The Guy I Made Up

I'm in a group of people, lots of my friends, and I meet the eye of this cute little Spanish-looking guy that hangs around with the same friends. I've had a thing for him for months, but I can tell he's not interested. I drink some more, socialize, and continue to spot him out of the corner of my eye. I swear he's looking at me, staring me down, so I turn my head to see yes, he is.

I step outside to get some air and he follows, sits beside me on the cold step of the mysterious party-house. He sits very close, close enough that my leg is touching him. I say something clever like "nice night," and he replies, equally as cleverly, "yeah." I look over at him, as coyly as my demeanor will allow, to be shocked as he kisses me. We stay locked for what seems like an hour. We part, I smile, not knowing what to say. Finally, I blurt out "I've been waiting for that for a while." He smirks and says "so have I."

We spend the coming weeks and months together. Going places, having fun, being there for one another. A feeling inside me, a warmth, grows like a tense blossom. I'm thrilled that this has happened and I never want it to stop.

Then I woke up.

I try to get back to sleep to find him in my sleepy daze, but all I can catch is his visage, smiling, in my mind. I've never seen the face in real life, except the reality of my dreams.

--Jam