What lies beneath

He has rock hard abs and biceps to die for. He also has a smile that I can’t seem to look away from. The world around us feels the chemistry. It’s palpable. I don’t care. I watch him look at me for four seconds longer than he should. I can feel his gaze when I’m turned away grabbing my bags. I smile, but he can’t see. As I leave I give him a crooked half smile and a wink. He takes pause. I can tell he doesn’t know where to place his feelings. I can tell he wants to do everything and anything with me in that moment; and constraint is getting harder and harder. He makes a goofy comment “you… um… you have a really fantastic day!” He tells me as he stutters over his words. “You too sir” I respond with a slight chuckle. I walk to my car thinking of our previous interactions and anticipating our next. I go there at least six times a day and the opportunities are endless. Sometimes it’s more friendly casual and those moments eat at me like insult. Sometimes it’s fire and ice running through my veins and the chemistry tells me our souls have been connected for eternity. He makes me forget about my past and believe that people can be good. He makes me tingle in places. He makes my heart skip a beat and sometimes I have to catch a breath. As I drive around I question if I have been listening to too much Colleen Hoover and Jessica Yarros. Audible has become my best friend while I work, and when I listen to the stories I imagine it is me and him in those pages. My mind wanders for countless hours on what a life with him would look like. What it would be to wake in his bed and get up and make him pancakes for breakfast. I imagine slow evenings in front of the fire place curled up next to him and watching movies while he brushes strands of hair out of my face and thumbs my cheek with his soft skin. I imagine long walks by a lazy river that slows time for a moment of embrace. Then I slap my head. Because I’ve been imaging this for the past four years. Four years of circling the same flirty banter, sex jokes, subtle touches that mean everything and nothing. Four years of watching that handsome smile flash at me while he stares for that lingering moment. If in four years he hasn’t swooped me into his arms and taken me in then he is just that… fantasy. Illusion of want and desire. He’s also fun so I’ll take it at whatever capacity I can. The charge is electric. It never fades. I want to grab those biceps and pull him as close to me as possible. On the ride home I will imagine that I’m going home to him. I will think of how he tried to get as close to me as possible without an HR violation when he reached for my badge that hangs from the belt loop of my jeans. The touch of his finger for a millisecond is burned into my skin, and I don’t want that feeling to fade. I can do this for another four years. Even if it is “just this”.

El