Well, she phoned me in the middle of my class around Friday afternoon, then I suddenly found my self packing my clothes in the dormitory and driving the first half of the way up to the mountains using his Father�s Civic with her telling non-stop stories of hilarious events while she lay feet up on the passenger seat Friday evening. Apparently her parents would be out of the country for a week, and her brother was okay with the prospect of being alone in the house, so she didn�t pass up the chance of getting away. Why she phoned me though, still seem a bit vague for me, but I don�t mind.

Who is she? I call her Lyle, an alternative to her real first name Lyla. We met a year ago in a mailing list that involved mostly students from our school, and then I found out she was a frequent on this joint my friends and I usually eat lunch at. I knew her by face, but it was only then that I knew her name.

But see, Lyle isn�t like the other girls I have known, which is also the reason why I preferred to lightly mock her by calling her such name. She�s boyish as hell, but still as intact as a real girl should be–I mean, she�s still straight, and thankfully her clothing choices is still inclined on slight femininity. And as much as some people I know would splurge on make-ups, she would go crazy on books or computer softwares. She�s also one of the most established Ragnarok girl players I know. We became close only over the summer because of our shared classes, but I feel I�ve known her all my life.

And I know her enough I guess to be able to dare sharing a room with her on the hotel we checked in, but picking separate beds, of course. We would go out in the morning, devour quarter pounders at McDonalds, go around the market buying vegetables and experiment on foods, run around the whole place like kids till afternoon, then we spend the time at night getting drunk just outside our room singing drunken Smashing Pumpkins covers and doing invisible air guitars. We would dance around like silly and even dare sing more songs, albeit mostly cheesy songs by boybands. God, it was too much of a drunken fairytale. We could go on living like that forever and we probably wouldn�t mind.

But last night we didn�t fall asleep quickly like we did last Saturday. She did for a few minutes but she woke up again, discovering I wasn�t sleeping yet. She then went to my bed and snuggled up to me, and after a few minutes, she finally found slumber.

I couldn�t count how many sighs I did the whole time. I couldn�t sleep. I stared at her face the whole night I was awake, alternately tracing her face softly with my forefinger. I can�t do much, really, but sigh.

I�ve been stifling this feeling inside me for a long time now. If I wanted to something would have happened between us that night, but I respected her enough not to do it. She was drunk as much as I am but I managed to hinder things amazingly.

I�m afraid I found my self falling in love. But I�m also afraid I wouldn�t be able to tolerate that. I don�t trust my self, and I wouldn�t bear seeing her getting hurt. I don�t think I can really take that.

Starting when we get home, I�ll try to distance myself from her. Back to the campus. Back to reality. This won�t work. I know it.