Pizza,
      beer,
      then some couch time.

What was even on TV?
  I barely followed.

How could I, when she looked like _that_?
                (and sounded like *that*)

Every movement,
  every glance,
  every effortless way

  she pulled my attention and never let it go.

And then—
         closer,

         *Finally*

The warmth of her against me—
    soft _and_ solid,
    quiet _and_ loud,

    all simultaneously.

No more hesitation,
      holding back,

      no more warning signs flashing red.

Just her,
      me,

     and the quiet proof that maybe,

     (just maybe)

     we’ve solved the mystery of us.

No fanfare,
   no overplaying the win,

   but still—
             huge.

Now—
    the question lingers.
    unspoken…
             but…
                 *felt*

I want to see her again.

Soon. (Now.)

But maybe I’ve had too much of her time.

Maybe I should let her breathe.

Maybe I should wait until she says when.

Or maybe—
   just maybe…

   she already knows I’m waiting.