captivated

She called me today and asked if we could hang out. She seemed a little down, so I made the 30 minute drive to her house. It's nothing special. It's small, has 2 bedrooms, one bathroom, it's old, and it smells like vanilla and Lysol. It's hidden in the middle of nowhere in the country, but it's what she can afford, though I've tried numerous times to get her to move in with me. The welsh corgi puppy I got her for her birthday was at the door, waiting to greet me. She named him Beowoof, "Bay" for short. I didn't have to wait for her long. She came out of her bedroom tying her hair in a high in a ponytail. She was wearing shorts for a change, but she still had on one of those damn plaid shirts that I love so much. I could tell she was wearing a swimsuit underneath it all. She grabbed her purse off of the couch and followed me back to my jeep.

She told me she wanted to go to the creek so we could talk. She's having boy troubles again. Her current love interest works at our favorite coffee shop, and he's clearly after one thing. And she's not stupid. She knows this. But she can't help it. She's really into him, but he barely bats an eye at her.

On one hand, I'm hurt, because once again, I have to listen about how much she cares for a man that is not myself. On the other hand, I'm outraged. He should be jumping at the chance to be with her. She's beautiful, she's smart, she's funny. She is everything I've ever wanted. And he has the nerve to think he can do better.

We got to the creek and she stripped down to the swimsuit I caught a vague glimpse of beforehand. A one-piece. How modest she is. I watched her jump several times from the tire-swing that hangs from the large oak tree right on the bank of the creek. She asked me several times to join in. I declined each time. I would much rather watch her than be distracted by my own fun. After about an hour, she pulled out the beach towel she had in her ridiculously large purse. She laid on it under the oak and I sat next to her.

She started to explain about Mr. Coffee Shop, and how he'd asked for her number after seeing her so many times and never knowing her name. She said they'd hung out before and, after a while, she started caring for him. She told him about her feelings, and she explained how awkward he looked when she told him. He apparently fidgeted for a little while and told her he didn't think it was a good idea. That he liked her, but not like that. She asked him if it would have been different if she'd "put out." He changed the subject and dismissed the comment.

She started crying again, and I couldn't do anything but hold her. She was still wet from her swim in the creek, and this May breeze made her cold to the touch. For as long as I live, I will always be there to hold her and listen when she's upset. She sobbed about how much she loves me and how she's so sorry for everything she puts me through. How she values our friendship, and how she wouldn't risk it for anything in the world. In other words, how she puts a knife in my heart every day and twists it. And like a sick masochist, I welcome it, because I love her. And of course she'll never know. I couldn't do that to her. She kissed me on the cheek after it was all said and done, and I wanted to grab her face and ruin her pretty little lips with my own.

Instead, I kissed her forehead and led her back to the jeep. She apologized for crying, and promised to take me out to eat later tonight. She'll be here in a half an hour, actually. I am slowly going insane. I hate her for what she does to me, but I love her for those same reasons. I hate/love how she makes my chest feel like lead and air at the same time. I hate/love how much I want to kiss her when she's close to me. I hate/love how all I can do is think of her when she's away from me. I hate/love how many little things I notice about her. I hate/love how my breath hitches every single time I see her smile. I'm looking in my mirror and I wonder, maybe this is what crazy looks like.

I am captivated in her presence, and crippled in her absence.