SHAMEFUL CRUSH.

I love rainbows.

They remind me of the spectrum, how unique we all are, and how our differences make such beautiful sense when we appreciate them and bring them together.

However, this time round, the rainbow is a stark reminder of where I am. I’m sitting on the rocks, a sheer 800m drop down the Thompson falls in Nyahururu. The mainstream water gash is about 15 metres away and its loud roar has stopped frightening me. The resultant subzero spray is landing on my flushed cheeks and kinky hair.

I love it here.

By my side, with his feet calf-deep in the water and ripped jeans folded up to his knees, is my current crush. This gorgeous human oozing masculinity from his skin pores is throwing the sexiest sideways glance at me over his aviator hazel brown sunglasses. The wind has blown away his azure shirt to reveal a simple gold chain across a gleaming toned chest.

Yeap, I remember the day we met as if it were yesterday. My mind loves to play that moment in high definition, as if to remind me that lady luck smiled on that bright Thursday afternoon when I sat right under the router in the Art department of our school. Taking a break from peering into my little smart phone’s Instagram; I looked up to rest my already bloodshot eyes when I saw him.

I am not the kind of girl that flips a lid anyhow; but this time I did. In fact, I gawked like a hawk. He approached me, smiled and sat. His exotic deodorant filled and intrigued my olfactory sense. I swear all the silly little movements my legs made were involuntary spasms by my nervous system that I could do nothing about.

“Hi! Do you know the Wi-Fi password?”

“Yeah!” I stuttered. “Its capital c-a…”

“Just key it into my phone,” he says, handing me a sparkling large obviously exorbitant phone.

Impressive, I muse, as I key in the password, trying to type really fast.

“Thanks!” He half whispered through a set of perfect fangs.

Are you the devil; or are you an angel?

Instagram began to make little sense with my anxiety setting in and getting worse by the millisecond.

Maybe he is an apparition. Jesus! Are you even real?

He was as real as the pat he placed on my shoulder two hours later that startled me so much that I dropped my phone.

“Hey, relax!” he said, picking all five hundred thousand fragments of my phone and putting it together. I was totally flushed. “By the way, I’m Victor, and we should meet again.”

We did, in some little food outlet where I held on to my glass of juice to keep from quivering. He invited me to watch him perform spoken word at an outdoor event. My introverted self sat through the entire event and watched his hard features contort with emotion with every deep line he performed. He was perfect.

Moreover, I, the Queen of #CynicalAboutLove, was in love.

Now here we are, reminding y’all awesome people that he is my crush, not boyfriend.

Yet.

I want to tell him how I feel. I am having real sleepless nights because these (gross) unresolved feelings are fodder for my anxiety. I am keeping busy; writing essays, poetry, schoolwork, housework, exercise! Nothing doing.

I’m here, totally relaxed in his overwhelming presence; no anxiety nor sadness. His presence is enough to save me, to remind me of what deep happiness is. I feel complemented. I don’t feel like this empty shell, like I have a big empty heart anymore. I promise it ain’t my hormones either; my SSRIs ensure those stay on an all time low. I genuinely want to hold his hand, look him in the eyes and tell him l want him. In true #ZeroChills fashion.

But hey! This is the twenty first century. I’d be a total desperado in other humans’ eyes. Especially my friends; they would roast me on the group chat for hours. Not to mention the fact that he is gorgeous and most likely taken; either by another girl or by a narcissistic ego. What if I got hurt? I know, not even Daktari would save me from this one.

I smile back at His Royal Cuteness and sigh.

What do I do? Sit and play friend or take my place as Her Royal Majesty?

This waterfall though. It has no fish!