She's beautiful when she dances.

Don't get me wrong. I think she's beautiful no matter what. But there is just something about her when she dances.

She takes my breath away.

Literally. I'm watching her now, practicing with Mike on stage, and I'm having trouble inflating my lungs. They burn.

And it's not just my lungs that burn. It's everything. Every part of me feels inflamed. Like every step she takes sparks a new fire.

I long for it. That exhilarating burn. I don't think I could live without, and I don't want to.

I don't think I should feel this way. Watching my best friend dance shouldn't make me feel this way. I mean, I realize I have told her how I feel about her. That I love her. But she chose to stay with him. This feeling should be reserved for him.

At that thought, my eyes are pulled from her graceful form to that of her boyfriend's. I can tell he is just as entranced in her moves as I always am. It's like being dropped in an ice bath. It's gone in that moment. The heat.

The second I stop feeling that fire, her fire, I miss it.

But I know it's only a matter of time before she comes to me. One day she'll be dancing for only me.

I turn my eyes back to her, and once again the flames ignite.