by From The Mind of The Moharib

Created on: December 19, 2008

The tension was building between us. I could feel it each time I looked at him.

My own insecurities made me unsure if I were the only one who felt this way.

Maybe he was completely unaware of the hunger.

He maintained such a professional demeanor, addressing each of his co-workers with eye contact equally as he spoke to all of us at once. Nothing in his outward appearance or mannerisms would indicate that he was the least bit interested in anything more than friendship with me.

Even so, the intensity in his eyes when they locked onto mine for those brief seconds told another story. Frustration was beginning to settle into my gut, as the more I wondered if his urges matched my own, the more I wanted them to.

Ever the calm demeanor in him, remained.

I was determined to play it just as cool. Ignoring the aching I felt and my burning cheeks, I willed my face to lie on behalf of my soul and conform itself to presenting a facade of indifference.

Where was this yearning suddenly coming from? Why now? Why was this man affecting me this way? We've known each other forever, and friends for even longer. Sure we have engaged in friendly bantering and it was very much our thing to have these ongoing "wars" of intellectualism, but at no time was there anything more than that. At least I don't think so..

And now that has changed. Each time his eyes fell on mine, every time he held onto my gaze a little longer than he should have, the cravings increased. The hungrier I grew and the more palatable he became.

Oh, please dear Creator, it is not meant to be. He does not belong to me. Please make it stop.

His indifference to my plight, his complete oblivion in is actions fueled the aggression inside of me. Screaming inside, willing him to want me in return, despite knowing it is wrong. Why is this happening?

Flushed beyond control, I retreated to my office, the one place I knew I would be left alone. Praying a silent prayer to rid myself from wanting him so badly, I slumped into my chair. I concentrated on my breathing, listening to the automatic inhale and exhale routine replaying itself over and over again. Maybe if I just rationalize this out, I can bear it until the end of the day. It's Friday after all, and I'd have two days to decide how best to compose myself next week without needing to quit my job. That thought was a bit humorous, knowing how long it took me to climb the ladder to get here.

The knock on my door startled me back into reality. He didn't wait for me to respond, he simply

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