on letting it go

You may feel alone when you're falling asleep, And everytime tears float down your cheeks, But I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet, Someday you will be loved.- Death Cab for Cutie (Someday you will be loved)
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You have an interesting taste in guys,

I glance up and the daring boy with grey eyes who on too many occasions has seen into my heart smiles as he pours another beer.

I want to tell him there's too much head, but I suspect he'd say I was avoiding the answer, and chalk it up as a victorious observation.

I never like to give him the satisfaction, and I'm not even sure I heard him right-

Excuse me?

I say the words more as if I'm trying to grasp what he said and less that I didn't hear.

He repeats himself:

You have an interesting taste in guys.

I don't know what you're talking about,

I fiddle with the pen in my hand as I force myself not to let my gaze rest on the subject of his objection to my taste.

Don't you?

There's a tease in his voice; a dare for me to accept his challenging tone, to take him on and defend what he thinks is true.

But I don't really want to, and as he looks behind me to a table I don't turn around.

Maybe diverting the subject is that way to go-

Well, what does that say about you?

I didn't say bad taste, just interesting.

a laugh in his voice, as he smiles at me, easy going.

I don't like anyone right now.

I say it as firmly as possible- maybe trying to convince myself, too.

I don't believe you.

He says it in such a way I'm surprised.

Well I don't.

I walk away.