R O L L E R C O A S T E R 

He was coming, walking closer and closer with every step. I couldn't see him but I had looked over my shoulder to search for him so I knew. I shuffled a bit, crossing my right leg over my left only to switch it the other way around. I ran my hand through my hair and moved away the show's program from the seat beside me just in time for him to sit down.

"Thanks for saving me a seat," he says, and I could hear him smile.

I hummed in response, eyes pretending to check my phone for the time, and I felt the sleeve of his shirt brush my arm before a small gap settled between us.

It was just fabric yet my heart warmed.

.

.

We stayed in silence as the lights dimmed down and music started to play. Smooth melodies made by voices filtered in the air and I focused on the dancing performers but my mind was preoccupied. It always was when I'm with him.

I could feel him, feel the heat radiating from his body, could just feel his very presence and energy--it made me nervous and happy. It was the confusing feeling of wanting to fidget and stay still at the same time that lingered in the back of my mind, and I bit my lip lightly.

The feeling of wanting to touch him was there too.

I stayed still. The song switches.

.

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Somehow, in the dark, that gap between us blurred and his knee brushed against mine. Then it was his thigh, his hip, his shoulder. Just small touches yet they made me stiffen, a happy tingle moving from his body to mine.

I leaned closer just a bit and our arms touched. Neither of us moved away.

.

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It's intermission and he'd gone to get something from the concession stand so I followed him with my eyes, letting out a breath I didn't know I held. I could still feel the tingling beneath the skin where we touched and I let out a full smile.

He came back later with two cans of iced tea.

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"You want a cookie?" He whispered, right next to my ear, and his voice made my heart stutter.

"I'm okay," I replied and I watch him take a bite, his lips moving with his chewing and it's when he his lips that I realized that I was staring. I jerked my eyes away and hope it was dark enough that he won't notice me blushing.

"You sure you don't want any?" He whispers again, giving me a sideways look.

I shake my head and focus my eyes on the stage but not before I catch him turning to stare at me. It's a soft ballad playing now and someone's plucking a guitar. I clap when the song finishes a while later.

He's still staring, a certain look in his eye.

.

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We're back to touching--shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee--and I fight the urge to bring us even closer. My eyes were trained on the stage but all I was aware of was him and the points where we touch, where it tingles with warmth, where it feels like it sparks.

But all was lost when he pulled away, shifting his body and crossing his arms over his chest.

The music seemed somewhat somber suddenly.

.

.

The show is almost over and he hasn't moved. I haven't either: faced forward, back to chair, one hand on the edge of my seat while the other softly taps at my thigh. I can't see what kind of expression he's wearing and I frown a bit.

They're thanking people who helped produce the show and it seemed to drag on. In the back of my head, I notice him unfold his arms and settle his hands on the edge of his own seat, fingers almost next to mine.

On stage, the production is doing the last of their thanks before opening the last performance. It's all darkness before lights. burst to make way for some energetic R&B.

It was only a few moments later, right after a soft exhale, that I felt warmth curl around my fingers to shoot tingles up my arm and spread that feeling of absolute euphoria.

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