He strums his guitar gently, off key lyrics floating from his lips, his hair the color of sand and his eyes little shards of broken beer bottle. I lay there, watching him, staring at the closet door, the lights off, and I wonder what I am getting myself into. I wonder where he will be in ten years. I wonder if I will be with him. It scares me to think of our permanence. Part of me loves him, part of me cringes a tiny bit to think that I just might be with him for awhile. I am 19 and stupid. My instinct is to run when things are progressing as such. But he is soothing and poses no threat. He's like the icy water I drink right after I burn my tongue on hot tea. I wonder what he'd say if he knew I compared him to water.