he raises a dark brow, and you are undone.
words clash-- bickering, each wanting to sound first, producing halted stutters, disjointed sentences. you feel a halfwit; your demure charm darted away when reached for, when needed most. you’re suddenly aware of how very vagrant the tangled, unrestrained tresses skimming your cheek must look. you sweep them behind your flushed ears, yearning to be the girl brushing by, with her sophisticated burgundy nails and slender form.
but your vexation brings out his cheeky grin, and you notice that, to your own great incredulity, you don’t mind your aberrant behavior all that much. you will play the halfwit, if needs be. because, oh, hell, when that smile is thrown, the game is over. raise the white flag. and surely as you knew, out they come: babbling words, senseless syllables piling until you topple them, casting your last rag of dignity atop. anything for him to give another donation from the gods.
you are devoted to the cause of the smile.
and for now, that’s enough. it’s enough to seek a dimpled remark and nothing more. it’s the seeking that is a small victory for you – slowly learning to unlatch what was taboo.. to instill the want again.
for now, want is your want.
because, for now,
the possibility of the desire is more enticing than love itself.