Saudade

I prop myself up on a pillow in bed, Pretty In Pink playing in the background as I try to focus on the task at hand. Really, at this point, I should know better - know what I'm doing, know how to not get so distracted - but I guess I don't, not really. I can't keep glancing at my phone, waiting for him to reply.

We've only been talking for what? A week, maybe two? I shouldn't be this caught up in someone I've only been talking to for a week, but I am. He's just so sweet and funny and charming and I really like him. He makes me smile and he likes the same kinds of things I do, which are obscure enough that I thought I'd never find someone who'd be interested in them. But Harry is. And even if he isn't into some things, he doesn't act like a jerk about it. (Like Luke probably would.)

Speaking of Luke, is it bad that I'm blowing him off to talk to Harry? I don't know. I haven't actually really talked to him or seen him in a week and I don't feel bad. I know he likes me or something, but I don't care as much as I probably should. He's Ryan's friend and I know Quincy wants me to at least try to have something with him but I just can't. I don't care about Luke, I can't, not where Harry's involved.

My phone vibrates on my blanket. I practically pounce on it, jostling Frieda as I quickly unlocked my phone.

It's 8:45 and I really should be focusing on a presentation that's due tomorrow at 9 AM sharp, but instead I'm curled up with my pillow and laughing at one of Harry's jokes. He makes me smile and laugh and just... feel special, which isn't something I'm particularly used to. This is... different. Maybe he's the kind of person that just reads people really well. Or maybe I'm just giving off more than I actually think I am.

We've been talking pretty much non-stop, not that I particularly mind. He's funny, smart, attractive... but there's a catch. Of course there's a catch. He lives overseas, all the way in Europe. Which kind of bums me out because any and all hope of actually going out and doing something are all but dashed. Then again, this is the 21st century, and thankfully, there are really great things like webcams and things. But it's too soon, right? It's too soon.

But I just like him.

I like him a lot.

H: So you're still single? Really?

I stare at my phone, glance back at my half-done presentation, and then go back to his message. Where is this conversation going?

M: Really, really.

I was almost positive that Harry had a girlfriend or a life partner or whatever, some sort of significant other. Harry was every girl's dream and there was no way he wasn't with someone. There just couldn't be.

H: A girl like you?

M: A girl like me? Yeah.

H: But how? You're just so...

I'm just so what? So awkward and shy and weird and not his type at all?

H: Special.

M: How do you know?

H: I don't. You just give me a really good vibe.

M: I give you a good vibe?

H: Yeah. Just like really positive and friendly, and you're also really pretty, which only makes me wonder why you're still single.

M: You're awfully interested in my love life for a friend, no?

H: I guess, but I'm a friend that really likes you in a not-like-a-friend way.

M: Oh?

H: Hope that doesn't make me forward? I just... like you?

Does the fact that I giggle into my pillow and almost scream because for the first time in my life someone I like a lot actually likes me back make me kind of a loser? (Or something.)



I told her I liked her tonight. And she told me she liked me too. She saw it and she didn't answer, so now I'm not sure if I freaked her out or if she might have fallen asleep - we stay up pretty late talking most nights - or something.

I keep telling myself that I have to tell her who I really am. I had partially entertained the notion that maybe after talking to her so deeply I'd see that maybe Maisie isn't exactly the wonder girl I'd painted her out to be and that maybe the huge crush I'd been harboring on the girl across the hall ever since I'd met her would go away. It won't, though.

I just like her so much. Getting to know her better - even if it is under false pretenses - has only made my feelings grow and fester, boiling over in something that rivals any and all crushes and fleeing fancies I might have had as a kid. She's such a pure person that it kind of makes me feel bad. I say kind of because I do but I don't, not really. I'm too selfish, and I like the feeling of being this close to her more than I've ever liked anything else. I don't know what to do.

While I'm having this inner moral debate, Harry comes banging in, panicked as he starts rooting through my things. I glance at him from my bed, making a face.

"Are you okay?"

"I can't find any clean shirts and I have an interview tomorrow," he says, turning towards my closet. "I can borrow one of these, right? I mean, they might be a little snug, but... whatever." Harry yanks a white shirt off a hanger and inspects it for a few seconds before looking over at me. "What?"

"Nothing," I say. I'm not mad, I'm just kind of annoyed that he always does this - takes my things and doesn't think anything of it. I know from experience that if I see the shirt again, it's going to be ruined, so I just make a note to pick Harry up a few shirts and take some of his clothes to the dry cleaners. "What's the interview for?"

"Some magazine. I don't know. Probably hanging out with Zayn tomorrow night so don't wait up." He shuts the door loudly and apologizes as I stare at my now very messy room, sighing. I glance at my phone, seeing that she has yet to reply. I try not to let it bother me, focusing my attention on the spreadsheets from work that I have to have on Mr. Helder's desk by 7 tomorrow morning.

If I thought I felt bad when she took so long to reply, I felt even worse when she simply said, "Me too." Maisie added a smiley face and I honestly felt like I couldn't breathe for almost thirty seconds, heart thudding rapidly in my chest as I let the meaning of her words sink in.