My nervous system conceded the argument

The conversation was so natural we both forgot we were nervous.
Writing love poems at midnight is not where you need to be, I told myself-
and then I did it anyway.
Your hair curled just above your brow,
stubborn in the way that meant I could brush it back a hundred times and it would always return
to the same spot.
The smell of your soap collided naturally with my chamomile shampoo-
perfect in an almost insulting way.
“Come to a haunted house with me,” I said.
“I want to see how you handle my girly side.”
You chuckled softly,
the smile reaching your eyes as you joked,
“What if I act girly too?”
My body insisted the calm I felt with you
was a lie but-
your hand brushed mine as we laughed the night away and my nervous system conceded the argument.