you're my distraction

Before I even heard his footsteps approach, I knew that he was going to come to me.  Not because he thought I wanted the attention, but because he was just that kind of guy.  He could see that I was upset and wanted to do something about it.  I tried to dry my tears as he sat down, but I knew that he could still tell that I had been crying.  "Hey," he said quietly, "Is something wrong?"  "I'm fine," I said, but my face told him otherwise.  "Are you sure?" He prodded, "You know that you can always talk to me."  That was his mistake.  I looked at him in the eye, then turned away.  "Not about this."  "Oh." He said. "I get it.  Do you want me to go get one of the girls?"  I shook my head. "It's not like that. I just can't tell you."  He looked a little hurt. "Really Gabby," he said, "I'm here for you."  "Fine," I finally agreed, "If you really want to know so badly I'll tell you." I paused. "I just don't feel like I'm doing my job well."  He gave a little chuckle and then smiled.  "Is that all?  Everyone feels like that at some point.  Don't worry about it. Just keep-"  "No," I interrupted, "That's not all.  I feel like I can't do my job because I'm distracted."  I took a deep breath, deciding how much I wanted to tell him.  "By someone."  He looked confused.  "Someone is distracting you?  How so?"  "You know," I said, thinking it was obvious, "I'm attracted to them and it keeps tearing my attention away from what I should be doing."  My next few words came tumbling out so fast that I couldn't stop myself.  "And I'm trying so hard to stop, but I can't.  And I'm usually so good at turning my feelings off and walking away, but for some reason I just can't this time.  And I'm sorry."  When I looked back up at him, I saw the strangest look on his face, and I knew it was finally dawning on him.  "Yes," I finally admitted, "You're my distraction."  There was a brief silence after I said it, one that most people would probably call "awkward."  And for a second there, I thought that he was going to tell me that I was his distraction too.  But when I looked into his eyes, I saw that it wasn't true.  Those two beautiful little marbles were full of sadness, distain, and worst of all: disappointment.  He sighed, and a single leftover tear trailed down my cheek.  "Gabby," he said, "I forgive you.  But you need to stop.  Now.  And I really expected more of you."  He got up from the table, ready to leave.  "I would have thought that you had much more self-control and maturity than this."  As he left me alone again, my eyes once more began to fill with tears.  And even though that was probably the worst thing he could have said, I knew that he was exactly right.