A Faint Illusion

He opened his mouth, and then shut it. Our friends were seated in front of us; all their faces holding the same expression. This needed to end. Yet half the band and his group of friends didn't even like me. They thought I was troubled, needy, and untrustworthy. Perhaps I was troubled, needy and untrustworthy. Those three adjectives were how I met Tom in the first place. It wasn't like I wanted him there to stop me and take me home nor somehow have this connection and start a relationship. I didn't ask that and he didn't either. It just happened.
He opened his mouth and shut it again.

"This is ridiculous!" Lee finally cried out throwing his hands in defeat as he stomped out of the room. He was always a little overdramatic. I smiled on the inside.
We sat there still; I on one end of the sofa, Tom on the other. Not a single word spoken and at least a three feet separation between us. What was there to say?
Did I create this distance? Did I establish it? I didn't tell Tom to stay but I definitely never told him to leave either. And as I stared at his group of friends, Matt, Vegan, Nick, Lee, and people I've never met and then my one and only friend Elizabeth stood behind me. Her pale hand resting on my shoulder as she tried to reassure me this was going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay. This was not going to be okay.
I couldn’t help myself. I lacked self-confidence or I guess self-esteem, which in my personal opinion might as well be the exact same thing. I was struggling. I will always be struggling, I can’t stop. Tom never understood. No one understood.

“Do it Pansy, just do it” Constantly encouraging myself, I gripped the black leather couch tighter. “Just fucking do it” I yelled internally. The glares, the stares; this was getting out of hand. My stomach slipped, sinking further into the abyss that I of which consider comfort.
He looked nice. I snuck a glance. His hair hidden under a black hobo beanie, his stripped red and white polo starting to bunch up at his waist as he continued to shift at a much more uncomfortable rate. His chapped lips holding back every single insult and frustration I could only imagine has been bottled up waiting to be shot at my weakest points. His icy blue eyes, well I didn’t get a chance to see them, he quickly turned his head as I glanced in the opposite direction.

“It’s like talking to a goddamn wall.” He finally spoke. He was right. I was still gathering up the correct words to say? An apology? Perhaps? I didn’t really feel like I could muster up enough to even say his name.
“We’re sick of this shit.” Elizabeth spoke.
Why is everyone getting so angry?
I took another long look at Tom. An urge erupted. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands were at his jaw pulling his face closer to mine. Like a ghost over his chapped lips. It was there, and then it was gone.

We stop, think, begin to revive