tristane

So I had invited Chubby over for badminton tonight. He had brought his girlfriend, and although there is nothing in particuarly wrong with the girl she embodies some of the worst qualities a girl can have. That is a general attitude of Not Even Trying and laid for complaining when she thought Chubby sent too many balls my way.

They had left after an hour and I, not feeling that I was quite finished, went down to the gym and hit the bike for 25 minutes and chatted a bit with the other guys. Before I left I went back to the hall to watch some of the other guys playing. These guys are awesome, and it was a joy to watch them.

Then Ace called at me. He and some other guys were playing at the other side of the hall.
"Come join us here! Patrick is just about to leave."
Heart pounding in my chest, I went over.

For almost an hour I played side by side with him. It was strange. I don't know how I feel about him. I can't really admit that I have a crush on him, but he makes me nervous and when all this is over, he is the one person I would want remembering me. I am thrilled that he is talking to me. I was almost trembling when I realized I would be playing a set with him.

After the second set, lost by only a minimal margin, and the clock approaching nine-thirty the general consensus was to dismantle the net and go back to the village.
"Unless you want to play more, Ace and Tristane."
We simultaneously shook our heads. It was getting late and I had been in the gym since seven and needed time to sleep, but the question caught me off guard.

I still haven't forgotten the walk in Skillingaryd, or the department dinner last year.

I need his picture. I need to draw him. I've got him under my skin.