Scared

I'm scared.

I'm happy, excited, infatuated and scared.


What if? What if, what if, what if, what if?

What if I fall in love with him? I call him by a nickname and I hold his hand and I leave butterfly kisses across his jawbone. I play with his hair and I like it when he holds my waist.

We're lying on the rocks at the beach, warming up and drying off from swimming. I look at the sky and the water and close my eyes. He says something to me. I didn't hear what it was but it doesn't matter, because now we're kissing and he tastes sweet. He lays back down and his eyes are shut but he's smiling. I look at him because I know he can't see me doing it, and he's beautiful.

It's not really that he's incredibly attractive or anything. Yeah, he's cute and tall, but pretty average. He has little flaws. What really shows is when he's happy. It shines through his smile and his movements and his words and his eyes.

Oh, his eyes. One is brown, the other one is blue. I hate looking at just the blue one because it reminds me of someone who looks very much like him, and of the way that person hurt me. I like to look at them both together though, because he is unique and I don't think I will ever see another pair of eyes quite like this one.

We're not perfect.

I don't want to make that mistake again. I know that being with him will take work and trust and it will be dangerous. I know that there will be fights and fear and things that make us want to just give up. If I expect things to be perfect, we'll both be let down and it won't be a serious relationship. Just an immature crush. We can thank fairytale conditioning for that one.

I do want to try, I really do. I swear, this time it will be worth it.

What if? What if, what if, what if, what if?

The way I feel about him is unreal. His hands are warm and soft and gentle. He touches me carefully, like I'm going to break.

I feel safe. Safe telling him things, him telling me things. Safe just sitting silently with him. That's not very common. When I'm scared or when I'm nervous, I babble just to fill the silence. With him, it's not awkward. I feel happy just being with him. It's peaceful and friendly.

I love the way he's mixed serious and silly.

I want to go back to that night when the club was dark and the music was loud. We were in there some of the time but kept retreating outside for various reasons, mostly to chat with various people. Him and I retreat to the car and we kiss and talk and joke for a very long time. We talk about us, about music, we laugh, he touches me and kisses me. I suddenly can't talk anymore. Things are going so fast but I'm not scared of it, just excited and dizzy with the heat, dizzy from his hands.

It doesn't really end, just fades out. Even so, it's not awkward. We kiss and joke and talk some more, and I'm relieved that nothing has changed. He's still mixed eyes, mixed silly and serious. Together we decide to head back to the music. Our friends already assumed.

Then it's his band's turn to go on stage and make noise. I go right up front by the stage and try to catch his eyes but I think he's so nervous he's just watching his hands and guitar. They start and I clap so hard my hands burn, I scream so loud my lungs hurt and my eyes water. Playing the part of a man named Jack Panic, he comes off stage and mingles with the fans while still playing. I still don't see him meet my eyes. He goes near me but some other girl starts dancing and grinding against him. He has to go back on stage because the song finishes.

Finally, it's the last part of their set and they play a cover of a song I love. I shriek the lyrics along with them, and who cares if it sounds bad, we all start doing it. Jack Panic jumps off stage again and trails around in the audience and somehow appears before me. Before I know what's going on, I get kissed and time slows down and then it's over and the set is over and...what happened?

Who kissed me?

Was it him, or was it Jack Panic acting up, being rowdy and rockstar? I pray it was him.

He tells me that sometimes he loses himself when people start calling him Jack Panic. I promise him that I will never call him that, I will call him by his name or by his nickname. I've lost myself and I know it's frightening.

He seems so confident, so proud and happy but I think I know better. Really, he's only another human trying to make it through. He's had a lot happen and if anything, I think he's more scared than any of us. More scared than I am.

We play questions and I ask him silly things. His middle name, his favourite colour, his worst fear. The answers really are not that important. I ask him more questions and some of them are serious, some of them are not.

I find out that he hates spiders, he loves red, what he wants most is a home. I hope, one day, he may call me his home. I look forward to that day and I fear that day.

I'm scared.