The hardest words for me to say

You're standing to my right. Our arms - your left, my right - periodically brush each other as we carry on conversations with others. We're standing closer to each other than we really need to.

Yes, it's crowded, but either of could create a bit of breathing room if we wanted.

We each hold a bottle of Red Stripe. We've had them since I asked if you'd like a drink and you said yes with a smile. What did you want? Whatever I was having. Yes, Red Stripe sounded great.

You missed the huge grin I had to repress before placing the order at the bar.

Two, please.

I'm sipping, staring at the band performing ahead while taking quick glances at you from the corner of my eye. You have a focused smile on your face, and you're ever-so-slightly nodding your head in time to the percussion beat. We've been alternating between the performance on stage before us and the baseball game broadcast on the television behind.

When I switch from one to the other, you've followed shortly thereafter. And vice versa. And so it is this time.

You place your hand on my back to get my attention and keep it there as you lean over to speak into my ear. I tuck a strand of hair behind the other ear and smile as you mention your goodnatured frustration with the home team. We enjoy a shared commiseration that has been established long before, but it leads into laughter and witty exchange. And then we switch back to watch the stage.

Where is the pause button when I need it?

I want to stay here like this. I want to keep you to my right, wearing the green and orange track jacket that compliments the brown in your eyes. I want to continute to feel your elbow brush against my arm, and I want to maintain the playful banter that brings with it the pokes and the hands on backs and the titled head looks.

But I want to fill the gaps in the story with our subtexts. I want to tell you how happy I am to be standing by your side, drinking Jamacian beer and leaning over to speak to you in a loud room. I want to tell you that I like you.

I like you. Simple enough expression. Three of the hardest words for me to say.

Instead, I'm focusing on the moment. The arm brushes. The fact that you're standing here, with me, and not with whoever else you know in this room.

I raise my arm to take another sip. You do the same. We jostle elbows and we both smile.