Her

Tap, tap, tap. I look at her, mesmerized at how she kept me at peace without even trying. She's absent mindedly tapping on the table with her slightly long nails, nails that she never cut too much because they'd bleed into a mess. We're just there, in the middle of the room, the only peaceful place between the chaos of disgustingly loud people. People who she'd probably like to mingle with, being as outgoing and extroverted as she is.

I still don't understand how we cling to each other like a koala bear with its tree, when she could so easily just shake me off and go with the 'cool ones'. I'm already way too attached and somewhere at the back of my mind, there are warning bells chiming "you know what happened the last time you got so attached". Yes, I knew. I was broken beyond anything I could comprehend. I couldn't find it in me to care that it would hurt. How could I, when she my only source of pure happiness? I was addicted to the few hours of solace she gave me, the hours when I could lose myself and just listen to her. What she liked, what she wanted, her joys and sorrows, small tidbits from her life. She was precious. And so, I observed her, learnt small details about her. The way she tied up her hair and took off her glasses before eating. The way she'd hastily correct herself when she said something wrong. The way she'd sigh in frustration and boredom. Her footsteps. The small sounds she made while stretching her stiff back. Her hands- The long, elegant fingers, that look so strong yet gentle. The mole on her index, the calluses from playing the guitar. The rings she was obsessed with. The watch that she almost never parts with. And this habit of hers- Tap, tap, tap.

Now she's tapping on random buttons on her calculator. It brings me back to earth before my thoughts get too messy. I look at her. She's laughing, a sweet tinkling sound so full of joy. It makes me smile, even against the emotional turmoil in my head. Everything she does fills me with a strange overwhelming feeling, making me want to die of longing. I should probably be a better person, listen to what she said, why she laughed, but I'm distracted again. Her fingers and their tapping.

I'd love to hold those hands, stop them from absently tapping on every surface. I wonder how those soft fingers would feel on mine. I wonder if the cold metal of her rings would make me back off or if it wouldn't matter under the warmth of her gaze. I can't stop looking at her perfect fingers and for a moment, I feel like I'd go mad if I didn't touch them, if they didn't touch me back. I want to hold her hands in mine, to trace the skin around the mole, to link my fingers with hers. I wish I had the courage to look in her eyes and tell her what I've been meaning to say ever since I spoke to her for the first time. I wish I could kiss those fingers, learn them perfectly till I could identify them blind. I wish they would run all over me and cover me in goosebumps of anticipation. For a moment I almost reach for her hands, now fidgeting with their rings. An illusion builds, of me with her hands in my lap, inches away from her, intensely looking into her eyes. Of her returning the intensity in her gaze, getting closer to me till I've closed my eyes and I can sense her breath on my cheek. I watch, dumbstruck. It's perfect. She's perfect. And I'm not. And the illusion breaks. I'd ruin everything with my longing. Nothing in reality would ever come close to the illusion, she'd never feel towards me what I feel towards her. So I swallow my feelings and my hands sit idly in my lap, clasping each other instead. I can't afford to lose her like this. Not now, not for anything. I'd come as close as I could trying to convince myself that she didn't mean much to me, that the things I felt were false. So I just smile at her, willing the pain to go away, and tell myself that I'm better off pining for what I can never have, rather than losing it all on the foolish whims of my emotions.