There is nothing but McLachlan’s Adia in my head right now. I am trying not to think about her - that girl I've gotten to know so ridiculously well. The truth is—funny how I invariably tell the truth to myself in writing, if nowhere else—that I saw a video on YouTube tonight, randomly, with two girls standing in a bluish dim room, looking at each other. There was this excruciating tension, the way they looked at each other, with the purest kind of want you can imagine. And then one moved toward the other, and as though it was the most natural gesture in the world for both of them, they put their arms on the other’s body. They kissed the sweetest kiss. I felt like dying. I felt like if this girl I know didn’t do something soon I would implode with desire.
Of course it is probably not the case that I want this with her; most likely, I am suffering some hormonal surge and it’ll pass with a little time. It just seems that when she’s near me nowadays I can’t handle the tiny distance between us anymore. There is this wall in her emotions, shutting me out despite whatever her heart is telling her. I look at the notes in my guitar book, and she breathes next to me, her sweatshirt touching mine. I want to turn and hold her. We’ve held each other platonically so many times already – I feel farther away than ever now.
The label “FRIEND” is indelibly scrawled on my forehead, and I’ve been scrubbing and scrubbing at it and testing her and groping around in the dark but I’m caught up in the web of uncertainty. She likes me. Somehow I sense it. It’s little more than intuition, but it’s there, like a tiny siren in my head when we’re talking about our feelings or when I catch her watching me when no one’s looking. I just need some sort of indubitable confirmation and I’ll act. I’ll act.
Meanwhile, a brighteyed boy has clumsily asked me out. I have accepted a date for Friday, where we’ll awkwardly go to a movie and come back to the dorm. I don’t know how I feel, except that I wish it were her in the dark of the theatre with me, but not in the same way it’s been along. I would reach over and take her hand if I knew it wouldn’t derail our friendship and cast a cloud over our feelings. I think as it stands, my reaching for her hand would mean disaster. The boy has no idea what he’s flirting with. The girl has no idea what she’s cruelly whipping around like a Chicago windsock.
I love her more than the disgust she plants in my belly.