buttons

"You been saying the right things all night long, but I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off."

He couldn't help but wondering if tonight of all nights was the night he would experience the bittersweet irony of love. Jonah had only gone out to a bar to hang out with his friends, have a couple of beers and talk sports. But he walked in the bar, saw Michelle, and simply could not leave.

And Michelle had talked to him. She smiled coyly, sat leisurely, looked him straight in the eye, and laughed with him. She flirted with him and although he knew it was the drinks influence, Jonah fell for it.

So here they were. How stupidly he had volunteered to take her home. She had clearly sobered up in the car. Her directions had become clearer and clearer during the 20 minute drive and she walked into her apartment with ease. So she was sobered. And she still wanted him.

Michelle sat beside him. She led the conversation into scandalous talk. She put her hand on his knee and pressed her body against his on the couch.

Yet Jonah resisted. He had imagined this situation dozens of time. Except it wasn't some bar fluke that led them to this moment; it was Michelle recognizing Jonah's adoration of her and reciprocating. There was real affection, not a lustful passion. Jonah wanted more than this temporary infatuation. He wanted her to look at him, see him, and still want him.

But the realization came with a rush that Michelle may never feel this way. Or that this could be his opportunity to show his feelings. Either way, this was not a moment he should let slip past. So he didn't.