It's all so new, and i find myself blushing as i speak his name. Blushing, as if i'm back in eighth grade. That was surely the last time i blushed over a boy.
A part of me wants to tell no one, to cherish this very new (yet very old) sensation for as long as i can. It's mine, mine and his, and i want to savor it.
Another part of me wants to tell everyone, to have the awkward pleasure of blushing and laughing and being teased as i whisper the things he said about me, about my beauty and warmth, about how he blushes around me.
I feel all twirly inside.
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