It's driving me crazy. Well. You're driving me crazy. In a good way, I assure you.

The party is loud and obnoxious, but I was obligated to go -- and looking forward to it. After all, you were probably going to be here too, and I wanted someone to hang out with. In a big family full of loud extroverts, you and I were the quiet ones, the shy ones -- the introverts who would rather hang out and read instead of shotgunning beers and gossiping.

It's been a while, though. We were super close friends when we were kids, growing up next to each other. I'm pretty sure you were the first girl I saw naked, but only by happenstance -- and certainly before it meant anything more than streaking around the back yard having a water fight.

My parents moved across town shortly thereafter, and we ended up at different schools ... but always reconnected for family events, seeking each other out, hiding away from the rest of the maniacs we're related to.

I've been attracted to you since I knew what that meant, but I've kept it purely platonic. I mean, we're cousins. But ... yeah. I'll admit I've fantasized about you a few times, thinking about you in that sun dress. Or that trip to the beach when you wore that simple black bikini. I won't get into it, but ... I've been thinking about you a lot. Your smile. Our closeness.

I see you across the room, giving uncle John a totally deadpan look as he waves his hands around, yelling about a fish he almost caught or something equally ridiculous.

I catch your eye, give you a shy smile, and roll my eyes at uncle John. I walk through the kitchen, and out to the empty patio, looking back to make sure you saw where I went.

The air is clear and cool out here, and the family ruckus diminished. I smile to myself, pull out my phone, and send you a text message.

"Come out to the patio. It's quiet out here."