venus in the sky, you mentioned how cold it was, and my first instinct was not to offer you my flannel but to ask if you had brought a jacket. (i'm sorry.) after a minute, i did manage to get it right and give you my flannel shirt, but i have to admit—it was freezing. once i had gotten the telescope set up, you offered to cuddle up with me so we could share the flannel, and i had the sense to take you up on that offer, except that i replaced the flannel with the windbreaker that i'd tossed in the back seat of my car.

i chattered into your ear some facts about venus that you probably didn't need to or didn't want to know, but you, being the perfect soul that you are, humored me and kept the conversation alive beyond pointless facts and scientific guesses. i think i amused you with my rambling, but the fact that i was sharing your body heat was far too unnerving for me to really notice.

then i ran out of things to say, and you laid the conversation to rest. i suppose the most romantic thing i could have done was let us settle into a comfortable silence, but the peace and the quiet and the proximity became all too much for me all too quickly, and i jumped away with the excuse that i was far too warm. the moment i moved, however, i instantly regretted it, but there was no turning back at that point. i shivered in silence, wishing i'd had more luck in the charm department, when you reached out and laced your fingers with mine.

and for a full hour and forty minutes, we did nothing but admire the starlit sky.

sincerely,
beyond