i’m falling for the little things about you
like the freckle on your right ear
or the way you fiddle with the emergency brake when there’s nothing to talk about.
i like the way you turn completely sideways in your seat to tell a story,
daring me to maintain eye contact from the passenger side.
i like the hat with your dad’s company’s name on it
and your patagonia pullover that you always wear.
i like that you bring a cup of coffee to school everyday
but make fun of me for drinking tea out of fancy teacups;
it seems as if i could like every little thing about you...

i feel the most like myself
when i’m with you.
i could tell you anything
and you’d just lean your head on the steering wheel and laugh.
i want someone like you for the rest of my life:
someone that says funny things because i look like i need to laugh,
someone that listens to me ramble for hours on end and seems genuinely interested,
someone that waits for me on the sidewalk.

i think someone like you could be my forever.

you said you’d like to live in virginia.
oh, how i could see us
among the old buildings and tulip trees,
driving down to savannah, georgia for spring break
to see the spanish moss
and the gorgeous houses that you told me looked like they were all squished together,
or up to boone, north carolina,
where i swear it’s fifty degrees year-round

wherever i end up
i hope you’re there too.

you can tell a lot about a guy by what kind of music he turns on when you’re in the car.

there was the guy whose bass blew out my eardrums
who texted the entire way there.

there was the sweet guy who cued up his rap playlist but turned it down a couple notches so he could hear what i had to say.

but my favorite to ride with was the guy who turned the random radio station down and talked to me for thirty minutes about life and the future.
i still don’t know what song was playing.

a short, exasperated little thing slams her locker and scurries around the corner
practically slamming into a telephone pole of a guy.
he smiles, says her name, and asks if she was trying to run him over
and it takes her a few seconds for the wheels of her brain to slow down enough to respond;
an awkward laugh and an eye roll
and a sarcastic “yeah” that is shouted as he’s still walking the other direction.
the wheels start up again and her little legs move even faster to make up for lost time.

i wonder what would happen if you broke up with her
and i had the chance to go after you.
would i still smile at you every time i saw you in the hallway?
would i still wait for you to say hi and then act like i wasn’t expecting it?
i hate to say it
but i think i’d go back to treating you like a friend;
the butterflies would leave
with the fear that she might find out i had feelings for you.
maybe i don’t want you,
i just like the idea of something i can’t have.

you walked up to me
and we greeted each other with the stupid “classic white people” half smile
like we always do
and you said hey
and that we have our leadership thing this wednesday.
we talked about your eye surgery
and how i didn’t have time to eat dinner that night;
nonchalant little small-talk
that i normally would hate,
but with you it felt like the most intellectual conversation of my life.
standing there
you in that tux
and me in my ballgown
it felt normal,
like this was something we did everyday.
reality hit hard when you said goodbye
to go find the girl you came with.

i’m in this really weird place in my life
like i have so much love to give
and no one to give it to.
part of me thinks,
maybe the boy God gave you to help with life and love and to heal your soul,
or maybe the boy He sent to be a match of wits,
or the one who smiles at you in the hallway and makes your eyes light up every morning
or the countless other boys God sent you to prove that he is in control;
but then i realize
one will always need me,
as someone to council and advise him.
another will pretend i’m just another acquaintance, which i guess is true.
and the other, well i’m not sure
we’ll find out once he and his girlfriend break up.

you made fun of the way i talk,
like it somehow alienated me.

words like “uppity” and “hoity toity”
that i was using to describe your friends.

“i’d love to read your essays...uppity.”

at that point i hadn’t realized that you were just as well off as they were
and here i was talking about how they made me feel like i didn’t belong,
just because my father didn’t own a boat or a summer house.

it was actually quite funny
i always thought you were like me,
a fake.
a middle class citizen playing pretend.

“i wouldn’t date him.”
“me neither.”
they all look at me and raise their eyebrows.
i stand firm in my answer.
i wouldn’t date you;
i’d marry you.