SNUCK BACK ON TUMBLR FUCK YES.
So there’s this dude that lives right next to my dad.
Here’s a picture, the pink square is my house, the blue square is his house.
He’s my age, and we’ve lived this close to each other for nine years.
We’ve never spoken, but anytime we’re both outside, we just kinda stare at each other. I think we’re both shy or something, because usually we both fucking run back into our houses at the same time.
Today he was outside mowing the lawn with his dad (and he was wearing this tank top and just hot dayum) and I was out in my driveway airing up my bike.
Once again, we just fucking stared at each other. He couldn’t run away because he was helping out his dad, so what do I do?
I hop on my bike and pedal away as fast as I can.
Just.
ugh.
I wish I could talk to him or he would talk to me.
But I can’t exactly go ring his doorbell and say “Hey I’ve had my eye on your for nine years let’s go hang out”.
.
