then we'll talk

oh god.

you've moved over to my seat now and i'm shaking with expectation. my breathing slows and quickens and i touch my ipod, my fingers moving round and round the dial wishing you would just talk to me already.

oh god, now i paused my music and i know what they're talking about but i'm ignoring it all the same. i've been playing it stupid all the time and i know you won't wait to ask me music longer. you're like a teenage boy, like a stupid craving teenage boy that won't quite leave my head.

i edge more towards the window and pump my music louder, louder, louder. exactly what i need in times like these. i smile occasionally but i'm overcome with nerves. i'm filled to the brim with anticipation.

you touch my arm and i flip my head around quickly, my pigtails swinging behind my head. you say, in that voice of yours that drives me totally insane, 'what's up?' and i flinch slightly hoping, praying, you won't ask me anything else.

'music'

i say, my standard answer. in the mornings i'm dead, you should know that by now. in the mornings i'm secluded, clandestine and i don't open up.

'cool' you say and smile slightly so your red and black brackets show. you got them yesterday and you're embaressed but i think that they are hot on you.

i turn around at the empty window as the bus drives on and suddenly stops at my best friends stop. she's not riding because of you, and i am riding because of you. she's jealous she's not the one.

i keep playing stupid and innocent and think over and over and over in my head you won't ask me, you won't talk to me. 'just wait til thursday, thursday, thursday when i'll be on in the afternoon'. he always sits next to me in the afternoons and words slip out of my mouth with ease and i feel so welcome and loved.

oh god, we're nearing school now and i hope, i pray, you won't ask me. just thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight more seconds.

'stop stalling' says the voice i hate so dearly when i hit pause. let him go at his own pace, i think.

we pull into the parking lot and i hope he won't talk to me.

but.
    he.
      does.

and i answer with a smile, no words or explanation. i'll talk to him tomorow, god, not now.

-

i enter the building with a caved in capacity and a spinning sensation even though i'm just walking straight. the cute seventh grader asks me a question about the bus. i keep my 'i-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about' face and walk away.

and as i'm walking down the hallway they're staring at me, smirking at me, as if they expect me to say something or give them a clue.

-

i avoid him but wish to run into him the whole day long. his words, and he himself pulse through my mind and set me in a gleefull state.

and then i see him. the school day is over and he's at his locker and, god, he looks so cute. and he asks me the question he always asks (and already knows the answer to) 'are you riding the bus?'

i smile and tell him the answer i always give him. 'nope, drama til 5. but thursday and friday i'm riding morning and afternoon.'

and for some reason, even though that's something he always says and that's something i always answer, i know it has a deeper meaning now, unwinding as the time passes.

thinking, thinking, thinking, thinking and i start up my music again.

'appealing only 'cause they're just that unappealing any practiced...'
and the words never sounded so sweet, so alive, in my mind as they do now.

so i pump the music louder.