His deep brown eyes stare down at me in that greatly familiar way I've come to love and his lips turn up into a big smile as our eyes finally meet. We've been talking for the past hour about things dumb and yet so very important. I don’t think I've ever known how to appreciate the little things, but with him little things and little moments are all I have. They've come to mean the world to me. I don’t know what that says about me, but frankly I don’t care. We both look out across the green field and he does every little thing possible to make me smile and throw my head back laughing, looking like an utter idiot included. I can faintly hear voices coming from the people around us, but it’s all just a muffled eruption of conversation. Right now it’s just the two of us lost in our own little world full of wonderful discoveries and stories yet to be told.

As he stares off into the distance entertained by the routine football practice, I take the opportunity to take the smallest of glances at his complacent profile. All his features are relaxed, his mouth slightly turned up at the corners and a faint shine in his eyes. Before he can notice, I look away. Our hands are on the table before us, inches away from each other. I think of how my frail hands would feel in his, the softness of my skin against the masculine roughness of his, the warmness of them in comparison to the unusual coldness of mine. He inches closer to me on the table’s bench, thinking I won’t notice, but I do. Just like I noticed when he was making his way towards me in class earlier, but self-consciously changed his path. And just as I did then, I think: How silly of him. The idea of me wanting him so and him being too afraid to do anything about it drives me absolutely insane. I look down at out separated hands and feel the small sliver of hope I had leave me.

Like so many times before, the hopelessness that had filled me is replaced with new-found hope as he looks down at me with kind eyes and something other than friendship mixed in his features. We have small little discussions about random topics, but neither of us can seem to convince the other of our righteousness. Our stubbornness allows us only to agree to disagree. I grow anxious with every minute because I know soon we’ll have to leave or someone will interrupt our wonderful banter, but then our eyes meet and he flashes that imperfect smile I adore and time melts away along with my foolish anxiety.

As perfect as it may seem on paper, I can assure you it’s not. The whole situation is quite messy and confusing, but honestly I don’t think I want to give up those little things or those tentative smiles. I don’t want to give up those dumb conversations and pointless discussions because I’m perfectly happy with the little moments that add up to the very big ones even if I’m not quite sure where it’s all leading us.