“Nocturne” by Wild Nothing
Thursday 3:20 PM
In class today, I sat next to the kid—the one who was in my intro literature class last semester. He wrote really well and was from the same gross, wet area of the US as I am. I’m always attracted to the artsy types, especially ones with stubble, and I’m even more intrigued by his shyness. But he is hard to get to know and I’m a pretty locked up person myself; most of the friends I’ve had developed from initial effort on their part, not mine. I was gonna say, my almost-boyfriend? Moby is probably an exception, but after I had asked him to hang out the first couple times he sort of took up that role. I still ask him to hang out, but I think it’s mostly him (probably because he likes me more than I like him).
I’ve found in the past that usually all you need to do is show you’re interested in a person and they’ll return the interest. But not in Lit Kid’s case. And you can tell I have a little crush on him because I didn’t give him an actual name, haha.
This is a big school (well, not huge as far as universities go—like 8,000 undergrads—but way bigger than my high school population of 1,200) and, although I knew Lit Kid and I shared a major, I had virtually no hope of seeing him around or befriending him. So this was a nice surprise. I was also forced to sit next to him in class today. I tried to sit a couple seats down, since I didn’t want to creep him out. He’s hard to read and I think I’ve just come on too strong in trying to befriend him before. That’s my perception at least. He’s given me pretty much nothing to work with, so the truth is I have no idea. Anyway, I sat next to him, said hello. He was polite and said hi back. I then proceeded to spend almost the whole class distracted by him.
I am probably at least a little bit of an asshole, since I do have an almost-boyfriend? on the line. Speaking of which—Moby and I are going to dinner tomorrow and afterwards I’m planning on saying, “We should talk,” *cue the dread.* And from there we will figure out together whether or not to date. I don’t think I want to date him. At least not exclusively. I like cuddling him. I think I’d be okay with him kissing me. But the whole thing is kind of eh. Hopefully he feels similarly, but I suspect not.
Back to Lit Kid! Because I want to talk about his hands. They were so beautiful. The cuticles are all dried and messed up, knuckles rosy, fingers long and tapering. I love boy hands. I love how they’re rough, you know? I thought about it last night—about how my best friend has the softest skin I’ve ever felt, but like. I think I prefer roughness. Texture. Not on my own flesh—I like that to be silky. But on theirs, I like the contrast, and I like that boys get to running their hands up and down my arms and fingers because they like the soft. It’s nice.
He was so fidgety. Tapped his fingers, folded and unfolded them. God, now I wish I paid more attention to the specific movements. I know this is creepy, but I haven’t felt this intrigued by a person in a long time (3 or 4 years?) and I just want to let myself feel it. I usually resist these kinds of things, but that is tiring and I don’t want to be alone in my head anymore. I mean, I probably will be anyways. But I hope that I won’t.
I am going to have to talk to Moby, though. I mean, even if I only think I have a crush on someone else—probs not fair to him. God! I hate social stuff.