four times you almost kissed her and one time you did

garden moles

You've known Dahlia for a year. At this moment you don't know exactly what you two are. You visit her garden, you take her out to eat, you laugh with her, and yet you cannot call Dahlia yours. Though even if she were, you doubt she'd let you call her that.

You're sitting with her right now, it's summer and the sun is burning it's way into your skin. You're cross legged on the grass, Dahlia is squatting next to you, her attention focused on a newly blooming plot of Marigolds she planted last spring. Today her hair is down, her lips are red, her cheeks are flushed.

"Oh god," She gasped, "Come look at this."

Her petite hands point to a loose mound of soil near the stems. You question her about this.

"Rodents, the little bastards." Her frustrated stare of contemplation lasts for a moment.

"Perhaps I should grow mint? I thought I had some seeds" She spoke to herself.

You checked the shed for mint seeds without asking, she did in fact have some. You knelt beside her, tapped her shoulder, showed her the seeds.

She took them and further examined, "Well I did hear mint is a natural repellent to rodents.. And I'd prefer to stay away from chemicals this summer."

She looked up at you, both of you are kneeling and yet you are still so much larger than her. She's in close proximity to you.

"Dmitri, you know me so well."

From this distance you can see the way color shifts in her honey brown eyes, the way her pupils dilate. She's not blushing, she's sunburnt and once again not wearing the hat you got her.

Perhaps it's the heat that turns your focus to the stark contrast between her pale skin and red lips. Perhaps it's the heat that makes you wonder what those red lips would feel like against yours.

You consider the options you do not have, and before you can make a stupid decision a soccer ball flies in from over the fence. Her attention turns to that. Your chance is over.