You know that little burst of energy you get in your stomach when you're around or see something you like? Almost like adrenaline, but it makes you want to giggle instead of scream? You called those sensations internal explosions. And, boy, you had the WORST case of them right about then.
You sat in John's warm car as music played quietly, not sure if you wanted to scream, or laugh, or just jump out the window, but you kind of wanted to strangle Lafayette at that moment.
"So... where are you from?" asked John, trying to make small talk. You appreciated his efforts, but you didn't think anything could cure your butterflies. You scoffed. Butterflies. More like evil three-hundred pound butterflied with sledgehammers who had invaded your gut against your will.
"Minnesota," you told him. You kind of missed it there. It was really nice, having hot summers and snowy winters. Then you remembered that this was your first time ever in a car alone with a friend, alone with a guy-there was a big shortage of cute guys in your hometown-and suddenly you were glad you were in New York.
"Wow. Long flight then," He said, switching on his headlights as the sky continued to darken.
"Yeah."
"Ever been up here before?"
"Um... we had a family vacation to Boston and Maine when I was in the fifth grade, but other than that, I've never been close to here before," you said.
He paused. "So what made you choose New York?"
You were silent. You had an internal war between the part of you that wanted to trust him and the part of you that wanted him to like you.
"Come on, you can tell me," he said, grinning. You shook your head. He looked away from the road for a moment to give you puppy eyes.
Oh, HELL no.
You knew you coudln't look at him for long like that without breaking. You started sweating. Maybe you could tell him. I mean, what was the harm, right? Ugh. You wished he would stop looking at you like that. You could just tell him to get him to stop... Oh, he was SO CUTE-
"Shit!"John cried, suddenly looking ahead of him. For a split second, you thought that you had won. That was, until the car came to a sudden stop and you were thrown against the seatbelt, knocking the wind out of you for the second time that day. You doubled over.
You heard John laughing somewhere up and to the left of your head. He sighed with relief.
"Just a deer," he said. "We missed it, we're fine."
He went silent when he saw you though.
"(Y/n), are you okay?" he asked, his sweet voice now riddled with concern. You were fine, despite the tears rushing to your eyes, but you couldn't tell him that with your lack of oxygen. You were just taking a breath when you felt his hand on your back, and suddenly you couldn't breathe again. Internal explosions racked your diaphragm and you had the sudden urge to take his hand from your back and lace your fingers through his. But, thankfully, you had an ounce of self-control, and kept your hands around your midsection.
"Yeah," you said, however reluctant to break the beautiful silence of the moment. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me again."
You felt the tension leave his body as he straightened up and put the car in gear again. "Good," he said, and soon was laughing again. There he went again, being concerned, worried, and sweet one moment, and laughing the next. You loved that about him.
Your heart fluttered at the word love that passed through your inner dialouge for a moment, and you quickly shoved the work into the back of your mind. It was still there, though, and would follow you around for years to come.
"Broadway," you said as John finally parked his car. "I came to New York for Broadway."
He gave you that sweet smile you loved so much.
"That's amazing."
