Dear Aaron

by Mariana Zapata

“I mean this in a totally platonic way, okay?” I warned him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him dip his chin once more, and I wasn’t going to pay attention to the way his mouth was doing that fluctuating thing again. Amused, happy, mocking, and back all over again. Why? Why couldn’t he just be plain looking or be so good-looking and not be so direct with his stare? Because that wasn’t my luck, and I knew it. I coughed. Then I did it. “You’re gorgeous,” I said to him almost painfully, prying the words out. “Like… the army should put you on their recruitment ads or put you as the face on their website. I feel like I can’t look you in the eye or I’ll turn into stone, and they’ll need to add my statue to a garden of other women who have made eye contact with you before and lost their lives.” Aaron just stared at me for a moment, just a moment, and slowly that wavering smile turned into a full-fledged one, one with straight white teeth and warmth to it that couldn’t be faked, that could have had angels singing and playing harps in the background. “You smile a lot more than I thought you would,” I kept going. “You said you never really smiled while you were over there.” “I don’t usually smile so much,” was his cryptic answer. I scratched at my neck again and watched him, nerves making a nest in my belly. Anxiety prickled at the center of my chest, and so, so hesitantly I said, “I was worried you were going to be disappointed meeting me.” Those brown eyes seemed to twinkle a ...

Ima melt