Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Pride Month 2022, Writing

Dinner and A Show

You’re not going to believe this.
She took me to dinner and then we sat, nervously in the dark as a movie I didn’t much care for played.
I mean…
all of our friends came too,
but they collapsed into a blur behind us and it was nothing but me, a nervous wreck, and her, a tempest of blue eyes.
We sat together,
and as we watched two boring people fall in love on the screen,
I wondered if that would happen for me,
for her,
for us.

She scares me to death,
but I know that I’d die without her.
That is how drastic this has become,
and she only makes it worse, by making me think it isn’t just in my head.
Marking her territory with jealous glares and late night long conversations,
she tells me that I am her very best friend,
but that I can’t tell her public best friend,
because she would take it badly.

I quietly agree,
clearing my schedule, for my new bestie duties,
that include such things as constant conversations,
daydreaming about a future that always includes each other,
and planning elaborate and ridiculous home made birthday gifts for each other.

I have a horrible feeling that we are more that very best friends.
Don’t ask me why,
because I can’t explain,
but sometimes, I catch her looking at me for longer than she should,
and I recognise that look in her eyes,
because I’ve been trying to hide it for months in my own.

I say something cinematic,
in the hopes that I can fill her eyes with stars,
and just as I’d hoped,
there they go,
and here I go,
abseiling into the abyss with a stupid smile.

What the fuck does this even mean?

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