I like you. I think I’ve liked you since the first time I saw you. Don’t get me wrong, though. I don’t love you. Saying I love you would be silly. I don’t know you that well. I just know your name. And the course you’re taking. Who your brother is. What year you’re in. So, you see? Saying I love you is preposterous. But I like you.
I like you. But my friends don’t. They call you arrogant. But I think you’re just confident. I keep that information to myself, though. I like you, but my friends don’t like you that much. So I pretend that I don’t like you either. That’s why when we see each other around campus I ignore you. But please don’t think that I don’t like you. Because I do. I really do. I’m not in love with you, though. Just so we’re clear.
I like you. I like your eyes. I like your wavy brown hair. I always wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through it. I like your hands, especially your fingers. Long and thin like a pianist’s. I want to hold your hand and lace our fingers together. I like your lips and the way they hint at a smile whenever you see me. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. But still, I like your lips. I’d like them even more if they’re pressed against mine. Sorry, please ignore the line above this one.
I like you. I know because my hear flutters every time I see you. Sounds silly and cliché, I know. But it’s true. You make me feel weird. But a good kind of weird. I like you. And I want to know more about you. Like why take up engineering? Why not accountancy like your brother? I want to know you more. Can you sing? Do you dance? And why did you choose number 7 for you jersey number? I’d like to get to know you. But I know it’s impossible. Well, maybe not impossible, just outside the realm of probability.
I like you. And I’m saying it here. Because I can’t tell you. I can’t tell my friends. But now I’m telling everybody. I like you. But I don’t love you. Because you’re a stranger. A beautiful stranger but a stranger nonetheless. One day we’d see each other and maybe I’d smile. Hopefully, you’ll smile back. But until then, I’d be harboring these feelings of mine. And I’ll watch you. And like you from the sidelines.