Dear Dan,

You remember. You remember everything. I can see it behind your eyes. "Jeeze, what happened last night?" you asked me, holding your probably aching head. I brought a pain killer and a glass of water to where you were sitting on the couch. "Lots of things," I replied, hoping my blushing wasn't to obvious. You looked at me oddly, and I think maybe it's because you remember. 

"I must've gotten hammered!" you exclaimed. "I've never had this bad a hang over." I chuckled. "Yeah you've never been so drunk as to kiss me, so that would make sense.." I muttered as I walked back into the kitchen. "What was that?" you hollered to me, and I could practically hear you wince from the loud noise. "I said yeah you drank quite a bit." I lied. I felt bad about lying but I couldn't help it. If you don't really remember what happened, I wouldn't want to be the one to remind you.

As I was walking back in the sitting room, I realized something. What if I told you what you did? What if your feelings were real, it wasn't just the alcohol talking? What if you actually had feelings for me?  I shook my head at the silly thought. No, no way. I gazed at you on the couch, happily watching some sit com. You laughed, and all I could focus on was how melodic it was. I sat down watched tv with you, laughing at all the appropriate times, but mostly staring at you. You were so focused on the show, so you didn't notice, but whenever you happened to glance my way, I blushed and looked to the television.

"Hey Phil, can you go make some popcorn? Pleeeeasseee?" you begged, making puppy dog eyes. I was going to say no and lecture you about laziness like usual, but I couldn't when you were giving me that look. I sighed in defeat. "Alright," I said. You whooped and hummed happily to the theme of what ever we were watching - I wasn't paying very much attention. After I gave you the popcorn, we sat and shared it. Then you said you needed to take a nap, and haven't been up since. You'll be up early tomorrow, instead of at noon like usual. 

I just really hope we can both forget about your drunken mistake. Sure, it was good for me. It was a dream come true - they boy I've loved for four years finally liking me back, and kissing me even. But sadly, you'd never like me. I'm just.. plain old, boring me. Well this is getting a bit depressing, so I'll end it here. 

Yours, Phil