I've always searched for something.
Pretty much since I could understand and see myself as a individual human being.
"Jackson, what are you doing?" Mother asked me when she found me alone in my room, talking to someone I pictured in my head, the boy I found in the beach a couple of days before.
I was eight.
"I'm introducing him to my power rangers," I murmured, completely absorbed in my imagination, watching as the invisible boy paid attention to my mother as she smiled in a understanding way, thinking it was weird and funny at the same time.
"What's your imaginary's friend name?" She kept smiling, not really getting into my room, but leaning on the doorstep. A party was happening in the house and outside the door everything was loud and full of known faces, faces that I was learning to know that applied meaning in my life, as the shy kid that I was.
He's not imaginary, you met him at the beach," I explained myself as I made moves with my dolls. The black Power Ranger was my favorite.
"At the beach? You mean, that boy that tried to push and fight with you?" She twisted her bronzed, toned by the sun face. All sharp and with some artificial touches here and there.
"He was just nervous, but he's cool." I explained, watching the boy smiling at me.
I knew it was in my imagination, but something stronger than me wanted it to be real.
I have never seen him again in my entire life and I was twenty one now. I have changed too much. I couldn't even picture how he would look like nowadays.
"D'you want something to eat?" She offered me, sunglasses covering her chinese eyes. A wrap in her right hand, the one she used to give it to me not really paying attention.
"Thanks." I felt the sun burning my right arm, being exposed in the sun in a area that the parasol couldn't reach. The humid, white and fine sand covered my feet and my body was confused between feeling cold or too hot.
The waves were crashing in front of our eyes. Blue sea with green undertones, people everywhere.
It wasn't summer, but it was for us, natives. The temperature was twenty degrees and it was considered one of the hottest years in Hong Kong. We traveled back home to celebrate a holiday in family, as we usually did.
It was April 4th, Saturday, Qingming festival, year of 2015. Middle of spring.
My mind just kept reminding me of that day, when I was a kid, 13 years ago. I was shy and timid, even though my insides were burning with excitement and ideas on how to properly celebrate the holiday.
I met a Korean kid, round face, sharp and dark eyes, like most of them had. Black hair, sun-kissed skin, glowing under the sun, but he had this displeased face, as if his favorite food was over.
I had no idea who were his parents and where they could possibly be. The water was warm where we were sitting side by side in silence, each with one of my Power Rangers. He was holding the black one, making me nervous and slightly uncomfortable.
I had to play with the red one and although I didn't quite liked him, I kind of felt like him most of times: proud, brave, sometimes explosive and a fire starter.
But I liked the black. He was powerful, mysterious, full of tricks and low-key antissocial. I was nothing like him, but I had this subconscious admiration towards him. And he was holding it too strong.
"Why are you so pensive? Are you tired?" My dad asked, out of education. He was too busy reading a programming book, which made him look younger than he truly was - and of course, he knew about it. A hundred percent forced.
"I'm just thinking. I met a boy at this same spot 13 years ago when we came to this same festival." I commented, knowing that if my dad was really listening, he would emphasize the part that it was a boy, just to look like the cool, accepting parent that he wanted to be. Ironically, my parents were more conservative when it came to making up my bed every morning after I got up then with whom I chose to relate emotional and sexually - which was a relief.
"A boy," He repeated in another type of voice, as if teasing me, but there was nothing to be teased about, actually.
"Yeah. He was Korean and he was really deep into the idea of killing my black Power Ranger with the strength of his chubby fingers, I just can't forget it."
"Hm," He stared at me, having a gulp of his iced beer. A spot on his face with non-spread sunscreen, leaving a white mark on the bridge of his nose, made me smile.
"I also couldn't understand a single word he was saying, but we managed to communicate, somehow." I stared at the horizon, watching as the one in the afternoon big clouds faded into the blue sky. The sun was almost blinding, shining and reflecting in the water where children were playing. A familiar scene and feeling. I loved the beach.
"Incredible. You have your dad's communication skills." Was all he said, before returning to his book.
These were the conversations between me and my parents. They were never the grown up ones, always talking about themselves and forgetting to focus on me.
I wasn't finished. There were plenty of details I wanted to add, like: I was concerned about the boy. He had bruises in his legs and arms. At that time I thought he was just too adventurous or maybe he got into a lot of fights since he was so aggressive. He took the black Power Ranger from my hand and the only word I was able to understand was pabbo. The way he smiled when he looked at my disappointed face, as if he was happy to make me miserable. It was such a shocking scene. Something I would never forget. Something to be present in all moments for the rest of my life, and so I searched for something.
I didn't quite knew what. If it was some object, money, a status or someone. I just had this feeling that I've lost something out there. Something that it deeply belonged to me, in all forms and ways.
It was somehow connected with that boy. With the way he made me feel.
I wasn't referring to my doll, though, nah.
He gave it back to me, with a smile on his round face, squishy cheeks showing me his teeth for the first time. It simply made me smile too.
I got it. I got the way he felt and he was right. He had the right to be aggressive. The way his dad shouted at him for silly things or made unnecessary observations, just to make him feel uncomfortable in some way. It bothered me, but the feeling wasn't as strong as the way I felt when he played with me and how happy he was about it, even if we couldn't understand each other. It lasted all the afternoon and when we waved each other goodbye, it broke my heart.
I had my heart broken for the first time that day, with only eight years old.
He had to leave me, in tears. His mother tenderly carrying him away.
I cried to sleep too and no one understood. No one saw.
I didn't even knew his name.
"I love this place." I sighed, resting my head between my crossed arms jolted back.
Painful memories made me the best of me, surprisingly.
I became better and better with every sad memory that popped in my mind.
"I'm going for a swim." I announced, taking my shirt off, standing up and giving them no time to say something. Not that they would.
Moving pass other people sitting closer to the water, I sniffed the smell of the sea. The salty, refreshing and humid air, full of memories. I watched the kids running, having fun in their imaginary worlds, sand castles and plastic toys. The sweet memories I had were so vivid in my head that I could feel the same things every single time my feet touched the warm, transparent water underneath me.
I shivered at the small feeling, as if the sea was inviting me in, just waiting for my body to be immersed, so then the waves would wash my soul and take away all the negativity dwelling in the depths of my heart.
I was alive. Even though there was something missing.
Busan, April 12th, Sunday, 2015.
I was taking the trash out when I saw my new neighborhood.
My mom said they moved yesterday, but I haven't had a sign of anyone since their arrival.
She saw the woman in the arrival day and they actually had a conversation. She said the woman had a son and was divorced. A recently-divorced, actually. Her son was the same age as me and we went to the same university, but he was in an acting major and I was an movie arts producer.
"Annyeonghaseyo." I said, not really sure if I should speak to him.
He turned to me, wearing a cap and loose black clothes, making a gesture with his chin like he was talking back, but without saying a word. I could barely see his face because of the shadows, but somehow his smell got to me. I felt his perfume and turned back to what I was doing, closing the trash can and walking back home. It was citric and kinda sweet.
Nothing else was said, but I had a strange feeling inside my body. Like I was feeling cold from inside - maybe I had a fever. Maybe I was sick, maybe it was the lunch I made myself earlier with ingredients that wasn't supposed to be on the fridge anymore, I just didn't seem to care. My dad was too busy to stop his work and manage what the hell was going on in the kitchen. Dad was always working and my mom was never home, due to her religious group meetings - the ones I was always rebellious - not that it would make any difference if she was home. Most of the time I was alone in the house, but I loved it. I loved that I could put whatever songs that I liked or be loud without having to be careful with the neighbors, as it was back in Hong Kong. I loved that I could speak out loud to myself without anyone pointing me as insane, because it was something I was just too used to do since I was little.
Right now it was not one of these moments. My mom was home making what she likes to call dinner and my dad was watching some american football on TV and it was a Sunday night. I was alone in my room, deciding if the sensual pictures I took would look better in black and white or colored with some vintage shit.
I could make any picture in the world look perfect, except for mines.
"Jackson, dinner's ready!" My mom screamed from the kitchen and I wasn't excited at all, but I was starving, so I jumped off my bed and ran out to the kitchen, eyeing the traditional Korean foods -that she actually knew how to make.
Which was a relief.
"I met the new neighbor." I said, starting the discussion. My dad came to the table and we started making our plates. Mom served us with rice and I served my dad with sundubu jjigae. "The awkward dude."
"Hmm... How was he like?" My dad spoke.
The part that compensated my dad's absence was that when he was home, he spoke like crazy, even though he still kept not really paying deep attention.
"I don't know, couldn't see his face." My shoulders automatically made that move when you don't care that much about something.
"What did he said?" My mom served me and finally settled down, curious about something involving someone that was not part of that family, so she'd have something to share with her friends. It made me kind of disgusted, but only because it was her.
"Nothing. I greeted him, but all he did was raise his chin and do the same thing I was doing with the trash." I was remembering his face - mostly his jawline - and trying to find out what he was up to. Maybe what were his vibrations, energies. If he was cool or if I should keep my distance.
"Maybe he's still tired. You know how moving can be exhaustive." Mom said, filling her mouth with rice.
"I know. I'm not expecting anything though." And it was true, I wasn't.
"Well, you should. It'll be great to have a friend that close from home.''
And she was such a cliche. Pushing her son to someone she found interesting just so she could have control and responsibility over a situation. Fuck off.
After that the dinner went silent, but it was comfortable, at least out of my mind.
"Are your things settled for tomorrow, Jackson? I don't wanna be late for work because of you." My mom was mostly severe all the time, but being raised like that, I've grown used to it.
Actually, it made me stronger.
"Yeah." Also made me quieter. Made me simple and direct, even if I completely changed when I was alone with my friends - I was scandalous, vivid, spontaneous and extra.
And with that hidden "goodnight, son. Sleep well", everyone slept. I slept after finishing the edits on the pictures, around midnight and I knew I wouldn't be ready for college the moment I woke up the day after, but whatever. What is life if not moments you don't want to do something, but have to?
"Wake up..." My mom had this strange behave every morning, to knock on my door, thinking I was still asleep - probably because when I was a kid, I would never wake up. I could be extra reluctant on going to school to try to learn math and all these kind of things that I just couldn't understand.
"I'm on." I said, hoping she could listen, but not really making the effort. I had to beat myself in the shower, just to make sure none of them would listen to my moans in a specific shit voice by the morning.
Grabbing the towel from my chair, I got out of my messy room to finally start my routine. With the shower on and naked, I caressed every single part of my body in a way to check if everything was okay, as if I was able to change it instead of having to deal with my flaws silently, ha. I stared to clean myself with my favorite vanilla soap and feel my body slippery, touching myself and equally caressing, thinking about nothing specific.
I considered funny that I was easily distracted when I was touching myself. Everything could take away my focus and today, the faceless boy with black loose clothes was the thing keeping me from thinking about the last porn video I've watched.
I pictured the woman being fucked in one side of my brain and in the other side, his smell was coming and I started to feel nervous. I haven't fantasized on him or something like this, obviously. Actually, anything could come to my mind when I was trying to touch myself, from dogs, to a series or the vision of flowers, for example.
If I subconsciously thought it was an intriguing scene, consciously I wouldn't let go of it.
But I knew I made it when I felt a twitch coming somewhere down. I felt close when I stroked hard the enough and then I was cuming one more time, letting some breath moans come out of my throat and it felt oh, so good.
I was good at touching myself and equally good at containing my moans knowing exactly what I liked, the pace and the places. That made me satisfied on being alone - I mean, single - most of the time. I've been masturbating since I was fourteen and I could say I was a pro at pleasure.
With four relationships in my back and twenty two Korean years old, I could say not everyone had the lucky opportunity to be touched by me, but the ones I did never forgot my hands. I was an openly pansexual and my parents couldn't care less about it. I was a hundred percent honest with my mom about my relationships and my dad had a clue I was more into men than women, but he never truly cared about the difference in my conception, so I was comfortable. All of my friends were luckily open-minded and a couple of them were bisexual. I was a lucky boy. Given the freedom to be who I was in a society that couldn't deal pretty good with girls wearing tops and boys not completely paying the bills whenever they had a blind date.
Getting out of the shower, I dressed up for my classes and fixed my hair. After some cologne and skincare, I was definitely ready. My mom was rushing me, but at the same time forgetting a lot of things and my dad was in the shower - he would start working later. When opening my mom's car door, throwing her stuffs and mine inside, I saw the boy again. He used the same uniform as me, but the difference was that I wore a grey sweater on top of the shirt and he wore a loose tie, upon a shirt the clearly was not ironed. Relatable.
"Good morning, Jaebeom-ah!" My mom was scandalous, making him realize he wasn't alone outside his house. Same, I thought. My mom could be invasive even out of her house, what a woman.
"Good morning misses Wang." He bowed and his expression couldn't be more blank. He was trying to tie his lunchbox on the back of his bike, but stopped the moves, probably feeling scared of my mom.
I wanted to laugh. He was so fucking relatable.
"Going to UNI? Leave your bike, I can give you a ride!" She wore her best smile with super white teeth, trying to convince the boy that after hearing the "I", looked at me for the first time, turning his body around and I could finally see his face. He wasn't that pale, but he had a typically Korean face, sharp brows and eyes, long nose and thin lips. His jawline was marked, an uncommon feature and he had two moles on top of his left eye, making it look like a piercing. Talking about piercing, he had a lot on his ears and he was taller than me. His shoulders were wide and his legs were slightly out of place, but like the moles, it was a charm.
I just had the feeling I knew him.
I mean, I probably swept my eyes over him once or twice, just because it was impossible not to do it, but...
What a familiar face.
"Thank you misses Wang, but I'm used to do this everyday." And I could finally hear more of his voice. A soothing but powerful tone, seemingly to come out splat by the nose and the throat. He had a strong tone and some marking confidence in the way he spoke - fast and cutting.
I kinda liked how he dismissed my mom, even knowing how rude it was to decline someone else' kindness in Busan. Maybe he wasn't that Korean after all.
"Oh, come on boy," She walked down the stairs of our enormous deck. "It's ridiculous, we are going the same way at the same time..." She wouldn't accept a no as an answer. I just opened the door from behind and got in. "Hurry up, we're gonna be late!" I was inside the car, watching him from the inside mirror. His arched eyebrows and pout becoming evident, until it was just too noticeable - cute.
There was no turning back now.
He untied his lunchbox from his bike and started towards walk the car. I pretended to be surprised, messing with nothing special on my phone when he opened the right back door to get inside, having myself feeling the same smell from before, but stronger. Something tropical and sweet.
It was good, I was getting familiarized with it more than I should. It matched my cologne, something more like wood and fresh.
His hair had bangs, but the sides were buzz-cut and it was a dark black. It was so hydrated that it densely glowed. I wanted to touch him and find out if they were as smooth as they looked like.
"I believe you already met my son, Jackson." My mom got in the car and smiled through the mirror, trying to be sympathetic, but I knew she was trying hard for me to be friends with him, not admitting that I had my own ways of doing things and approaching people. It was like I was a teenager.
"Neng." He said, not looking at my face, but turning to me, which made me kind of upset.
I was probably too used to visual contact and not receiving this attention made me nervous. Made me eager to get it at all costs.
Was he going to be a challenge?
His voice was dry and I was starting to think he didn't liked me, just by the energy he was emanating. I didn't say anything when she started to drive. The silence was mortal, so thick that you could actually grab it. We got my mom's friend on the way and she sat beside her in the car, as usual. "Good morning Jackson!" She spoke to me with the same everyday voice. "And who's this?" She smiled at the boy by my side, having no idea of his temper.
I looked at Jaebeom and he had a clueless face. His untied bow tie making me nervous - why couldn't he just do it properly?
Realizing the continued silence, I decided to speak before it got too weird. He could own me one after that.
"This is our new neighbor, Im Jaebeom. We go to the same UNI." I smiled, trying to end the subject with a simple phrase that revealed everything that she might wanted to ask.
"Nice to meet you, Jaebeom!" She replied, forcing sympathy.
He slightly bowed at her and pushed his lips trying to make a smile, but I didn't liked. It was a smile that didn't suited him - at least I thought, even though I had no idea how his true smile would look like.
Then my mom and her friend went all the way talking. We stood in silence and waited for the final destination.
Getting there, my mom gave me some money to buy lunch and said goodbye to Jaebeom in a expressive happy way, but he only bowed again, thanking her politely, going against the lack of Korean manners I thought he didn't have. He was weird and slightly not interested about anything. It got to a point where it started to trigger me.
"What time do you finish your classes? We can go home together." I said, after almost five minutes of silence, walking through the campus side by side. I was not normal at all for me to be so silent and controlled.
"Around five." Simple, short and cutting. Exactly the way someone replies to you when they don't want to extend a conversation.
Why did he have to stay three more hours? Were his extracurricular activities the same as mines?
"Why do you stay here till five?" I was too curious.
"I have some activities after class." He always spoke only the necessary and part of me loved it, but the other part just grew stressed and anxious It made expectations bloom inside my head.
Of course I knew he had activities, but I wanted to know which ones. And he knew I wanted to know.
Was he playing hard to get on purpose?
"What activities? Like, extracurricular?" I looked at one side of his face, waiting for him to cut me off. In a couple of seconds of conversation, I just knew he was the dismissive type.
"Yep." Too much, too little.
I gave up and we returned to the silence. We got to the main entrance and my friends screamed my name, probably startling him, sending him the double of miles away he already was from me.
It lasted five seconds: I smiled, said hi and something else and when I turned back, the boy disappeared. I could only see the back of Im Jaebeom walking away to somewhere else, until he became invisible in the middle of a ton of students dressed the same way.
Three and fifty o'clock. Time to go home, at least for today, since the dance teacher had something else to do and those responsible for the class couldn't find someone to replace him in time, so no dance class for today.
I walked to the entrance of the university with my friends and we went all together to the bus stop, talking louder than it was necessary.
My mind kept bugging me about Jaebeom and what he could possibly be doing, what were his extracurricular activities and if he was okay.
If he was okay was deep thought. I made no sense, but it was there.
Of course he's okay, he's just shy and... Really uninterested about the world around him.
"Yah, Jackson-si... Are you coming or not?" Jinyoung's voice was deep and husky, and even being younger than me, he had some control over my body and I was not blind... I liked.
"On my way." I said, without rush.
"What's up?" He continued, knowing me too well to tell when my mind was thinking seriously about something. I looked back at him with an intriguing face. He pressed his hand at the side of my body, warming my waist and looking inside my eyes with his deep brown cat ones.
"Nothing." It wasn't a lie. It was just that my thoughts were not that important.
"Hm..." He made that sound when you doubt but at same time, don't insist. "Let's go to my house, then." He looked at me that way again.
Oh yeah, Jinyoung was more of a gay than the bisexual he always claimed to be - and he was mostly a bottom, which was great and necessary.
"What am I going to do at your house, Park Jinyoung?" I arched my eyebrows, looking nowhere. He was hungry and horny and absolutely crazy about the idea of me doing most of the things he imagined to do, things his family could never dream off.
"Just... Chill and you know..." Yes, I knew.
"Not today, Jinyoung-ah." I smiled at him, looking at his lips on purpose, trying to make him impatient - and it didn't take that much.
"Oh, come on... We can have fun... Let's make that night of ours something to be repeated..." He squeezed my waist, going down to my ass. Eyes wandering around, paying attention to the eyes on us.
"My god, are you that horny?" I arched my eyebrows even higher, our friends kind of far from hearing us. He back-hugged me suddenly and pressed his lips on my neck, too daring for someone like him.
"Please, we don't have to do something serious, just some things..." He begged and I loved when someone begged.
"I have homework..." I said, trying to test him.
"Fuck it, I can help you, let's go." It was a final decision, not a question.
He squeezed me one more time after biting my neck and then released me, catching my right hand and intertwining our fingers.
"You don't have to do this, you know?" I said, pointing at our hands, having extra fun at the way he blushed at the intimate contact, knowing we just played couple, but we would never really commit.
"Shut up, I know what I'm doing." He was an asshole.
"Asshole." I said.
We finally got to the bus stop and our friends noticed our hands, but didn't cared at all - they knew. I had everything and nothing in my mind at the same time and the bus to my house was about to pass. Then I sensed this smell... Tropical and sweet, but had more like a wood in the middle, making my body feel sensations.
The bus was coming when his face came out of nowhere. Jaebeom was there, passing through me, trying to reach the entryway of the bus.
"Jaebeom!" I called, more excited than I could manage to control. Saying his name was like being electrocuted. Just something to remember.
I loosened the grip on Jinyoung's hand and the other looked at me through the bus window, walking to the end of the vehicle at the same time.
"Mianhae, Jinyoung, I need to go!" I didn't even look at my friend's face when I let go of his hand, running to take the same bus.
"Yah!" Was all I heard from him when I tapped the card inside the bus, the doors closing, my eyes looking for the boy with dark hair and sharp eyes.
The bus gained movement and I saw him on the back, sitting in one of those high double sits. He was sitting on the window, looking through it.
"Yah..." I said, sitting by his side without asking if I could. "What are you doing here at this time? Don't you have extracurricular activities?" I was curious, but I realized I was also being invasive.
"I don't have extracurricular activities today." Was all he said, still looking through the window. Or ignoring me completely.
"Wae?" I forced. Blame my curiosity.
"My mentor was busy and they couldn't find someone else to replace him in time."
Uh, so he pays dance classes, just like me and the boys...
How the hell I've never seen him before?
"Got it." Yes, I know, I made the subject come to an end, but don't lose hope yet. "Are there any other extracurricular activities that you do?" I restarted.
"Photography." He finally said.
Photography? What the hell?!
"That's completely unexpected..." I added a giggle a the end of my phrase, so it would sound less I know it all and more I had a feeling about you.
"Unexpected?" His voice changed in tone and volume. He turned his head to the front of the bus, as if it was the best he could do to give me some attention. I smiled at nothing, feeling glad that he was falling for the baits I was smartly throwing. I thought it was going to be harder than that.
"How can you be so sure you know me? Isn't that rude?" He looked in the driver's way avoiding my gaze. I copied, feeling the smile growing dryer and dryer, eventually disappearing. "Why are you sitting here anyways? Did I gave you permission to do so? Did I invited you to join me?" Now he was even more defensive, voice expanding to a new tone, that I supposed it was directed only to express his anger.
"Dude, calm down, I didn't mean to sound so invasive..." I stared at the side of his face, not receiving the same attention back. He was turning into something else and it was a matter of seconds until he looked a hundred percent pissed.
"Well, surely sounding invasive it's not the only thing you can successfully do, but you are the full package yourself, getting into things no one asked you for." He looked straight at me for the fist time since we met and I had a full vision of his black, really dark eyes, sharp when focusing on me and I heard imaginary noises, as if the wind was passing through gaps and making this whistle sound. He kept staring and I kept blushing and feeling as a shiver ran down my spine. He was so familiar. Yet I couldn't recognize him.
Where have I seen his face before?
"D'you need some written expelling letter? Get lost!" His gaze was deep and strong and he wouldn't let me in. There was a lot going on at the same time, his eyes, lips, eyebrows, his body language, the heat circling around my body, in my cheeks and ears. My dry mouth and lips, trying to formulate the perfect answer capable of calming him down, but nothing ever came out of me. "What are you looking at? Are you deaf?!" His voice started to grow louder and people around us started to look, wondering what in the world did a foreign like me do to make a native so stressed and disrespectful.
In a jump, I focused on where I was again, standing up and feeling as if I had two left feet. The movement of the bus made me lose my balance for a millisecond or two, but not wanting to embarrass even more, I managed to sit somewhere else, as I was still trying to understand what the hell happened to my mind. Why did I heard things and why I was so hypnotized by the absence of color on his eyes, just simply black and deep. The fact that he had been rude to me didn't metered that much after all, but I still had to understand why did I make him so angry.
Was I that invasive?
I liked to believe I had great communication skills and no one ever felt insulted or uncomfortable, even if they were shy.
What did I do wrong?
He didn't say anything or made any facial expressions, but I had the worst view of him now, from the back of the bus in on of the highest banks.
How did I managed to fuck everything so fast and so hard like this? In a couple of seconds he passed from the potential friend that I could have to the only person on this planet that didn't liked me without a reason. Yes, because to everybody else who disliked or even hated me I gave at least one reason or two and I had no regrets.
But coming from Jaebeom, I just wanted to start all over again and make it right.
The entire trip was silent and then we got out of the bus.
Silent for seven minutes having him three meters away from me, I paid attention on the way he walked. Slightly brushing his feet on the ground and moving his hips in a cutting way. His legs were crooked for the inside and his torso was bigger than them. He's back was arched, but his face was always down, looking at the ground, jet black hair falling on his eyes. His hands in the pockets of his pants and I couldn't hear his breath.
He was such a man... Wide shoulders, muscular, strong body.
The seven minutes walking home were never this fast when I was alone. Sooner, we were in front of his house, he never hesitating to leave me behind - and that said a lot to me.
"Take a ride with us at the same time tomorrow." It was an affirmative phrase. I wasn't asking and I was feeling impulsive. I just couldn't control myself.
Also, I opened the door faster than him, giving no time for a 'no' as an answer, and when I got to my house, I felt out of breath for no reason. A small smile in my lips, the same cold feeling inside, like a fever.
I was not stupid, I was curious, just for the way he made me feel, but I needed time to find out what type of interest was that that kept me returning to think about him.