But it's just a little...

CRUSH.

It's just a little crush that I had on you that's why I try to gaze at you as you walk down the sidewalk, flipping your hair in that nothing-to-care-at-all fashion, with my breathing synchronized with the pace of your footsteps. It's just that stupid little crush on you that I can't help myself but stare at you as you open your lips and do your talk, with your friends, as you sit atop the table, minding no one else as you wear that happy expression. It's just that good-for-nothing little crush that I always adore you, that only God knows how happy I am to praise you after your job-well-done moment, without the very you knowing it.

Perhaps it's just that. But why do I seem to be consistently obsessed with you? Why do I try to unravel your mysteries as I continue to enter your name in search engines and find you in popular social networking sites, looking at your pictures, reading your posts, feeling your emotions? Why do I attempt to follow you as you go out the door and go anywhere you're planning to go, even though I don't know it myself? Why do I seem to be staring right at you even though I know that you have already suspected me doing it? Why do I seem to want you, to possess you, to have you right by my side at this very moment, to touch your skin, to hold your hand, to have a heartfelt conversation with you, to hug you, to caress you more, to play your hair, to lick your ears, to kiss you, to -

Could it still be just that damn little crush?

Love Apple.

You said you love the smell of tomatoes.

I was just bored. All my friends were away and I was by myself. At that moment I didn't liked being alone, as I was, sitting in the lame white wooden chair sipping my order of white hot chocolate, reading the headline story of yesterday's newspaper. Then there was you, carelessly flipping your hair as you sit at the far opposite, waiting for your cup of coffee and probably thinking what next to do after this first thing in the morning. We were the only customers at the shop, so I collected enough confidence and grabbed my mug and threw the brown-stained newspaper on my table and I walked towards you. It was surprising, though, that your eyes stayed on what you were looking at for moments ago and never even bothered to see the one coming before I asked "Could I have a seat with you?".

You weren't surprised. You just turned your head to look at me, straight into my eye as I felt it. You displayed a very wonderful smile and said "Sure.". I returned your smile and sat down at the chair next to you. I bombarded you with interesting conversations. We talked and talked, learned about each other's lives, and fell to each other's traps of capture. And I, as I honestly say, was deeply captivated by you.

It was noon when we just stared at each other, and after realizing what we were doing we just smiled and laughed at ourselves. I said "Oh, it's nearly noon! Do you want to have lunch at my place?" and you said "Why, sure! I certainly miss home-cooked food since I moved here!" and I said "Alright then." and I, smiling, stood and took your hand and opened the passenger-seat door of my car and let you in and I got in to the driver's seat and before I could plug in the key into its hole and start the engine, you forcefully grabbed my face with both of your hands and kissed me. It was hot, your lips was. Your hands, hunting all over my body, were extremely hot too. I was unable to move probably due to shock of being kissed by a sudden acquaintance. Then you moved back. Looked down as if you were embarassed by yourself and you said "I love the smell of tomatoes.".

You said you love the smell of tomatoes.

Breach of contract.

[Hil's blog gets me inspired to write more posts. Haha.]

I already stopped loving you.

Or so I said.

Haven't we agreed on this long before? I can clearly remember it all:

No more conversations, especially at night.

No more staring in each other's eyes.

No more exclusive walks together.

No more holding hands.

No more hangouts.

No more sleepovers.

No more hugs.

No more kisses - especially French.

No more caressing.

No more foreplay.

And of course, yes, no more sex, and everything else related to that.

No more 'us'.

But then how can you explain what happened just that night?

How can you explain why you grabbed me by the hand from my sitting at the waiting shed?

How can you explain why you hugged me so tight that I felt like I don't want to ever let you go while I know inside me that I'm supposed to be on a date, meeting the girl that could be my everlasting, my wife, the one I'll be happy to be with for the rest of my life?

How can you explain why your hands travelled up my face, pulled it near yours, gazed at me for a while, and kissed me?

But then, how can I explain why I did not untangle my fingers from your clasp?

How can I explain why I hugged you back, oh so tight, that, yes, I don't want to ever let you go even though I know so consciously that I may be losing the best girl I could ever have in my life?

How can I explain why my hands travelled up and down your body and remained at your breasts, and how can I explain why I so wanted not to move my lips back but instead kiss you for what is like forever?

How can I explain why I seemed to fall in love with you again?