She writes me back with a smiley face and I feel a sense of relief. Every day that she still wants to hang out with me is a good day. This is the first time I’ve ever felt this way about a girl—like I can’t get enough of her. Usually girls get annoying after an hour or so. Texting, phone calls, lunch dates? Hell no. Not until now. Now I come home from work and pray that she’ll want to come over, that I’ll get the little smiley face reply day after day. So far she’s never said no. I fear the day that she grows tired of me. I do a quick cleanup of my room, tossing dirty clothes into the hamper, pulling my bed sheets up so that the bed is sort of made. We usually spend all of our time on my futon in front of my TV, but I want the place to look nice anyway. Then I jog downstairs and wait for her on the back patio. Her face glows from her cell phone screen as she walks over. “You should play this game,”
