You had a plan. A really good one, if you say so yourself. It was a really simple plan, you play together, then you meet up after the show, tell her you're leaving, then you leave.
Simple as that, right? Completely foolproof.
Or so you thought.
Then your whole plan got wrecked before it even started.
Seeing her in a skirt immediately killed at least a 60% of your remaining braincells, which made you forget like half of the imaginary script you had been setting up the whole day.
Then you just catch yourself eyeing her from the DJ booth every now and then, as if you were afraid she was gonna get lost or suddenly vanish into thin air, and you think to yourself, hey, maybe the plan is still on anyway, right?
And then she gets to the rose cart. And you feel your brain going into an entire shutdown. So you're not just eyeing her anymore, you're sure your staring is so intense it could perfectly pierce through her skin at any moment. And then you're not staring anymore, because she's looking this way and you can feel every single cell of your body freeze immediately.
And so she walks away, a rose in your hand, and you just know that said plan you worked so hard for, was already destroyed completely.
So you're kinda glad that she hasn't shown up on the rooftop yet, because there's just so much going on in your head, or more likely, in your heart. And you can't help but smile at that thought. Because you're not that kind of person, you never had been, the one to smile to herself out of nowhere thinking about someone, the one to be terrified about having a conversation with someone else. And you just wonder how did she do it, how did Alex Chen bargain into your life like that and set everything upside down in just a couple weeks? You're ready to start blaming everything on that weird superpower of hers when you hear someone opening the door, and there it is again, the feeling of not having enough oxygen to breathe into, of your heart trying to punch it's way outside your chest, of your brain screaming all sort of nonsense and, at the same time, going completely blank.
And you start talking, not even sure of the words coming out of your own mouth, and the excitement replaces every other feeling you had had moments ago, and you both joke around, and she says she's happy for you, but you don't need a superpower to tell that she's troubled, which you understand. But you're not finished yet.
"Then come with me"
You hit another level on the Gingrich-excitement-scale, and you just get carried away, blurting out about the possibilities, about the life you could have. The life you both can have.
Then you're done talking, but there isn't an answer.
And you worry, so you turn around, and just looking at her expression you know everything was just too much, you know she needs to process it.
But your brain has never been good to get in sync with your words, so you just let out something you didn't even know you were holding back.
"...You mean the fucking world to me."
And you just feel the need of having it. Her superpower. To just look at her and immediately know what she's thinking. How she feels. If she needs you half as much as you need her.
And then she kisses you.
And maybe, just maybe, you don't feel the need of having a superpower anymore.
