I wanted to tell her that I liked her more than I had let on, just when she said she didn’t believe there was someone for everyone while glancing at me sideways. That must have been the second most awkward moment of the night, after our casual greeting at the entrance. The truth is, the evening wasn’t shaping up as I had hoped. We agreed to meet the next night after my outburst, where I confessed to her in a message that she drove me crazy, and so far we haven’t been able to talk. Some «friends» had our backs at the bar, and the conversation made me hallucinate and see hints where there weren’t any.
Every minute I am more worried and distressed, in the end, we’ve seen each other thousands of times, but well… there are few times when you fully open up to a person and risk it all, and there she was calmly finishing her gin and tonic and joking with friends, and I’m wondering, «What does the judge say? What’s the verdict?» I try to hide it, come on, lack of confidence and anxiety aren’t sexy. I smile from time to time and try to make eye contact, but my hands are sweating, and I feel like everyone knows I’m not having a good time. How can uncertainty about a reciprocated feeling be so suffocating? In the end, what you feel is what counts, right?
I down my beer in one gulp.
«I’m going to the bathroom!» I say loudly as I move away from the bar. Walking back through the crowd, I feel suffocated, and claustrophobic.
«This was all a bad idea,» I repeat to myself. The friends are gone now. Her gaze is on a half-empty glass, I sit down, our eyes meet, and she lets go of the glass and brings her hand to my shoulder. Her lips and breath are now inches from my ear. Her lips move—»I like you too,» she says. With shyness, she takes my hand and lets it go—»What are you thinking about? You seemed a little worried,» she asks.
«Nothing,» I respond with total sincerity, I can’t remember what I was thinking or what was worrying me.
Mixpov 