It’s driving me crazy. Completely insane. My fingers are itching. My feet are dancing. My heart is racing. My eyes are wandering.
It’s driving me crazy. This closeness. So close. Too close and still too far away. I pick up a pen just to give my fingers something to do. Keep them distracted. I can’t trust them with you this close. I see your hand resting on the table and my hand instinctively gravitates towards you. Like it were the only logical thing to do. Like it had the right to. No right and nothing logical about it. I barely even know your name.
What I do know are your eyes. Every chance I get, I’m drowning in them. Willingly and longingly. Green and not unlike a summer’s day. I know your movements, like how you shift around nervously before you speak up in class. How you lean back when you get ready to take your hoodie of because it’s always too warm for you, even after I open the window. I know how you look when you think of something else and don’t listen to the professor anymore. I know when the class is about to end just by feeling your body getting slightly tense, as if you were constantly afraid of running late. I don’t know where you are off to, but yesterday I learnt that you’re taking your bike after class. We walked a short distance together and I smiled good-bye. You did, too.
I know your voice. It’s tinted with nervousness when you speak up in class and I can tell that you seek the professor’s approval. It’s soft when you speak to your neighbor. Yesterday we spoke for the first time. Whispered comments and I even moved closer to you when you asked me to help you out with something. I was dangerously close and it took everything I had to move away from you again.
Can you tell that I gravitate towards you? I can’t explain it. You simply pull me in and I find myself thinking about touching you. Your hand. Your hair. Your everything.
Week after week, we sit next to each other and I wonder. I wonder about your thoughts. I wonder if you’re fighting the same urge. I wonder what it would feel like to finally touch you. I wonder. And I’ll keep wondering.
© Martina Braunegger 2021-11-20