tattoos and photos

twelve.

12.

They had been meeting at the same spot everyday, at the same time for over a month now. The trees began to turn a shade of deep auburn and the air was becoming crisper.

"I like that one the most," she said admiring the tattoo of a colorful bird on his arm.

She was eating the raisins he had bought her, she hated raisins.

She would never know, but that was his happiest tattoo. He pointed to her and smiled, "I like you," he said to her.

Then he realized what he had said, and how cheesy he had sounded. He cleared his throat and turned to look in a different direction.

"I like you," she smiled at him.

He turned back to her then. He started searching her eyes. He didn't see what he wanted to there, so he spoke again.

"No,"  his tone was serious all of a sudden, "I like you, a lot"

He said this as if it were a warning.

He felt his chest constrict in the moments before her response. He was just about to stand and hurry away from the park. He wished a black hole would eat him alive. He wished he was anywhere but here. Anywhere that wasn't so close to her.

Her scent.

Her eyes.

Her stupid smile.

"I was hoping you'd say that."