The Mutant (1)

My vanity is currently at full blast, fueled on by my new gorgeous gay roommate who seems to compliment my appearance at every other turn.

I have a new crush at the gym. I call him The Mutant because he is unbelievably tall, broadshouldered, long necked, and has the tiniest waist that would make any petite girl jealous.

I noticed him first because he kept staring at me in the lockerroom. He seemed like an overly tall kid with muscle on him. But boy has he filled out in the last 3 months. I get hard just about every time I see him. Lest I neglect to mention, his face is insanely gorgeous too. Enormous dark green eyes hooded by long dark brown locks sit atop his broad gleaming smile.

After some initial conversation, we realized we had a good deal in common. However, he struck me as being closeted and thus dangerous since I could see myself liking him. So I've distanced myself.

I had decided to talk to him because I had caught him looking terrified when I nearly made eye contact with him while he was checking me out. He's terrified of me? Even if it is indirectly terrified, I was quite taken aback that someone so stunning could have such a reaction to me. It merited a conversation.

He's noticed the distance. He notices me, always. He's an expert at hiding his true emotions, a realization I have just made. I have seen him freak out over me, and then 10 minutes later, walk past by me, cool and collected, staring at his blackberry, as if I were the last person in the world with whom he would care to talk.

Our second conversation, one prolonged by his rambling and my ability to ask almost innumerable questions, left me unable to determine whether he was rambling out of nervousness or whether he was just self-absorbed. He seemed totally aloof to me emotionally, although what seemed like his struggle to make casual eye contact suggested the exact opposite.

After establishing this distance, he has unfortunately caught me drooling over him a few times. So, I reasoned, since he is probably straight, he now thinks me a wierdo.

Firmly entrenched in this belief, today I proceeded to stretch near him. The gym was packed, so this was not on purpose. Our movements did not necesitate eye contact, yet his peripheral vision caught me. He turned swiftly to me, betraying perhaps a bit more than a hint of intensity in his subsequent gaze directed at me, and almost as quickly, the thick veil of aloofness that guards everything he feels, fell, deafening his expression to a simple smile and wave. His hair fell over his cheekbones and I nearly came right there and then. Has he gotten somehow even more attractive in the past couple of weeks?

Moreover, he acknowledged me. He's not wierded out by me despite catching me drooling over him???

I couldn't help but break out in too a large school girl grin. I waived and crouched into my stretch simultaneously. Then came the kicker. He turned to assume the posture of the exercise he was performing. Then, an instant later, he turned back to look at me, with that swiftness again, except this time, the intensity could not be much hidden. He stared at me for a beat. His mouth almost seemed to hang open. I held him in my peripheral vision examining his face closely without ever looking at him directly. And then I saw what he would not say, "Aren't you going to come over to talk to me?"

So much for wierding him out. He wants to talk to me?

The bitch in me thinks, "Well, why don't you come over here like a man, Mr. Gorgeous, and just talk to me?"

Then the reasonable me retorts, "Can't you see he's shy as fuck and wants desperately to pretend like you don't matter to him? Don't you realize that even casual initiation of conversation would make him feel exposed and naked before you?"

But why?

You know why.

Ugh. I tell myself that this is wishful thinking. But even if it is not, he's still buried in a closet. He's like a perfect gem that you must have but that is encased in an impenetrable see-through box.

What will I say to him tomorrow?????