I breath in as I stand at your door. I want to run away. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to leave again and never come back.
I push my glasses back up my nose and ring the bell.
I look down at my shoes, hoping you're not home. Stupid thrift store converse. "Nice shoes," you said. I blushed. Bullshit.
The door opens and I look up, there you are again. No shirt, no shoes, no service. Sorry. I want to run back to my car and drive away fast.
"It's been awhile since you've been around," you say softly, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of your neck. Your nervous little habbit.
We stand in silence, both of us looking at our feet now.
Do something, I think at you. Say something. Sweep me off my feet. Make me stay I don't want to go away again.
I look up at you, you look down at me. Blue eyed boy meets a brown eyed girl.
"Dare you to move," you whisper.
The corner of your mouth twists, and I can feel it.
Feels like home.