As soon as I put my phone away, I saw him running to me. This tall, lanky boy who runs like a baby giraffe has been on my mind for months. We met on a random chatting site, and we clicked instantly. And now he was here. I could hug him. I could experience him in real life.
He ran and collided into my arms, nearly knocking me over.
"Careful, Phil!" I giggled as he lifted me up and spun me before placing me gently on the ground and flashing the famous Phil smile.
"Sorry, Bear," he smiled again, "I'm just excited!"
I grabbed his hand and walked him to my apartment, mere seconds away from the train station.
We walked in and he smiled at the setup of my tiny abode. Houseplants resided in every free corner, paintings of flowers adorned the walls, and I even had my set of collectors dolls on the coffee table.
He sat down on my floral sofa (do you see the theme?) and gestured for me to sit next to him. I did, and I scooted close to him. He smelled wonderful, like vanilla and peaches, and something vaguely familiar that I couldn't quite place.
"How long will you be here?" I asked, shyly. I was totally infatuated with this boy, and yet I turn into complete mush when I try to talk to him.
"About three days," he replied, stroking an embroidered daisy on the arm of the sofa, "Why?"
"Oh no reason, just wanted to know," I blushed a brighter pink than my jumper.
~~~~~~~~
Oh no reason, just that if my parents find out that I'm gay, and that I have a boy over, they'll freak out. That's all.
What have I gotten myself into?
