< He wonders if she will always be a fantasy, if always she will be distant, an image in a photograph, and would he blow his chance to ever share more if he told her how he feels, if he told her of his lusts for her image, if he told her how much she turns him on. He wonders if he would he blow any chance of knowing her if he asked for a photo of her skin, of all of her skin, every inch, every pore, all of her. He wonders if he would be laughed at or mocked, would he never have the chance to be her friend. He wonders what would happen if he was honest with her, with his feelings, with her beauty in his eyes.

He does nothing but smile.

Instead, he holds out hope that she'll notice him and tell him what she wants from him so he can be exactly that and nothing more. >