I look into his eyes for the first time tonight, and am unsure of how much he knows, or how willing my heart is to defy my intuition. They are a soft brown, reminding me of the comfort I find in just being near him. My heart loses grip as we exchange gazes. I blink once, thinking I fell asleep because it was too good to be true. I turn my head towards the sky, and stare at the stars. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him slowly tilt his head in the same direction, as if rejected. It's a solid black night outside with the stars glimmering in silence. They blink brilliantly as the wind blows warm air above our heads. In the silence of the night, all that is heard is the music from my iPod, which plays a melody of songs that I got from him. As I lay beside the one I love in the back of his truck, I think of something to say to break the silence. In searching for the right words to begin a conversation, I collide with thoughts of telling him exactly how I feel. One idea to the next, I lose my footing on reality, and drift into a world where everything goes as planned. I drift through conversations, all about me telling him the truth, each one a happy ending.

The music stops and I become grounded again. Back in the truck, back by his side, and back into the doubt that he might not be hiding something. I see a star shoot across the sky, and yet I do not wish. Everything I have is better than I could wish for. His love for me must be genuine, not a fairy tale. If he does not love me from his own free will, then I could never forgive myself, never forget what he was like before I selfishly stole him from the world.

As all these thoughts race through my head, the music starts again, and I am unaware how long we have been silent for. Somehow we get into conversations of whom we like, and I would have told him everything there is to know, yet I want to be sure of his reaction, before I give him a reason to react. I want more than anything for him to say in some abstract way that he wants it to be me, but I know it's not what he really wants.

I do dream that I am the one for him, and he's the one for me, and yet I let him know my feelings are reserved for another, and regret it later. I casually stretch out, and turn to him slightly, as to look into his eyes before I ask him, "So, who is it you like?". I slowly draw in my breath, anxiously awaiting his response. After what seems like forever, he finally says, "Well, there were two people, but now I guess it's only one". Unaware of what he means I inquire further, but to no prevalence. His eyes avoid my questioning stare, and he fidgets a little. I let it slide and he continues telling me exactly who it is he feels for, and how long since he's had these feelings. I feel crushed, that he is not opening up to me, and I begin to think that if he is in the same situation that I am in, he is doing the same thing as me. Maybe we are both covering up our true feelings for one another with false predictions. Although they seem genuine, they could only ever be temporary. In a confused state of adolescence, I grasp onto the hope that I can lead a life I've always dreamed of. A life which ends in me avoiding the real person inside. If I continue on this path, I may make others happy at the expense of my own, but it would be a price to pay for hiding my true self, and for the happiness of others, it is one I am willing to take.

As he tells me everything there is to know about whom he likes, my heart sinks a little, but I remain level headed for his sake, and my sanity. I cannot let him know I love him until the time is right. I think to myself that now is not the best time, and I am convincing myself that never is also a good time, or a more realistic one at least.

My movements become shaky and I begin to fidget, lifting my left leg up, and bending the knee to regain feeling, when it is my heart that needs the reassurance that it is still there. He turns his head, and I stare deep into his solid brown eyes. I am mesmerized by how inviting they seem, warm and reassuring. It makes me sad that I will never get a look of lust from any eyes as gorgeous as his, and even worse that I will never get a look from those eyes specifically.

I am silent for all the wrong reasons, and he asks me what is on my mind. How can I tell him truly how I feel at this moment, when he just convinced me that he likes someone else? I tell him that I need to go to the bathroom, and then I'd like to go to Tim Horton's, our usual spot to hang out if there is nothing else to do.

On the drive over, we remain silent and not a word is spoken. I stare blankly out the window, lost for words to tell him how I feel, and what to say to avoid being awkward. I push aside my thoughts of greed, and focus on having a good time with the guy I am a friend with. We order our drinks, him a coffee, me a tea, and we head back out to sit in the parking lot of our old school. Reminiscing about our high school days, I remember we never even had a high school relationship. I barely knew him, if only through friends. I never even saw him in school, and talked to him barely ever. Now, I am spending all night in the back of his truck, staring at the stars, and my heart on the verge of bursting from excitement.

We listen to music, and just randomly talk. No real conversation, just irrelevant questions. I put my knees onto the dashboard and sink into my seat. It's more comfortable for me, and he seems fine with it. Out of nowhere, he decides to do something I wish he hadn't. Slowly, with his eyes staring into mine, he moves his face closer to where my head is. He ends up so close to my face I could have kissed him. Nothing more in the world I want at this moment than to close my eyes, and let instincts take over. He pulls back, and does his usual 'I don't know why I just did what I just did' expression. Wide eyes, mouth agape slightly. It's cute, and I love it because it's his. With his hands raised, I could not help but laugh, and he drops them to the steering wheel, at which time I asked if he is tired.

After around 4:00 a.m. I convince him that he is tired, and since he has more driving to do that he should head home. He takes my advice, and although I suffer a loss of time with him, I am freed of the temptation that could ruin what we have.

I am regretting ending the night so early the moment he pulls into my driveway. I come to the hard realization that we must part paths prematurely, but it may be for the better. His better, if anything. I shake his hand; he grips mine firm and warm. He looks to the side, and avoids direct eye contact for the moments are hands meet. All I want at this moment is to grab his forearm and pull him closer to me, kissing him softly just once. I release my grip, and he does too. I smile inside at the mutual consent we share; knowing when enough is enough without having to say a word.

As I leave the truck, I take one last glance and wave my hand quickly downwards in a final, desperate goodbye. Without looking back I head up to my front door. He pulls out of the driveway after a short pause, as if he forgot something.

Once I get inside, I feel relieved. I survived another outing with the love of my life, the first person I have ever really liked in that way. I begin to stumble up the stairs, and although I am full of energy I think it's best to fall asleep. When I sleep, I dream of him. And dreaming of him is the closest I may ever come to being with him, and for his sake, I hope it is.