Crush.

a park bench dedicated to Alice Baynes

It starts in Verona Park on a green bench dedicated to a dead woman named Alice Baynes. Together we sit and observe the atmosphere around us: the birds, the trees, older couples walking by. I can feel his eyes laying on me as I can't quite fixate my eyes onto his. There's a hazy feeling all around me as his legs slightly brush against mine, his brown eyes shimmer in the light of the sun. Silence pushes words of curiosity from his thoughts as they tumble down and out into the warm, summer air like clouds in the sky.

It's summer and I'm sitting on a bench dedicated to Alice Baynes. He says, what's something that makes you uncomfortable? A river of ums' and uhs' tumble out of my mouth. A keen smile spreads across his face, he puts his fingers to his eyes and says, what about this? I realize he's referring to prolonged eye contact and can feel heat rush to my cheeks again... because he's right.

"We probably should have planned this out in advance," he turned to me and laughed, "How far is Verona Park from Montclair anyway?"

It's 35 minutes. The whole walk there we talk and laugh together in the essence of making up the plan of this not-date as we go. I feel a light, airy feeling flutter in my stomach.

While the night went by I remember sitting in our Uber ride home dissecting every moment from that day. Like when I was crossing the street in the typical, daydreaming, jaywalking way in which I usually do and he put his hand on my lower back. Or when I went to the cashier with my debit card in my hands, gelato dripping from the cup, and he insisted on buying it for me.

When I went to confirm with my older sisters whether or not this not-date was a date, they told me it was simple: if he doesn't clearly state that it's a date, it isn't one. But when I went on to recall all the things that made me question this throughout the night, my sisters smiled and said, "Well maybe he's too scared to admit it." Maybe.