That Cologne

The night was perfect. The moon was shining in our direction. Our friends were talking but all I could do was talk to you. It was strange, but it was like we were the only ones there. Your friends said you had to go, but I could tell in your brown eyes you didn't want to. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around me. The few seconds felt like light years and I didn't want to let go. Finally we did, embarassed since our friends were staring at us. We said our goodbyes, yet I couldn't get you out of my mind.

You were there later that night with those same friends. I saw you, and I know you saw me. I smiled secretively. You gave me that half grin, head nod. I walked down the street, wishing you were with me. I sighed and walked on.

Even later you were at the park, wearing that jersey. I walked past, feeling your eyes on me. I listened as you told your friends, "I'll be back." You hopped off the play structure and jogged over to me. "Hey," I said, trying to be calm. Without a word, you embraced me like earlier, only it was with more warmth and compassion that lasted for several seconds. You smelled like that cologne, the one you had on during on first hug. It makes me weak and I smile with my head resting on your shoulder, still embraced in each other's arms. I don't want to let go, but eventually I know I have to.

And then it strikes me. I let go immediately and turn to the side. I feel your curiousity but I still stand there, arms crossed and trying not to cry. "What's wrong?" you ask, wrapping your arms around my waist. I quickly step forward so you release me. "We can't do this," I say, regretting my words even though they speak truth. You're puzzled, and I turn toward you with tears in my eyes, feeling like I was five years old again, crying in the middle of a park. "You have a girlfriend, don't you?" I ask as I feel I already know the answer. You look away, fearing my eye as I impatiently wait for the answer. You let the silence hang until I can't stand it anymore. I leave with a final glance and then don't look back. You call after me, but I don't listen. Your friends are now staring as well and then look at you questioningly. I'm crying now. Every tear falling slowly down my face.

It's been a week since I have talked to you. School has started and I see you walk down the halls with your girlfriend. I try desperately for it to not bug me, but it does. We pass in the crowded hallway. You give me this sad plea and I look away. Are you happy with her? Do you hug her like you hugged me? These are the only starter question I have, but I can't bring myself to ask them aloud. I continue down the hall, wondering if you think about me too.

Thursday night. Your big game is tomorrow. I'm sitting at the bleachers with my chemistry book. It is my favorite place because I remember all the times we sat there together amd talked endlessly for hours. We sat there when it rained, cuddling in a blanket until it passed. But did you have your girlfriend then? I can't focus on the periodic table when you're on my mind. Suddenly I hear a voice yelling. Two voices now. And I know exactly who it is. It's you and your girlfriend. Why are you flighting? You're just under the bleachers so I can hear every word. "Do you like her?" she questions. I hear that uncomfortable pause that we shared before. "Yes," you answer. I gasp silently but continue to listen. "Then why don't you go out with her instead of me?" she asks. But you can't bring yourself to answer. I hear footsteps and I think you're still standing there, alone. Why don't you call after her like you did me?

It's Friday night. I can't believe I am at your game. I debated with myself all night last night. And yet, I am here. Wearing that jacket you gave me to wear when it was cold. And it smells like that cologne I love. I see you on the field, wearing number 7. It happens to be my favorite number. You seem so out of it, like you don't remember how to play. I'm watching. You missed the block. The crowd goes "Ohhhhhh." The whistle blows and it's half time. The team is running off the field and you see me. You watch me as you run to the locker room. I don't know how to feel.

You seem to be playing better this quarter. I wonder if it's because of me. My friends all notice the same thing and annoy me to tell them what happened. How can I when I don't know for myself? The game is nearly ending and we're ahead at least 20 points. I grab my stuff and begin to leave. I am standing next to the field goal and your team is facing this way. I hope you don't see me leave; I want you to win.

I get at least 200 yards before I hear commotion at the field. I think it's just a bad call so I continue to walk. People are shouting your name, so I turn around to see what's going on. I see a blue and gold jersey running toward me. I know it's you. "What are you doing?" I exclaim. "Something I should've done a long time ago," you reply. You give me no time to think as you cup my chin in your hand and kiss me. My arms immediately wrap around your neck and you lift me off the ground in a twirl. "I'm sorry," you say, but all I do is smile.





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