Five guys, five almosts.

You were my best friend, leaving for another state, and I was trying to joke away the pain of those last moments. You tackled me onto a recliner, hovered over me for a moment, and then walked away. I so badly wanted you to kiss me, but you didn't.

A year later. We walked out of a friend's house, and you tickled me until I retreated into my car. I was on my back across the two front seats, and you leaned in over me. I held my breath, but that only made my racing heart sound louder. I waited anxiously for you to kiss me, but you didn't.

Six months later. My head was on your lap, and you leaned over to kiss me. I saved us both. I turned my head away.

Two years later. You stopped to say goodnight, and you hesitated before moving toward me. I threw my arms around you before you could see the horror in my eyes at what was narrowly avoided.

Two weeks later. You had me by the wrists to keep me from beating you with my shoes. I would've given up the world for you to kiss me. You didn't.