The Quarterback Dilemma

Saturday 23 February

Tomorrow is Sunday. I have been lying on my bed for an hour listening to frikkin’ ‘Chasing Cars’ over and over again and I am going insane. I haven’t written in this diary for nearly a week because I don’t even dare think about certain things, let alone write them down.

So here goes, it has to be done. Last Sunday when he drove me to the lookout, when he kissed me, he did it so tenderly, so softly. When he touched me, he looked at me as if … as if I was precious. He melted into me and I melted into him, and he told me I was beautiful. I can’t have imagined it can I?

I think he has been avoiding me this week – there have been no text messages, no taunting me with The Girlfriend, no trapping me against walls. Just the occasional longing look from across a room and when I catch his eye, he quickly looks away.

I wish I could talk to someone about this. But how can I when I can’t even admit any of it to myself?

I think I must be imagining it.