Do the girls back home touch you like I do?... Taylor Swift
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... I am indeed a coward, but inwardly I am a lover, and I stare at you in wonder, If one day I won't cower, for my soul to you to bear. Baby steps, I agree… My pen paused on the page, and my head lifted up, my eyes meeting his.
He winked, and I blushed, putting my pen and book away.
'Tis the night glowed, warm from the sparks of the bonfire, as laughter lingered in the air. They danced in tune with the classic melodies, twirling and swaying under the starry sky. It was beautiful and so sweet that it left a bitter feeling in my chest as I watched from the log I was sitting on.
Contrary to how we used to be—the two of us—now we were a crowd, and I wondered how I should feel about it. It was nice to see him laugh and crack jokes, but it was not because of me; this made my heart tug—painfully, uncomfortably—at the scene.
Call me selfish, but I wanted to own all his smiles, laughter, and attention—which I had—until we ran into a group of his friends who were band mates, and everything changed. Suddenly, we were supposed to converse and rhyme and blend, which I sucked so much while he bonded so effortlessly.
The dynamic shifted, and a strange feeling creeped in. Something I was not supposed to feel towards him. It was a mix of envy, insecurity, and a fear of being replaced. I thought I was okay with fitting in and socializing, but this moment proved I was only alright with him alone.
Everything was a tiring task. From smiling and chiming in the conversations to trying to come up with clever rhymes, it all felt forced and unnatural. I couldn't help but compare myself with the beautiful ladies in his everyday life, wondering if I could ever measure up to their charm and grace.
I was nothing close to them, and this alone made me question: did he find me boring? Did he find me lacking? Was he with me just out of pity?
Yet again, self-doubt crept in, shaking my resolve as I struggled to maintain my confidence.
"Handsome, isn't he?" A feminine voice spoke beside me, and I agreed aloud than I intended to.
Looking at her with a bashful expression, I recognized her as the core of the band. She had that beauty chic that I could only dream of possessing.
So confident, fearless, and unapologetically herself. Half of her hair was dyed green, and she wore a leather jacket covered in patches and pins, exuding a coolness that I could never seem to achieve. I have always been like this since my school days—poor sense of fashion compared to others.
"Don't fall for him," she said, her eyes straining on him while I wondered what she meant. "He belongs to many, not just one's fray." Her words did something bad to my nerves, as I started to feel edgy and uneasy, unsure of how to respond.
"But he's my type," she continued, a challenge in her tone, "You don't mind, do you? After all, you're not special to him, no?" So a beeyatch, I see…
The bonfire sparkle made everything seem so vibrant and alive. I smiled when he was made to wear the silly hat as a dare. It was a fun game, but I could not play. I was not comfortable and not daring enough to go with the rules.
"I don't like to share, you see…" I said, my voice trailing off as I turned to face the woman, who reeked of green like her hair. Her eyes widen, totally not expecting my retort, while I stand and walk towards him.
My heart skipped a beat as he stretched his hands to me as I approached him, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement.
"Hush, heart now; he is not ours to have." I chided my childish heart, trying to quell the fluttering sensation, as I took his hands.