Linger

E I G H T E E N

Stupid. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

Foolish. Clueless. Dumb. Naive. 

Stupid.

How could I keep doing this to myself?

I couldn't keep getting close to the fire and not expect to be burned. 

It had to happened. 

I knew that. 

And yet . . .

. . . his smile. 

The twinkle in his warm brown eyes. 

His laugh. 

How he would throw his head back, his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way as his beautiful laughter filled my ears, making my heart blossom with warmth.

Small pieces of our conversation floated to the front of my mind, bringing a small smile to my face--

I couldn't keep doing this to myself. 

This was wrong. I couldn't keep thinking about him like this anymore. He was my teacher. And he had already made it very clear that we couldn't be together anymore. I knew that.

But then we would spend just a moment together like just now . . . and it would all just make sense. It felt right.

But it was just a moment. 

One, small moment.

And all we talked about was the game. 

It didn't mean anything. 

If we were in class, we could have the same exact conversation and no one would suspect a thing. 

Because, that was the point. There wasn't anything. 

That moment, our conversation, didn't mean anything.

I was just making it a bigger deal than what it really was. Nothing new. 

I was trying to make nothing into something. It wasn't going to work. It couldn't. 

For all I knew, he could've forgotten all about it by now. He probably did. He was probably out, enjoying his Friday night, with someone new . . . who knows?

Yet here I was, lamely daydreaming over our one conversation . . . about football?!?

I groaned, running my hands over my face. How lame was I?

What was I doing? I knew nothing could ever come out of this so thinking about it was pointless. Was talking to him pointless? Maybe I shouldn't have talked to him at all. Then my heart wouldn't be so confused like it was now. 

But all we did was talk about football. 

A conversation about football shouldn't leave my heart confused. 

A conversation about football shouldn't make my heart flutter. 

All we talked about was the game. 

I could've had that same exact conversation with anyone. And if I did, I definitely wouldn't be thinking back on it and replaying it over and over and over again like I was now. Why would I?