I dig in my heels, I try to resist. But the harder I fight, the more it overcomes me.
Much of my energy goes into maintaining the appearance of not wanting you. I preen and strut and sway and catch your eye, and then pretend I don't notice you looking at me. And when you flirt, I act like I'm immune to it, but I do a bad job. When our eyes connect, I treasure those moments and replay them in my head even as I tell myself that I'm over you.
I try to ignore the fact that my pulse quickens when I'm near you. I avoid looking at your hands. I try to keep myself as distanced as I can, but you're not helping.
How dare you kiss me? How dare you appreciate my beauty? You are the Great Unattainable. You are What Might Have Been. You hover just beyond my reach. You tempt me, and thus you taunt me.
Damn you and your beauty.