I made fun of him, he made fun of himself. He told me stories and I was enthralled.

I'm wary, though. I'm wary of guys like him who are self-centered (not in a mean way, it's just a fact, it's just who they are). You have to fight with them for conversation. That said he's just so lovely and funny and maybe interested and I think I could really like him and he makes me laugh like no one. And I love laughing, I love feeling good about myself even if my stomach hurts and my eyes are watering. I love it and I want to know him better.

Maybe that's why I can't get him out of my mind, why I'm replaying every moment together and smiling to myself in bed. I'm not hungry (and it's a cliche but thinking about him is enough). I wonder if the emotional baggage we all carry will show itself - I want to know about his past and I want to know if he wants me to be in his (however short and near) future. I want him to kiss me and find out if we have the spark or not; I want to spend hours with him talking and laughing and having fun. I want to tell him all of this but of course, I can't.

Happiness is just within my grasp. Shall I take it? I don't think I have a choice. I have to. I want to.