It is amazing how someone who has long since been gone out of your life can still take your breath away. It has been almost 2 years since I have had a real conversation with Liam (see The Many Loves of My Life ) and a over a year since I have even seen his face. Yet, when I saw him ride past me on the escalator of the metro, my heart stopped. I wasn’t even sure if he still lived in DC until that very moment - when time seemed to stand still.
He didn’t see me. I am not sure he would have talked to me had he seen me. I had started to forget how much I loved him. It had been months since I had even thought about him. But all it took was 5 seconds, just a glance, and everything came flooding back. I don’t know that anyone else has ever looked at me the way he used to. His crystal blue eyes had a way of telling me his every thought, especially when he thought I looked pretty. I have never felt more beautiful in my whole life than when that tall, kind, stunningly handsome man told me how pretty I looked, because his eyes always told me that he meant it. It is hard to realize you are just another face in the crowd to someone who used to be the only person who really saw you.
As I stepped off the escalator and made my way home, I was so flustered I could barely eat dinner. My hands were shaking, and all my friends were off playing softball on the many fields scattered across the Mall. I went to the bar, hoping a cocktail would clear Liam from my mind. One cocktail led to two, and after two who was still counting? I became a huge flirt (what’s new?) and just needed to be seen. I needed someone I wanted to pay attention to me. As I flirted my way through several of my mini crushes at our regular bar, I felt myself start to settle back into myself. My life is great. I am great without Liam.
When a boy I have grown quite fond of got really flirty by the jukebox, I naturally flirted back, even though I shouldn’t have. He is roommates with one of my best friends. I am over at his house ALL the time, yet that didn’t stop me. The brush of his arm against mine, his hand on my waist - it was intoxicating, and I was already intoxicated. When I said I was going home, he insisted on walking me. I like to be walked home when I think the boy has romantic intentions. I was dying to be kissed. Valentine’s Day was a long time ago, and, after seeing, Liam I needed to feel something, anything but missing him. He kissed me, a sweet gentle kiss. We kept kissing for what seemed like an hour by the back door to my building.
It was sweet, and I didn’t really want it to stop. It wasn’t hot though. I want a hot, passionate, a little rough, can’t-breathe-without-you kind of kiss. I want a weak-in-the-knees, you-will-never-think-of-kissing-anyone-else-kind of kiss.
I want too much. I want what I can’t have. I am all in knots. If just passing Liam on the metro can make me this big of a mess, I don’t even want to know what having a conversation with him would do. Maybe I will never find out. It has been so long already, maybe our lives will never cross paths again. We are probably just supposed to be faces in the crowd to one another, a distant memory of what once was.
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