[Won't Go Home Without You - Maroon 5]
"Every night you cry yourself to sleep
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"
The night didn't seem to end. I saw you again that night, Ian. Little did you know that I was relieved that I saw a familiar face. I was tired of feeling new in this town and I wanted to feel old, like I belonged, and once I finally got to know you, I didn't feel so new. I felt like I lived here for a while and that we knew eachother since forever, and it was scary and it felt refreshing.
But that's not what really happened. Did it, Ian? No.
As you saw me walk into that café your head turned. Your friends pointing out a new face.
I saw you. And I saw him too. And although you were the only blue eyes in the swarm of green, you were the most evil. The most deceiving.
I hadn't known that before, but I do now.
Lily particularly stood out to me. Not because she was the only girl in the little group of boys, sitting at a booth at Clifton's Freezery, but because her hair looked of honey, and I was sure that it smelt of it, too. It looked smooth and soft, something that my hair couldn't offer. Something I wasn't blessed with.
I had ordered a strawberry milkshake, something that seemed to be a big deal, seeing that everyone here had one sitting at their booth. Everyone of course, except for you.
I remember slipping into a booth alone, right behind from where you were sitting. Not because I wanted to, but because it was the only available booth that wasn't vacant on this Tuesday night.
You were sitting directly behind me, and it was coincidental that I saw you again. No one saw a strangers face twice, but I didn't realize that this town was small enough that you saw familiar faces more frequently than you'd like.
I was in the midst of finishing my drink, when your group stood up and left. You hadn't looked back at me, when walking out the door. My stomach churned when you came back inside and started walking towards me.
Of course you weren't coming back for me, you had forgotten your sweatshirt, offering me a curt smile as you walked past me.
Must I admit that I was disappointed that you didn't strike a conversation with me, only smiling but not speaking, because your southern accent sounded different than the ones from back home, and I wanted to hear it again.
