Why did you hold me like that, if it meant nothing to you? Why did you ask me about Shakespeare, and talk about nothing, and put up with my drunken antics? Why did you smile as you opened my door, and let me follow you in from the hallway? Why did you look at me like that and smile at my slightly slurred speech?
I was drunk just for fun and everyone on my floor was doing math homework. I was led upstairs at the promise of an adventure. I was brought into your room and I was so happy. I love it when you smile. I love being around you. You make me feel safe and secure and giddy. I trust you when I’m drunk because you carried me to bed once and I feel asleep smiling.
But it was that night that caused the most confusion and sent my mind on a torment of thoughts of you. It was sitting on the end of my bed, the two of us, my head on your shoulder and your hand on my knee. I felt so perfectly wonderful. Normal. I wanted to kiss you that night. But Shazeen walked in without knocking and, oblivious to everything, talked forever about nothing of the slightest importance.
And at this point I was getting sleepy, the alcohol pulling my mind into slumber. And it was nice to stay like that, my head on your shoulder, you asking me if I wanted you to put me in bed, my denial. I wanted to stay like that forever. And when Shazeen finally left, I wanted to kiss you so badly but the moment had passed and I was on the brink of sleep and you had to leave. And I drunkenly asked you to stay and I kissed you on the cheek and you gave me that knowing smile and held me for a second longer and then left, whispering goodbye over your shoulder.
Maybe you think I don’t remember. I acted so normal the rest of the week, not because it meant nothing to me but because I don’t know how to act when I’m sober. The rules have changed.
I’m a coward when I’m sober. I can’t blame my ignorance and nervousness on liquor. I wish I could tell you but there’s no way to do that without sounding desperate. But I think you know how I feel about you. You see it when I’m drunk. Like that one Friday when I was going out and you were staying in. My group was waiting on a few more people and we were killing time in the stairwell, our only concern was to keep our buzz going the whole metro ride there. I must have been acting giddy because you flashed me that knowing smile and laughed. And inside my chest my heart smiled too, and beat faster at how your eyes shone, your beautiful brown eyes.
And I could take all the words that I know and even borrow someone else’s and I still wouldn’t be able to accurately describe how much I want you.
I might fall in love with you.
How crazy is that?
