Because I’d noticed that he has blue eyes. But, not blue like mine, more like a greyish blue.
And then I started to wonder; has he noticed the colour of my eyes?
And does he talk to his brothers about me and if so what does he say and would they approve of me and would he bring me to meet his parents and would he warn them that my name
is pronounced differently to how it’s spelt and would he introduce me to people with excitement in his voice and would he miss me even when we were together and would it hurt him to be away
from me and does he think about me at night and has he noticed the colour of my eyes and does he remember all the conversations we have had as vividly as I do and would it make him ache to
see me with someone else and would he lie to protect me and does he think we would last together and would he hold me so tight that even when we were skin on skin it wouldn’t feel close
enough and does my name make his heart race and does he know what date my birthday is and what my favourite perfume is and that I hate spiders and the sound of cutlery scraping on a plate
and has he noticed the colour of my eyes and does he want to know my favourite song and book and food and drink would it bother him that I quote movies as I watch them and would we talk
about the future and whether we believe in one god or many gods and does he know that I love it when he smiles with his teeth and the way he shakes his head from side to side when he laughs
and has he noticed the colour of my eyes and would he be proud to be seen with me and does he like the fact that we have the same sense of humour and does he know that I dream of him
in colours that don’t exist and that when he looks at me it’s feels like my entire body has caught fire and does he know that his words taste like vanilla and that he is the first person
that I would happily allow to break my heart no matter how painful it is no matter if it makes me feel like my heart is aching so badly that it will crack through my ribs and spill onto
the floor in front of me and does he know how pretty his name is written down and does he know that I can’t look at him and breath at the same time and does he know that I think about when
we kissed and I see it like a third person observing and I see the first initial kiss and his hand pulling me closer and my back against the cold hard material of the roof beneath me and how
at that moment I felt so comfortable in this perfect little piece of history as if I had written every second of it down and turned it into a moment and I see my right hand twisting into
the fabric of his shirt and his hand on the bottom of my dress and I hear the words he spoke to me and I wonder has he ever been kissed like that before and would he like to be again and has
he noticed the colour of my eyes and I imagine scenarios in my head where the two of are together but they are all so unrealistic and ridiculous that I can’t even tell my best friend about them,
maybe because it’s him. Or maybe it’s because I am absolutely terrified that I might be falling in love with him and I cannot fathom any possible way to stop it.
So maybe I will have to accept that we will never be any more than awkward eye contact and infrequent conversations and one kiss on the roof of a building and wondering if he’s noticed
the colour of my eyes, because I’ve noticed he colour of his.