A boy with a smile

He's a really cute boy. He has a square jaw and a really nice smile. And his hair kind of falls over his eyes. He's got this cute Irish accent and a joke that makes me laugh.

And I wonder if I would flip my hair a little. If I would widen my eyes just a smidge more. If my smile would be a little wider, my laughter a little tinklier. I wonder if I'd stay on for just another drink with friends. If I'd try to sit next to him at the table. I wonder if I would touch his arm as we talked. I wonder if he'd buy me a drink. I wonder if I'd let him walk me home. I wonder if I'd pause just long enough by the building entrance. I wonder if I'd finger my keys for that extra couple of seconds.

All this I wonder as I say goodbye. As I decline that extra drink and tell them I have to get up early tomorrow. As I wave and enter the building without pausing. As I lock the door and take off my coat. As I slip into pajamas and start up my computer. As I type - I love you, goodnight.

All this I wonder and then smile a little smile. No. I won't be flipping my hair a little. I won't be smiling that extra-wide smile. I won't be exploring this possibility.

Because my guy - the one without the hair falling in his eyes, the one without the square jaw - that guy has a smile even nicer than this one. A smile that speaks to my heart.

And even as I wonder, even as my imagination flits over the possibilities, I know. I know I would rather be here alone, with a smile a little short of flirty and a pause a lot short of inviting, if it means I get to "be" with my guy. Even if it's just over Skype and phone calls. That guy. The one whose smile melts my heart.