This is how it will happen:

He will approach her. He will have had too much to drink by accident.

She will notice this in the way he pronounces his ‘s’s when he talks. She will assume he doesn’t mean a word he’s saying.

She will feel sad the only time he has spoken to her, he has been drunk. She will think this means he doesn’t notice her when he’s sober. This will make her want to go home.

He will join her on the front steps. He will steal glances of her from the corner of his eyes. She will smile politely.

He will scoot a little closer to her, she will pretend not to notice – then slightly lean away.

He will say something stupid about the weather lately. He will tap his feet to a rhythm playing in his veins – her.

He will wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans, and pray she doesn’t see.

She will feel uncomfortable. She will hate how he is filled with liquid courage. She will imagine him being sick later, and forgetting this ever happened.

He will make a move to kiss her. She will turn away.

She will sigh. He will frown.

He will laugh it off. She will hug herself a little tighter.

He will get up awkwardly and offer to walk her home. She will shake her head and not look him in the eye.

It will all be a series of misunderstandings. It will be over before it has even begun.