The Fear Lying Underneath

I like him. I like him a lot. I don't know if he notices me. I don't think he knows I notice him. I wish he would do more than look at me. I wish he would talk to me, text me, call me, anything. Everyone sees it, why won't he say anything? He says some stuff, quietly, in secret, not knowing that I hear. His eyes say what his heart's afraid to. Me and my friends test him- when they say stuff to him, and I'm around, he's so careful of what he says and does. But when I'm gone, or he thinks I am, his crappiness really shows through the facade, the mask, the pretenses he doesn't know I see right through, all disappears. Maybe that's why he doesn't talk-he knows I see the real him. Maybe. But, maybe, just maybe, he doesn't talk to me for the same reason I don't talk to him-the fear lying underneath our games.