For the first time in my life, I am now the one being pursued. I don't know what this punk sees in me, but he makes me feel like a goddamn girl. Stolen kisses, displays of affection in front of his friends, displays of affection in front of my friends, hands held until they swell, surprise visits, his arms, thin and wrapped around me in front of his friends and mine. I can get used to this. No, I'm not in love. I don't think that will happen. I'm just milking this situation for all the icky goodness that it's worth. Maybe we'll get there. Maybe we won't. My money's on the latter, but I don't believe I care. I'm living the moment, seizing the day, and now I know how it feels like to be the one being pursued. That's something to tell, if anything.