To N,
You may be surprised to be receiving a letter from me, I myself am surprised that I had the guts to not only write it out but actually send it (that is, if it ever reaches you).
I'll cut to the chase because I don't have much room on this paper and I have a tendency to ramble when I am nervous and I am around cute guys who amplify this feeling of -- look, I'm rambling again. Also, you've said my imagination runs wild when I'm excited.
Imagine for a second, you and I, dressed in soccer gear, on a day that is just perfect, standing on a field of grass that has been perfectly mawed, with a round black and white ball between us. We'd run around each other, both of us trying to score seriously-but also not seriously because it's only a friendly game.
You'd laugh at my lame attempts because I haven't played in years. I'd gawk--I mean admire your effortless maneuvering of the ball because you really do look best when you're enjoying yourself on the pitch.
You'd try to let me win but I'd still lose because I suck and you can't contain your talent. I'd fake being upset and you'd come comfort me. You'd laugh while trying to get a look at my face, telling me how immature but cute I was being (you do think I'm cute right? Did I imagine this part of our conversation too?). Eventually I'll give in because I can't stay angry at you - I think you're cute, this part is most definitely not in my imagination.
Now imagine, just imagine, that instead of bringing to a close our friendly match, you pull me into your arms instead of shaking my hand. You tell me so softly how I suck at soccer but you still like me anyways. You joke with me, just as you always do, but this time with a hidden meaning behind your smile.
Just as the sun is setting (because we had such a great time that we lost track), you stand in the middle of the soccer pitch with a ball between your legs and mine but instead of grabbing the ball, you choose to place my face in your hands. You hold it and laugh at how dirty I got, tumbling in the grass trying to beat you. You tell me that you like me just like this, playful and relaxed around you. Then with the golden ball of fire blazing downwards, you lean in slowly, close your eyes lightly and--
Hello? Are you still reading? I fear my imagination has gotten the best of me once again. In short, I would like to ask you out on a date similar to this. None of that other fancy stuff you were talking about, because to me, this is the perfect date. Just you, me and a ball.
Love (no, not love love, but maybe a strong like?) K xx
