Wanting to be wanted
I never noticed how handsome he was until that night when he smiled at me with his awkward boyishness, the kind where his freckles and the corners of his mouth stretch up to the sky. It was then when I noticed the glimmer in his eyes as he looked at me, and then looked down and then tugged at his navy blue polo and shifted in his khaki pants. I walked to where he was standing and he instantly tensed up. I could tell he held his breath as I coyly looked down and smiled, but when I looked up, he looked at me with tremendous honesty that made me think about his actual feelings towards me and our friendship. I couldn’t resist being shocked and gasp when he said “hey” and extended his arms toward mine for a casual “friend” hug. After this brief encounter with our feelings, we chatted about politics and weather, about sports and our drama club, which was the usual conversation among any teenager who just wanted to talk to someone, who just wanted to be wanted.
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