Fixation

I Would Follow You To Hell, Kelly Michaels

"Follow me. My car is parked over there," you tell me, as you walk in front of me, your purse hanging down your arm.

Follow you? Yes. A thousands times.

You don't know this, Kelly Michaels, but I would follow you to hell.

"Where are you taking me? Is this a kidnapping?" I joke but you remain quiet as you open the door and climb into the driver's seat and I follow suit without hesitation, sitting myself next to you.

I steal glances at you as you drive and sometimes I catch you smirking but I can barely control myself, let alone try to interpret your signs. You're so close to me, the closest you've ever been, yet your lips are as tight as ever. You refuse to address me even when I try to make a joke.

I'm desperate here. Desperate to know what this all about. Desperate to hear you talk to me again, desperate to look into your eyes but you remain straight and rigid as you drive.

I don't know where you're taking me but I'm ready to be anywhere, as long as you're there with me.

"So. How's it going with that dude you went in a date with, last night?" I ask you, and even I can hear the anger and jealousy in my own voice.

For a moment, you just smile and then you answer me, "be patient, Kyle Evans. We're almost there."

I've never heard you utter my name before and I don't know how to control the urge to kiss you right now, and tell you how much I loved hearing my name fall from your beautiful lips, how much I love how close we are right now.

How much I love you.

But I force myself to do as you say, and stay patient.

We arrive in front of your apartment building and you park the car.

I've already known where you live, because the moment I noticed that you weren't staying on campus, I had to find out where you slept. So, one day I let my obsession get the better of me and I followed you here. I've even figured your apartment floor and number.

If only you knew.

"Come on," you say to me, after you've parked the car and we've both stepped out.

I watch your ass jiggle in your skirt as you walk up the stairs in front of me, not quite believing that this is actually happening. That I am actually with you. That you are actually acknowledging me.

We take an elevator to the fourth floor where you live and walk side by side, in complete silence until we arrive at your front door.

You open the door and with a gesture, you tell me, "after you, Kyle Evans."

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