I lost that damn piece of paper that I wrote her phone number down on.

I knew as I tore it off of my notebook and scribbled it down as she read those digits through her soft, light peach lips that something would happen. I knew that I’d end up regretting that I just didn’t unzip my bag and write down the number on that notepad I got from my sister the day after that party. I’ve spent approximately 30 minutes trying to remember just the area code, realistically our future communication is about as probable as our original meeting.

If I wouldn’t have been so distracted, if I would have been looking at my bag instead of into her eyes. Looking at which one of my 15 pockets I stuffed the paper into instead of reading the titles of the books that were in her bag. If I wouldn’t have been so preoccupied I would have her number right now, maybe I’d have her heart or at least her head lightly positioned on my left shoulder blade.

Damn her for distracting me, damn me for allowing myself to be so easily distracted.

So now I’m sitting here, at my pivoting desk (which is also slightly off balance and tips occasionally) remembering her eyes instead of being reflected in them and fumbling through my mind for a picture of her smooth lips instead of kissing them. Maybe I could clean up the night really well and spill this glass of water on my iceberg of a bed.

Categories: but, gets

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