The Aussie, Part 2

I didn’t want to go. He’s not for me, he likes me too much, what if we run out of things to say, what if I’m awkward, what if he gets to know me and he’s disappointed, he dresses funny, if I wear my tallest heels I’ll be taller than he is. “Do you want to do dinner?” “I do but I’m hesitant. I’m moving in a couple months and I think dating someone in New York is not the best idea right now.” “I guess that’s fair. Shame. You’ve got such a different energy than any other girl I’ve met. But I’m not letting you off the hook that easy. We can still hang out.” “As friends?” “Sure.”

I agreed to let him take me to an improv show at The Pit. He smells so nice, jeans and sneakers this time, his shoulder touched mine, is he leaning toward me, is that body language, he touched my knee, please touch my knee again, he’s got a nice laugh, he hasn’t looked at his phone once the whole night I love that, he’s definitely leaning toward me, touch my knee again.

“Where are we going now?” I want to spend more time with you. “Do you play pool? I know exactly where we’re going.” A pool hall in Korea Town. “I know, it looks dodgy, but it’s cool.” Dodgy. In a tiny elevator, just me and him, twelfth floor, kiss me in the elevator, kiss me in the elevator, kiss me in the elevator, he’s smiling at me, shot myself in the foot with the friends statement, I could really like him and now he won’t kiss me.

He is terrible at pool, and I’m not much better but it doesn’t even matter. He doesn’t even care when I beat him, still not looking at his phone, touches my stomach as he passes by for the next shot, please touch me again, I don’t want to be your friend.

“Up for a location change? I know that look. It’s bed time?” I want to go home and think about how lovely this night was and I don’t want to drink any more to ruin it. Arm around my shoulder walking to the subway, if I hadn’t made the stupid friends proclamation he’d be holding my hand, he smells so nice, will he kiss me at the station? A hug. A long hug. A kiss on the forehead. A kiss on the cheek. You missed! Another kiss on the forehead. I am surely frowning as I say goodbye and jog down the subway stairs. “Text me when you’re home, yeah?”

Usually when someone asks me to text them that I got home okay, I forget. This time, I didn’t forget. Because he was all I could think about.