I hope so.
Even just a little.
Because I’d hate to be the only one … staring at my cell phone. Smiling when it’s you. Pouting when it’s not. And zoning out at work when I think about the last thing you said to me that made me laugh.
It’s actually really cute. But also kinda crazy. How I’ve managed to find the perfect spot on your couch … half way in your lap … legs hanging in between yours … and my head resting lazily on your shoulder … with 72 inches wrapped all around me and your like all ova lil. ole. me.
Honey, don’t you know I’m loca? When I think of the perfect outfit to wear for you and ask all my boys how I should fix my hair, just to end up in basketball shorts and a messy ponytail anyway? I mean, I know you’re a dude and don’t have as many options, but would it be crazy for me to pretend you check yourself out in the mirror before you pick me up to make sure you look good for me too?
That would be nice.
‘Cuz I’m over here replaying last nights date in my head and I swear I can still smell you. And I can still hear the bass in your voice. And I can still feel your hand behind my neck when we kissed. And I swear to GOD I am 2 dates and 3 kisses away from making you red Jello. OK wait. That definitely sounds crazy. So let’s just pretend I never said that … even though I just did. And even though you just saw our score card and said we sound good together …
Naw, you know what? Just forget it. It’s nothing. It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous. I was just kidding. I don’t like you. No, not at all. Not even a Lykke Li Little Bit.
Well … unless … of course … you’re just a little bit crazy for me too.